#but literally this guy is covered from head to toe and he is SERVING

[insomaniacat]

i think i NEED more characters covered up from head to toe in hoyoverse games because let me tell you I've never been this FERAL over any hoyoverse character until now

[popamolly]

“INTERNAL REDEMPTION” LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. (y/n) finds herself in Lucifer’s grasp, knowing her job is to get close to him in order to figure out his future plans for hell and to ultimately sabotage him by telling the V’s. Though their first encounter didn’t exactly go as planned.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. this story has gotten so much love in such a short amount of time! thank you all!

“Change of plans, dollface. Your new owner wants you brought to someone else’s place, apparently you’re his gift.” The shark face man tossed you into a back of a van with a snarl, “How generous of him.”

“Screw you.” You bit back as you pushed yourself up, giving the guy a glare.

“Ouch!” The guy playfully steps back with a roaring laugh, “The dove can bite.” You glared at the man as he slams the car doors, covering you in complete darkness. ‘This sucked’ you thought to yourself, you got caught up in something that could make or break Hell itself when you just wanted to live a simple life, or at least the most normal idea of simple you can get. You wanted nothing more than to just dance to your hearts content while keeping under the radar but because of your damned loyalty to Valentino you had no other choice. Cruel as the man can be, you owed him more than just your afterlife.

Before you knew it, you were in a bedchamber after being scrubbed down from head to toe and put in a quite revealing garment. You did not even have time to admire the walls that would serve as your cage for the time being. The intricate architectural designs had you in awe, it was clear you were far away from the slums of Hell being in such of place of grandeur. Chandelier's adorned the high ceilings, oil paintings decorated the walls, and the smell of it all caught you off guard- it was a clean scent, something that only the rich and those bathed in luxury could afford to have.

"You will wait here, until his highness is ready for you." A elderly maid took your clothes that was neatly folded beside you as you stood in the center of the room feeling oh so out of place.

"Asmodeus is still away?" You asked, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"As-? Oh, no dear, you are in the King's bedchambers." The maid revealed, catching you up to speed on your current situation, "You are a gift for Lucifer."

Your heart sank then. Of course this is what you wanted, this was plan a, but how could have you caught his attention so soon? Your mission was now becoming more real and you realized that you couldn't fail. You couldn't disappoint Valentino because your afterlife quite literally depended on it. But now that you were actually in the King's bedchamber what should you expect? Someone demanding? Someone who easily towers over you? Ruthless in bed? You knew to keep your expectations low if the rumors about the King were even remotely true.

For awhile you sat on his large bed. Swallowing into your own thoughts as you waited patiently for Lucifer to arrive. Your nerves only grew and with that your curiosity as well.

Though Lucifer himself was a ball of nerves just like you. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with nervousness at the thought of a woman in his chamber waiting for him. This was all so screwed, he didn't even want to be at Asmodeus' party nor did he want a prostitute in his room, that he didn't have time to clean due to such short notice. ‘Were you laughing at him and the mountains of rubber ducks? How fucking embarrassing!’ As much as the thought of a night of passion was intriguing, this is not how he wanted it to go. He could be everything people wanted him to be but he wouldn't stoop that low to sleep with someone who was under obligation.

Lucifer returned home to his palace with one thing in mind, and that was to free you from his ownership.

The sound of the rattling doorknob had you shaken from your thoughts, making you hurriedly get onto the center of the bed to make yourself more presentable. Tucking your legs under you, you let a strap of your gown fall from your shoulders as you puff your chest out to reveal your cleavage. You took a deep breath, ready to put on your facade to appear more alluring as you watched the door slowly open revealing the evil, dark, merciless- short king?

You blink once. Then you blink twice.

“I’m sorry,” You scramble to your feet, trying your best to cover yourself with your arms, was this some joke the maids thought would be funny? Putting you in the wrong room? “I must have the wrong room.”

“No, actually this is my room, ha ha.” Lucifer tapped his cane against the ground as he walked further into his bedchamber, kicking a rubber duck to the side, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long, my dear.”

This wasn’t a prank.

“Oh! Your highness,” you curtsy with a bow of your head to show respect, “Forgive me.”

“All is forgiven,” Lucifer tugged on his shirt collar, suddenly feeling smothering in the fabric. He was a bit nervous now that he was in your vacinity. You were absolutely breathtaking up close, “I hope your ride here was smooth.

‘Hardly that’. “It was, my king.”

“Good, Good…uh.” How was he going to go about this? “Well this is awkward, ahaha. I actually was going to release you of your duty to me. Your uh…services, aren’t needed here. This was all just a simple mishap.”

You tilt your head in confusion. He was letting you go? So easily? What of those rumors you heard before, of the man who took and ravaged without mercy? And besides all that, you had a mission to do, you couldn’t fail so easily and so soon. The day wasn’t even over, “Do I not please you, your highness?”

“What?! No, no, no! You are…quite the lovely creature with an,” Lucifer gulped, his eyes raking over your figure with flushed cheeks, “an amazing body but I just—” ‘Spit it out, you idiot!’ He thought to himself. “I-I’m married, you see.”

“Ah,” You look to the floor then, trying to jumble up the words you wish to speak before you were tossed out. How could you convince him otherwise? “I see..”

“Good!” Lucifer clasps his hands together, trying to ignore the fact that he absolutely, positively— what do the young kids say now a days? Fumbled. He fumbled hard on such a pretty woman as yourself. But for good reason. He was married and as lonely as his life may be, he still held out hope for Lilith. He was faithful to her even after all these years…or at least that’s what he wanted to believe, “I will have the maids see you out and pay you handsomely for any inconvenience.”

“No!” You always did want to try acting sometime when you were alive, “Please my boss, would not accept me back. You’re all I have your majesty.” You held onto Lucifer’s arm gently, forcing your eyes to become glossy with tears, “I have no where else to go.”

“Well, that..” Lucifer felt goosebumps arise at the feeling of your fingertips on him, “that…is quite a pickle.”

“If you don’t accept me as your mistress then let me join your staff,” You plead with fake desperation, a desperation so good that even Lucifer was starting to pity you, “I can cook, clean…anything else really just please don’t kick me out.”

Lucifer bit the inside of cheek, trying hard to remain true to his word on releasing you from his leash but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for you, and all it took was you batting your eyelashes at him with a sad look that had him folding instantly. A spark ignited within him, something that he wouldn’t dare even acknowledge.

“I supposed I do have to replace one of my maids.” The King of Hell, gave in without much of a fight. Even if he knew that this was a bad idea, “Fine, fine, fine! You can stay but know that you are allowed to leave whenever you wish, I will not keep you against your will.”

You couldn’t help that your heart all but fluttered as his words. His voice radiated a warmth that you haven’t felt in such a long time. It was surprising and almost distracted you. Almost.

“Thank you, Thank you, your highness,” You bow your head again before raising it to meet his gaze. For a split second the both of you got lost in each other’s eyes at a loss for words until Lucifer finally broke the silence by clearing his throat, turning his back to you with a new found coldness.

“The other maids will take care of you and tell you everything you need to know.” Lucifer made his voice go slightly deeper, “You are excused.”

You nod before leaving the room, silently thankful that your desperate act worked. Which only confirmed that the King of Hell did have a soft spot, a simple crack in that stone wall of his that you fully intended on using to your advantage.

“The King does not eat breakfast but loves brunch, you are to serve him at eleven twenty-five sharp, not a minute early not a minute less—!” The elderly maid you met the day before was walking ahead of you in such speed you were unsure how her little lamb legs could even move so fast. You struggled a bit to keep up, trying to memorize everything she was saying, “—All the windows in the palace needs to be dusted before noon, are you listening to me child?!”

“Ah, yes!” You bumped into her as she abruptly stops, letting an apology fall from your lips before looking up at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows you were expected to clean, “How can you possibly clean all the windows in the palace before noon? How many even are there?”

“Six hundred and sixty-six.” Lysandra states matter of factly, “Now keep up, we mustn’t dawdle.”

The head maid leads you into a the grand foyer, her heels clicking and clacking against the elegant marble floor as she leads you to the center, a large crystal chandelier hanging above the both of you that seemed to sparkle like diamonds under the light. Lysandra points to the bucket filled with soapy water and the big yellow sponge beside it.

“This whole foyer needs to be shining before eleven so you have time to serve the king,” Lysandra raises an eyebrow at you, “Understood?”

You glance around the room, trying your best to understand how in the fuck you were going to clean this whole foyer in under an hour. But did you really have time to complain? At least while you scrubbed you can figure out how you were going to get close to the King, “Got it.”

Lysandra smiles at you, “Good. You remember where the kitchen is? Come there in about an hour to bring the king his lunch.”

“Got it.” You repeat yourself, which makes Lysandra nod in approval before leaving you to your work. You start to get to scrubbing until the floor was so spotless that you could see your reflection through it. Before you knew it was thirty minutes pass ten, making it almost time for you to be done and believe it or not you did better than you thought you would.

Though your mini accomplishment wasn’t celebrated for long because not even a moment later the sound of footsteps echoed through the foyer, and then a loud thud!

“Who in the unholy hell made this floor slippery!” Lucifer groans, holding onto his lower back with a deep frown, “And without a wet sign?!”

You gasped, “Your majesty,” Rushing over you help him, only to be nudged away the moment he got up on his own two feet, “I am so sorry!”

It was already your second day and he had to bump into you again. What are the odds in a place as big as his palace that he ran into you. ‘Fuck, this was going to be hard wasn’t it?’ Lucifer nearly groaned at his own thoughts, ‘Give it another day or two and she’ll just blend in with the other maids.’

“What a unique way to take out the big boss,” Lucifer joked, “Through lower back pain and a dislocated spine.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, stopping short when you realized what you were doing. It wasn’t your fault that the merciless Lucifer was funny— and quite charming.

“Please forgive me, I think I got a bit carried away with the polishing..”

“You think?” Lucifer chuckles, The both of you sharing a moment of laughter, “The foyer does look spotless now thanks to you so I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. It hasn’t looked this presentable in years.”

You wanted to pat yourself on the back. Turns out cleaning could be a bit therapeutic for you. Lucifer couldn’t help but stare at your face, your small smile and honey sweet laugh seemed to take his breath away.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

You stood a bit straighter as Lucifer cleared his throat, “Now if you excuse me.” And with those words he was off into the dining hall. Which reminded you of your next task— which was to help dust the windows. You had all but completely two before you checked your watch and your heart nearly sank at the time. Rushing to the kitchen, you hurried down some corridor steps and make your way down another hall until you heard the bustling movement and hurried voices.

“You’re late!” Lysandra frowns as she hurriedly puts a tray of food in your hands, “You need to go serve the king! Who knows how long he has been waiting? Now off you go!”

With a gentle, yet a bit forceful shove, your pushed toward a hidden stairway that led you right into a hallway near the King's bedchamber. You sighed before knocking on the large door and entering once you heard a simple, "Come in."

You entered the bedroom, letting the door close behind you as you made you way toward Lucifer. The King was sitting on a chair at his desk, tinkering away at yet another rubber duck to add to his growing collection. You wanted to know where this obsession with ducks came from and why it seemed so out of character for the King of Hell to have. The longer you stayed here, the longer you realized that everything you thought you knew was a lie.

"Your highness," You did a quick bow before setting his tray of food beside him, "Your brunch.."

"Ah! Thank you!" Lucifer frowned slightly, not expecting that it would be you to deliver his food this morning. It was as if you were at every corner, constantly reminding him of his physical attraction to you, "That is all, you can go."

"Um..actually! I thought you would entertain my company for awhile sir," You smile at Lucifer, mentally noting that there was an unspoken sexual attraction but you would have to tear his walls down first to even act upon it. You figured that you would have to get him to trust you first, "I've been curious about your...rubber ducks ever since I got here."

‘Why were you being so persistent? I mean I like it but what exactly was your angle here?’ Lucifer squints his eyes in suspicion at you, looking over your face to find any hint of deceit but only found your warm smile instead, "Really?"

You nod with excitement, pulling up a stool to sit beside him. Now that you were slightly lower due to the short stool, you looked up into his eyes with a hidden determination and a new found curiosity that you couldn't help. The King of Hell was a mystery and whether it was your obligation to Valentino or your want to truly look through the cracks of Lucifer's protective barrier himself, you found yourself intrigued by him.

"Well surely, there is a story behind it." You straighten out your maid attire before putting your hands into your lap, "Will you tell me?"

Lucifer clears his throat, a bit taken aback at the fact that someone seemed so interested in his duck obsession. He hasn't had someone even remotely curious since- well since his daughter Charlie. What was this feeling inside his chest? Why did he want you to continue to look at him in the way you are now?

"I suppose I can spare a moment...or two."

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.

@pyromaniac-on-caffeine @froggybich @punching-pentagrams @elleofdragons @futureittomainn @cryptidghostgirl @yelinmarceline

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

[ficthots]

Uncharted Territory II

A/N: Surprise! You guys asked for it so here it is. This is literally the fastest turnaround I've ever had on a piece. I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think! (Also, this is the smile/smirk I'm talking about...you'll know what I mean as you read further)

Part I

Warnings: SMUT. DNI if you are under 18. 18+ content only

Word Count: 7.8k+

Rules are rules. They serve a purpose to bring order to a world filled to the brim with chaos. Even when rules aren’t explicitly laid out, there are some loose ones that still bring some sense of structure. That’s why they’re there. 

Which is also why they are so incredibly fun to break. 

Being a rule breaker wasn’t your thing, still isn’t if you’re being totally honest. Yet, when you get to do it with him it’s an adrenaline rush. A high that nothing can be compared to that even the strongest illicit materials couldn’t match. A thrill that starts at the very top of your head and spreads down to the tips of your toes. 

It happens whenever his hands land on you. Especially in times when they shouldn’t be. For example, last night at the band dinner. You were seated directly next to your boss, his brothers and their own assistants in other seats, some other tour members there as well. It started simple, his fingertips lightly brushing the smooth skin on the back of your hand. 

Nothing that would’ve been noticed. 

Playing it cool as his touch grew deeper than the featherlight one he had been teasing you with. Moving from your hand to your bare knee. Opting for a dress this evening proved to be a good choice. Or was it? 

His hand splayed across the skin, the table cloth covering any and all movements from the others. Your breathing was fluctuating despite your best efforts to keep it steady and even. When his hand continued its trek up wards, landing extremely high on the inside of your thigh, you coughed into your drink.

Bob’s hand landing harshly on your back as you did. “Don’t go choking on me now, kiddo,” you shot him a tight lipped smile, seeing the amusement dancing in the eyes of Josh. He never did remove his hand that night. 

When you got back to the hotel room, it was in the dead of night when you heard your door open. You were already up and waiting for him. He wasted little time as he undressed on his way over to you, giggles mixing in with his words. “I thought you were gonna squeal at dinner, birdie girl. You did good, I was pleasantly surprised.”

Humming into his mouth, plush lips hastily meeting yours, you could feel the vibrations of his laughter. “You need to give me more credit then that, Mr. Kiszka,” as those words left your mouth, one of his hands that cradled the back of your neck moved upward, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging your head back with a gasp.

“Prove it to me.”

And that was just one of the incidents. 

These were a regular occurrence now between you two. Anytime Josh could be physical with you, in what way it didn’t seem to matter, he would. A flat palm against your lower back as you walked through a crowd together. Showing him something on your phone, he would stand as close to you as he could, all limbs rubbing against each others. Never staying in his hotel room anymore, opting for yours and your bed any chance he could.

It was a habit to get two keys for your own room now. One for you and one for him. He would wait until he was certain everyone had been confined to their own rooms for the evening, then you would hear the beep of the door lock signaling his arrival, seconds later you would be entangled with him for the rest of the evening. An alarm would go off at five in the morning, he would slink back to his room, reappear just a few hours later like he had been there the entire time.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Work carried on the same. Taking your job and responsibilities extremely seriously, Josh not interfering with that, mostly, and then sprinkling in fun when you could. Did an odd feeling worm its way into your gut every once in a while as you would observe him from across the room? 

That is your boss! What the hell are you doing? This isn’t going to end well. You know it won’t. Stop it now before it gets worse!

Not exactly. It didn’t matter anyways because those thoughts were always quelled almost as quickly as they came. All in part to how incredibly sweet he was. Showing you affection in subtle, and not so subtle, ways. 

Last week as you checked in to a hotel, the receptionist informed you that there was already a delivery waiting for you. A large bouquet of flowers sat on the back desk and when she handed them to you, you could feel the rise in heat creeping onto your cheeks and neck. A chorus of oh’s and ah’s flowed from the group, Sam pestering you about who sent them.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I feel best when I’m in bed with you. And some other sweet crap, too. -J

Biting back laughter at the absurd note, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, your gaze fell to him standing at the back of the group. The apples of his cheeks turning a light pink, eyes darting down to his dirty shoes, unable to hold the contact. 

“Don’t worry about it nosey!” Sam grumbled as you pulled the card closer to your chest, not letting him see whatever the message read. It held a smile on your face the remainder of the day. When you heard your door unlock that night, instead of waiting on the bed for him, you stood by the desk where the flower arrangement sat. 

Grabbing a flower from the bunch and playing with it in your fingers, you fought off a grin, the other hand holding the card. “Roses are red, violets are blue, I feel best when I’m in bed with you,” eyes bouncing up to see his cocky smirk decorating his lips, you continued, “and some other sweet crap, too. J.”

Sighing, over dramatically and falling to the bed with a bounce, clutching the two items to your torso, you giggled. “You really know how to treat a lady, Mr. Kiszka.” He collapsed next to you, resting his head on his palm, peering down at you. “Only the best for my birdie.”

As his lips began an attack on your neck, the flower and card fell from your hands, going to tangle into his locks. Eyes slipping shut as the heavenly feeling of his wandering hands began, you had never felt so content. 

Your boss. This is your boss. Now he’s sending presents? You’re crossing a line. 

Thoughts diminishing as his hands slipped under your t-shirt, feeling the bare warm skin greeting him underneath, already reacting with excitement at his welcome. 

His fingers pinched your perked nipples, continuing further up and removing the shirt from your frame. Lips attaching to your breast, your back arched into him. A gasp echoed out into the quiet room. Hardly able to keep your eyes open as he pressed his hardening cock against your core, you moaned. 

“Josh, please.” His smirk met you, teeth pulling at your lip as he teased you. “Please what, baby? Use your words.” You didn’t even care how needy you sounded, just wanting him. “You, anything, please.”

His lips landed softly between your brows on the wrinkled skin there. “I’m going to take care of you, sweet girl. Don’t worry.” And he did. Entirely abandoning his own care for the first half of the evening, you were on the verge of black out as he brought you to finish after finish.

By the time he was ready to go with you, you were a limp mess. Only a form of pleases falling from you, drunk on the feelings holding firm. The sheets a soaked through mess, bodies sticking together as he held you, your slick coating both of your bodies from your dripping core. 

You weren’t sure you were going to be able to walk the next day, but you didn’t care. You would let him do anything to you as long as it was Josh doing it. Not a care in the world as long as you were with him.

Things continued to grow further along those lines, crossing over from a casual fling to a romantic entanglement. Not just from his side. 

You were doing a check of the venue before the show that evening, going through the checklist you had memorized long ago when you heard one of the stagehands whispering to a coworker, peaking your interest. 

“Yeah dude, he cut it all. It’s like a fauxhawk mohawk thing.” Immediately listening to attempt to figure out who they were talking about, your mind instantly went to your boss. Yet, this could be a Danny move. He is going through a total rebranding right now. Odd move for him though. 

“Sides totally shaved, permed of course.” Permed. Josh. He cut his hair? When the hell did he do that? Was it on his schedule? Son of a bitch went rogue. That means he skipped something this afternoon because it was a jammed day.

Pulling out the schedule for the day, your eyes skimmed all the tasks he needed to complete, trying to figure out what he could have missed. Irritation starting to seep into you, it came to a halt when you heard the man's next words. “He looks like a moron. It’s like a weird mullet thing. Looks terrible,” turning and facing the guy, you walked over to him, a sickly sweet smile adorning your face. 

“Hi! I don’t believe we’ve met,” sticking your hand out for a shake, the guy hissed at the firm grip you offered, eyes wide in confusion. “I’m Mr. Josh Kiszka’s assistant. I would just like to offer a gentle reminder to watch your words and attitudes whilst at work. You never know who’s listening and speaking ill of your boss,” placing a heavy emphasis on the word, you watched as he thickly swallowed, “is not a wise choice. Now, I know these cases do not belong in this area. If you could get them to their correct location I would greatly appreciate it.”

They didn’t hesitate, quickly turning and grabbing the ones you pointed to, loading them on a cart and began pushing it. Offering a small apology as they hustled away from you. When a laugh behind you startled you, turning to see the signature hat, you smiled at him.

“Standing up for Josh. Very nice,” your eyes slightly narrowed, his voice dripping with an insinuation. “Of course, Mr. Kiszka. Given he is my boss and theirs I would do it for any of you in a heartbeat.” His eyes rolled at your words, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

Walking past you, his hand patted your shoulder, leaning ever so lightly towards you to lower his voice. “You keep telling yourself that.” Before you could speak again, his new permed due came from around the corner.

A large smile on his face, trying to nonchalantly walk towards you as you giggled at his moves. “Looking great, sir.” Leaning against a wall, his eyebrows shot up, looking around to see if you were talking to him. His finger pointed at himself as he spoke. 

“Oh, me? Thank you, thank you. Groupies are gonna go crazy for it,” your lips pushed into your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter, clipboard resting in front of you. “Of course, sir.” 

He quickly looked around, moving closer to you, you meeting him halfway. His hands landed on your hips, tugging you closer to him, chin tilted down as a lazy smile grew on his face. 

Your favorite smile. The one he knew drove you crazy. Where it was so effortless and showcased his features beautifully. It made your knees weak. Somehow looking even better with the new hair.

Nudging his nose into your cheek, his lips crested on the shell of your ear sending a chill down your spine. “What about my favorite groupie? Digging me still?” 

You could hardly get a response out, overwhelmed by the all encompassing energy of Josh. His cologne filling your senses, his cocky attitude, that stupid grin on his perfect lips, hands resting so firmly on your hips. You wanted to devour him.

Your own arms wrapped around his middle, leaning back to get a better view. There was no chance of letting him off that easily. As easy as he knew you felt right now. “It’ll take some time to get used to, Mr. Kiszka.” 

He hummed, nodding at your words. Mouth going back towards your side, voice dropping as he spoke. “Say my name, birdie.” The assertive tone he spoke in had you melting into a pool at his feet. Instantly becoming putty for him to meld with his own hands.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Kiszka.” His smirk grew, tongue caressing his teeth as he eyed you. “That's how we’re playing this?” You only blinked at him, offering nothing else in return.

His hands retreated from you despite only wanting to remain in his embrace for the rest of time, your body erupting in goosebumps at his next statement. 

“Be in my dressing room in five minutes.” 

When you got to the door, Josh was waiting on the other side for you. Shutting it behind you with one last look around to make sure the coast was clear, his palm landed directly next to your head, caging you in. 

Pushing your hair to the side, crotch pressing into your ass, you felt his breath fan across the back of your neck. “Good girl. Doing exactly as I say,” your eyes shut, swallowing a shaky breath. “Of course, Mr. Kiszka.” His hand wrapped around your locks, tugging your head back.

The sharp tip of his nose traced your pulse point, running up and down your exposed neck. “Say my name.” Not giving in, his lips pursed on the warm skin. Nipping at the flesh, eliciting a hiss from you, he didn’t relent on his grip.

With you still pressed soundly against the door, you heard his zipper on his jumpsuit coming undone. “Pull down your pants. Now.” Confusion rippled through you at the order, but you did as he said. “No, underwear stays up.” Your hands faltered, hearing the husky nature of his voice, but putting your panties back in place. 

“You want to play the quiet game with me? That’s fine, mama,” your breathing grew shallower as you felt the bare skin of his cock rub against the inside of your thigh, precum painting you from his weeping tip, “but I’m going to fuck you right here. And you need to be utterly silent. Not a peep. Otherwise everyone out there will hear you and know what’s happening in here.”

Your eyes went wide as you felt the crotch of your panties move to the side, rubbing harshly against your clit. The tip of him broke your entrance, a moan tumbling from you. He removed himself as quickly as he had gone in. A rough tug of your hair brought you back.

“What did I say? Not. A. Peep.” At the end of his sentence, he fully seated himself in your cunt. Nearly collapsing onto the door, one arm wrapped around your waist, effectively holding you up. Biting down on your tongue to not let a singular noise out, you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Josh wasted no time, effectively pounding into you, your legs slowly parting further and further with each thrust. His own feet kicked yours back into place, struggling to speak through his own panting breath. “Keep your feet still. Don’t let them move, understand?” You nodded, a whimper falling from you moments later.

His large hand slapped over your mouth, wide eyes staring into your own heavy lidded ones. “Can’t keep quiet, birdie girl? That’s fine. Say my name then.” Refusing to give in, your forehead rested on the cool thin door. Hand splayed on it to steady yourself with the punishing pace, you could feel your orgasm approaching. 

With a few flutters of your walls, Josh spoke again, sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh, you’re close, mama. I can-I can feel it, sweet girl. C’mon, finish for me. You’ve been so good, do it.” With his words of encouragement, you fell over the edge.

Body going rigid and weak, his hand left your mouth the minute it came to you. Tiny whimpers and one small word left your lips. As he heard his name moaned out, it pushed him to his own climax. The small ego boost of hearing his name come from you as you came on him was sending him to another plane of existence. 

When he pulled out from you, he fixed your underwear, patting the crotch that was catching your mixed releases. “Hold onto that for me, ‘kay? I’ll check on it later tonight,” he spun you around as he spoke, connecting you both in a gentle kiss.

“Really, what do you think?” As he readjusted his suit, checking himself in the mirror, he watched your reflection, seeing your blissed out face meeting him with a smile. “It looks great, Josh. I love it and they’re all going to love it too. Promise.” 

He nodded, eyes only able to look at the smooth tabletop of the dressing table, you kissed his velvet clad shoulder, telling him you still had some duties to do before the show. He stopped you before you could slip out, pretending to fix your hair while he asked you the most important question he ever had. 

“So-um. I was wondering if, I don’t know, maybe you might want to stay for the show. Just tonight, you know? I know you typically go sleep during the show, but I don’t know, I was thinking maybe just for tonight-” you cut him off, hands cradling his jaw as you kissed him, shutting up his nervous chatter.

Agreeing to stay for the show was everything he had been hoping for and then some. It was the best news of his life. 

That was one of the best shows of the tour. Josh’s confidence boost only perfected his stage presence even more. It was also the first show you had stayed to watch despite how truly exhausted you were. Not only from the extracurricular activities that took up your afternoon, but your work responsibilities, too.

He knew you were watching that night. It was why he went above and beyond. To truly show what he did and why he was so damn good at it. Almost needing to prove himself to you. 

It was worth it.

Nearly the next two weeks were going to be a break. A break from life on the road, your job, all of it. Your heart slightly ached at the thought of being away from Josh for two weeks. 

The longest you two were going to be apart for the first time in nearly a year. It was going to be odd. Not having him taking up every waking moment of your day. 

That’s good. Space is exactly what you need from him. It’ll put things in perspective for you. About how out of control this situation has gotten. 

It didn’t last long. In fact, it didn’t happen at all. The night you got home, Josh offered to drive you back to your apartment. Hastily agreeing after not being able to sleep with him for three nights, Josh had you pressed against the elevator walls.

His mouth fighting for dominance with yours. Your hands tangled in his hair. His knee shoved between your legs. Breath mingling in short exasperated spurts. 

Hardly separating the entire way to your door, your hands trembled as you tried to unlock it. When you opened the door, Josh’s hands were on your hips, leading you into the house, but immediately dropped when the yells rang out into the air.

“Welcome home, birdie!” You screamed, jumping back into Josh as his hands stilled you, his own yell echoing through the apartment. Hand over your heart, you were trying to catch your breath as your mom and siblings laughter wracked their bodies.

Hunching over, you started laughing with them. “Jesus. What the hell, mom?” Crossing the room, she embraced you in a monstrous hug. Feeling the comfort of your moms hug nearly brought tears to your eyes as she rocked you back and forth, hand smoothing your hair. 

Her laughter mixed with her words as she spoke. “Wanted to surprise you! The kids were dying to see you,” you pulled back, feeling them grab you into another hug. 

Your mom crossed the space and beamed at Josh. “You must be Mr. Kiszka! It’s such a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for driving her home, I know she left her car here.” Josh’s bright red face let on to how excited and slightly uncomfortable he felt at that moment.

Eyes falling to you and seeing your easy smile signaled he was okay to continue talking with her as you spoke with your brother and sister. “Of course. I wanted to make sure she got home okay. I should really be going though,” your head snapped in his direction, nodding in agreement with him.

“Thank you again for the ride. If you need anything,” your mom waved you off, pulling Josh towards your couch. “Nonsense. We got a bunch of food and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

Your eyes went wide, trying to say otherwise, but she hushed you. “Birdie! Be polite to your boss. He was kind enough to drive you home. The least you can do is invite him to stay for dinner. Jesus, where are your manners?” 

There it was. That feeling again. 

Reality is creeping in. Look at how your mom and siblings are talking with him. You’re sleeping with him. What would your mom say about that? He’s your boss for crying out loud. Look at what’s happening right now. 

Remaining silent for a majority of the night as he told story after story to entertain everyone, clearly enjoying getting in with you like this. All you could think about was how inappropriate this was. How well he was getting along with your mom and brother and sister. This wasn’t okay.

It’s gone too far.

When Josh left that night, you didn’t see him for the remainder of the break. You lied and said you flew back to California to spend time with them. He didn’t second guess it. Hardly even having communication with him was good. Hard? Sure, but what you needed to take in the reality of what was happening. 

Instead, you moped around your house after your mom had left to go back home two days later. The remainder of the break was spent wallowing alone. Trying to figure out where the line had been crossed. Why you didn’t catch it sooner. How you could be so careless and stupid.

Your mother almost caught you. With your boss. That was a new low for you. As the time flew by on the break, you found yourself filled with another sense of dread with having to face him. Having to do what you needed to. 

Cutting this off. Ending it before it turned out poorly for one, or worse, both of you. Choosing to remain distant once back on the road had Josh spinning. You had left for break on good terms. What the hell happened? Did he say something to your mom that offended her or you? 

Constantly wracking his brain whenever he tried to make a move towards you and you would shut it down. You were hardly even speaking to him anymore. If it wasn’t to do with work matters, you were far away. It was driving him mad. 

Finally cornering you one night after a show, he shut the door to his dressing room as you checked on his vitamins to ensure they were there for him for the post show check. When the door clicked behind you, a small sigh fell from your lips. 

Dread. 

“What’s going on with you? Did I do something to upset you?” He was whispering, speaking low so no one could hear from the other side of the door. Facing him, you shook your head, exhaustion grabbing hold of your body. “No.” 

His brow furrowed, moving closer to you. When his hand reached out to grab your own, you moved back out of his reach. Head cocking to the side, eyes wild with confusion, he scoffed. “That right there! That’s what I’m talking about. Are you alright? What did I do?” 

His tone was picking up, speaking faster the more frustrated he became. Still speaking quietly, but the bite in his words still present had you growing flustered. Arms crossing over your chest, tongue poking into the side of your cheek, you were battling in yourself. 

Do it. Draw the line. Create the boundary. Check his limits. Make him understand what this is.

Eyes slipping shut, shaking your head, you looked back at him. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so frustrated. All this was, was sleeping together. If you need it that bad, then go get it somewhere else. There’s a whole army of girls out there that will fall to their knees for you in a heartbeat.”

That got him. His mouth was agape, eyes wide in shock, unable to move. Still clad in his stage garb, rhinestones adorned on his flush cheeks, bare feet rooted to the ground, he was a spectacle to witness. It made it all the harder. 

“I need to get changed.” It was at a normal volume, eyes peeled away from yours, unable to look at you. Slipping past him, your shoulder brushed his chest as you opened the door. The heat that emanated from him encompassed you from just the miniscule contact. When you closed it behind you a shaky breath fell from your lips, looking at your checklist to see what you needed to do next. 

The tremble in your hands growing worse by the minute. 

You were in this town for a couple of days, the next being an off day. Josh shrugged off the night before. He thought maybe you were just having an off couple of days. It was bound to happen. Everyone had their share of bad moods after being on the road for so long. He figured that you were just going through yours. 

It was the next afternoon when you were asked by the group if you would accompany them on an evening out. Bar hopping through the vibrant downtown nightlife. His eyes were hopeful, peering at you, basically begging you. 

You declined. 

Instead opting to spend the night alone taking yourself out to dinner, calling your mom, and taking a brisk stroll. Should you have been out by yourself that late? No, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

Depressing. That was the only way to describe the missing enigma that was Josh. Having crossed the threshold that you did with him, then going to plainly ignoring him. Rough. As you continued wandering around the more it slapped you in the face. 

Was he your boss? Yes. Honestly, did it matter? Your work was still the same, productivity still incredibly high. You meshed so well together. You knew the man inside and out. The second he started slipping into your world, you freaked out, not having had that happen before. It was different. Something you needed to get used to. Could you get used to Josh in your bubble? Yes, you could. Then what was the problem? 

The fear of rejection? Of him growing tired of you once the tour was over? That wasn’t Josh and you knew it. It was playing a side of life you hadn’t before. Of being a little dangerous. Doing something you weren’t technically supposed to. 

But it was Josh.

Speed walking back to the hotel, you knew you needed to fix this. The chilly air nipped at your cheeks as you hurried back to the building. You wanted to talk to him, explain what the issue was. How you weren’t afraid anymore. If Josh was there with you, it would be fine. 

 Hitting the floor button multiple times, trying to speed up the elevator to get to the correct floor, you could feel your smile growing. This was right. It was Josh. This is what you need to do right now. Where you should be.

As the doors opened to the floor, you rooted to your spot as he filled your vision. He was facing you, eyes closed as the girl that was attached to him fumbled with the hotel room door. The ding of the elevator had gotten his attention, when he saw you standing there taking in his actions, he wanted to die.

Never having seen that expression on your face before, it broke him. He never wanted to see that again. The total anguish that morphed your features into one of pain. That he was the cause of. 

The doors shut, you not having left the elevator, you rode it back down to the lobby. Danny and Sam stood at the exit, confused as to where you were going this late, questions filling the air around you. “Out,” was your only response to them.

Danny quickly called out after you as you continued walking towards the front entrance. “I don’t think that’s a good idea! It’s really late. If you want to go out, I’ll go with you, but I cannot in good conscience let you go out alone.” You stopped in your tracks, jaw setting as you played your options in your mind.

Turning on your heel, you plastered the best faux smile you could onto your face. “No, you’re right. It’s too late. I’ll just head up and hang out in the room.” His smile grew, taking it as a victory as you walked back to the elevator with him, Sam still watching you two as you reapproached him.

His scrutinizing gaze held your body as you walked past him into the elevator. “You sure you’re alright? Acting a little squirrely,” you shrugged, trying to play off what had just happened. “Totally fine. Just having a hard time trying to sleep so I was going on a walk to tire myself out.” 

The elevator doors opening to your floor was a haven. The two still needing to ride up a couple more floors, you bid them goodnight, waving over your shoulder as they continued their trek upwards. Rushing to your own door, flying by his, you got it open as you heard another one creek into the hallway.

With the door closed, your forehead rested against the cool wood. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to tamp down the horrible feeling worming its way into you. Jumping with a small yelp, there was a thumping on the other side of the door.

Peering out the peephole, he stood on the other side. Not looking at the door, but instead eyes downcast, hands on his hips as he listened for movement. “Birdie. I know you’re in there. I saw you run down the hall.” 

Backing away from the door, you didn’t want to deal with this. Not tonight. Not right now. Emotions too high. Feelings too much. You heard his loud sigh and the sound of something running along the door. 

“Okay, well I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk. Not going anywhere.” His grunt as he firmly planted his ass on the carpeted ground echoed out into the hall. What the hell did he think he was doing? He looks like a fucking crazy person sitting out there like that. Fine, he wants to do this, then we’ll do this.

Storming over to the door and throwing it open, his expectant eyes looked up at you where the door once rested. Once they connected with your fiery ones, he knew it was about to happen. Standing and entering your room, following after you, the door shut letting you both know you could start. 

“You’re mad.” He finally started after you refused to break the silence. Scoffing at him and rolling your eyes, your arms crossed soundly over your chest. “Obviously.” He shrugged, tongue darting out and laying flat on his bottom lip, thumb brushing over the skin. “You have no right to be upset.”

You could’ve sworn at that exact moment your eyes could have bugged out of your head and onto the floor below. “Excuse me?” His hands went up in the air before landing on his head, exasperated with the entire events of the last few days.

“Birdie, you wanted this! You wouldn’t talk to me, look at me, interact with me, nothing. I ask you what’s wrong wanting to fix this and you tell me that I need to go sleep with other girls because that’s what this is. That all you and I have is sex.” Shaking your head, you could feel tears welling in your eyes.

That was exactly what you had said, but it wasn’t what you meant. Not in the slightest. Sniffling into the room you cleared your throat before speaking. “I know,” his face went into his hands, falling away and eyeing you like you were absolutely crazy.

“Then I have no idea what the problem is.” Gaining the courage to look into his eyes, you sighed. “I don’t want you sleeping with anyone, Josh.” Deciding in a moment's notice that this needed to be done right then, not letting him speak, you continued on. “I like you. A lot. I don’t want you sleeping with anyone.” 

Your voice had quieted, the loud tone gone. Josh’s voice evened to match yours. “Then, why the hell did you say that?” Plopping down on the edge of the mattress, you struggled to put it into words, a total word vomit exploding from you. 

“Because this is moving so fast! I-I feel like we’ve skipped every single dating step. I know everything there is to know about you. You met my family!” Trying to calm down, you took a deep breath. “It’s just a lot. Not to mention you’re still my boss.” A sigh fell from the boy's lips, crouching down and his palms laying flat on the tops of your thighs.

When his lips landed on your forehead, he stood, kicking his shoes off and laying on the bed with a loud groan. Making a show of trying to get comfortable, he moved the pillows around, turned on the lamps on both nightstand tables, and patted the spot next to him. 

Your furrowed brows showed you didn’t understand what he was doing. “Tell me everything about you. I want to know it all.” Hesitating, he spoke before you could, reassuring words washing over you. “I like you, birdie. A lot. This is more to me than just sex. I hope you know that. We have nowhere to be so you and I are gonna sit here all night and you’re going to tell me every detail about your life. I want to know it all.”

Feeling your eyes burn with tears, your head fell forward, walking towards your side of the bed and sitting criss-cross applesauce. Wracking your brain about if this was the right thing to do, you decided it was. It absolutely was. 

“I grew up in California with my mom and brother and sister. It had been just us since I was nine years old.” That was just the start. 

You two stayed up all night as you shared every minute speckle of information you could think of to him. He ate it up. It was like the best story he had ever heard. Enamored with how you became the person you were. What you had to go through and endure just to get where you were now. It was inspiring. 

It was like he was looking at you in an entirely different light. Somehow one that made him fall for you even more. He didn’t think that was possible, but there it was. With every sentence you spoke, he hung on each word. Inching closer to him as the night went on, you weren’t sure when, but at some point you two had fallen asleep together. 

Completely entangled in the others limbs, your head resting on his arm, fingers tangled together, legs meshed as one, his free arm tucked behind his head, your free one draped across his torso. You felt no remorse or guilt about having shared what you did. A new line, a new set of rules had to be made, but you were fine with that. 

It was something that could happen as time went on, drafting them and redrafting them together. Establishing new boundaries with one another instead of you creating imaginary ones in your mind. No, this needed to be done together. 

Excitement. 

The butterflies danced in your stomach as you walked some city streets with Josh, dressed up just a bit. He had slipped a note under your papers on your clipboard knowing that you checked them all at the end of the night and you were in awe when you read it. 

Roses are red, violets are blue, it would be an honor to go on a first date with you. -J

(This part doesn’t rhyme, but be dressed and ready tomorrow night at nine. A little nice. Nothing too much. Okay I think that’s all. If there’s more I’ll just text you)

You giggled uncontrollably at the adorable note, stashing it away with the other he had written for you before. Spending far too much time getting primped and ready for your date with him, you couldn’t fight the nerves pounding you. 

This was different from all of the other hangouts you did. There was more pressure. An actual date. 

When Josh lightly knocked at your door, you saw him slightly dressed up and whistled as you took him in. “Looking sharp, Mr. Kiszka.” He did a small twirl, cheeks growing pinker by the second as he eyed you in your outfit. 

“I can say the same about you.” He immediately took your hand, running down the hallway together, trying to avoid anyone and everyone so as not to be seen going out together. The entire walk to the restaurant was quiet, but comfortable. Excitement and nerves wracking you both. 

As you two were about to walk into the front doors, he stopped, pulling you back towards him and smiling brightly at you. “I hate first dates. They’re awkward and hard. Why don’t we just make it as casual as we can. It’s still us.” Taking a deep breath at his words, you nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand as he leaned in, placing a light kiss to your lips. 

Like breathing in new life, it invigorated you. Bringing you back to the moment and who you were really here with. Not a stranger, the complete opposite. Someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. There was no need for it to be weird.

The evening was one of the best you two had spent together. Fantastic food, many laughs, it made you think back to France. The night it all changed. As you sipped your glass, Josh caught his breath from laughing at a story about his brothers in high school. 

“You know this isn’t our first date?” You set your glass down, eyebrows going up as you uttered those words. “At least, I don’t count it as our first.” His brow furrowed, shaking his head as he thought about it. 

When it dawned on him, he smiled, face tinting. “France.” You both spoke out at the same time. Thinking fondly back to that night, you watched as he swallowed thickly, standing from the table and taking your hand in his. 

Rushing back to the hotel room, you played into the first date theme of the evening. Once the door shut behind you both, Josh’s lips landed firmly on your collarbones, dusting them with kisses. “I normally don’t put out on the first date. I hate to have given you that impression twice,” your breath caught in your throat as you felt his breath fan against your skin with a laugh.

Hands cupping your cheeks, tucking the hair behind your ears, his beaming smile greeted you as he held eye contact with you. “Well I normally am not in love on the first date. I hate to have given you that impression twice,” he pulled you towards him, lips meeting in a gentle fashion. No rush, no time frame to follow.

Just you two, reveling in that moment. 

Sweat glistened on both of your bodies, Josh sitting up against the headboard, you in his lap, legs on either side of his frame, lightly moving as you breathed the other in. Hair stuck to napes of necks, arms wrapped securely around your waist to ensure you couldn’t escape, panting moans falling into the room. 

It was heaven. Being with him like this. In such a natural and graceful form. Where you two melded together as one. I love you’s whispered out, afraid to fall to anyone else's ears, only meant for the lover they held. 

Reaching peaks together as white hot passion blinded you. Head falling back, exposing the expanse of your neck, he pulled you back to him, not wanting you to go so far. Feeling him seep out of you, back onto his still hard shaft. The most intense end you had ever reached in your life. 

Knowing you would never have a session like this again. Where so much was shared without a single word uttered than the bare necessities. Going down to the bare roots and core of your partner. Feeling the indents his fingertips were going to leave for days to come. A scalding memory of the night. 

One you would never forget. 

Secret rendezvous and dates became a normality for you two on the road. Long after the posse had retreated for the night, Josh would come to your door and whisk you away for as long as he could. Sometimes for the entire night, others for as little as a half an hour. It didn’t matter as long as he had some time with you. It was all he needed. All he craved. 

Stolen glances and touches were shared more and more. Getting more confident with each move, you started initiating some. Much to Josh’s surprise. You never did falter and call him by his first name in front of everyone though. Still holding firm to your job and its duties was still of the utmost importance to you.

It’s why when his mom came to a show, you were on top of your game. Wanting him to spend as much time with her as he could, you took over even more. He spoke of his mom so often to you, he obviously loved her dearly. Wanting you to meet her as his partner was just not in the cards right now. Instead, you were introduced as his assistant. 

Staying and chatting with her for a bit as he changed into his show garb, filming a video with her as a cameo had giggles and laughter fluttering from everyone. You knew where he got his light and spark from. 

When it was show time, Josh’s hand squeezed yours a second longer than he should have. His mom watched from afar the little motion, her eyebrow shooting up at it. Watching as her son's gaze held you even after your attention had turned to continue doing your job. 

She bit back a smile, feeling the giddy sensation fill her at what she was witnessing. “Mrs. Kiszka, can I take you to your seat?” You offered and she agreed, walking slowly with you to where her dedicated seat was for the show. 

“How are you and Josh getting along? I know he can be a lot to handle,” you laughed at her words, shrugging as you did. “Great! Mr. Kiszka is easy to work with actually.” She hummed, turning to face you fully as her hand landed on your cheek with a light pat. 

Sighing, she offered a gentle smile. “I see why he loves you,” your jaw fell open, shaking your head, but her bubbling laugh filled the space. “Oh, honey. It’s so obvious, I’m shocked no one else has caught on. Maybe it’s because I’m his mother, but the way he looks at you is like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Unsure how to respond, not knowing if you should just give in or deny, she held her hands up. “I won’t say anything, promise. You let me know if he does something stupid. It’s still Josh.” Smiling at her words, she turned and took her seat in the stands, the boys immediately finding their mother and where she was watching from, subtly saying hello. 

The next night, Josh laid next to you in bed, a sheepish look plastered on his face. “I did something bad.” Your deadpanned expression told him you weren’t amused with whatever he was about to say. 

“I told my mom about us. She said she already knew, I swear I don’t know how, but yeah. She’s the only one. Scouts honor,” he held the signal up as he spoke, clearly worried about your reaction. Sitting up in the bed and coming face to face with him you smiled. “Your mom told me last night at the show she knew. Something about how you looked at me,” his soft smile had his dimples on display.

Nodding at your words, he cleared his throat, taking in a breath. “Yeah, well I don’t know what look she’s talking about. I promise though, no one else knows.” Leaning down and chastly kissing you, you pulled back and spoke. 

“Good. The whole secret relationship thing is such a turn on.” He mumbled against your lips as he spoke again. “I am so glad to hear you say that because I have a few games I want to play with you.”

Pulling back, your eyebrows shot up your face. “Games?” He nodded, looking at you like you were crazy for not already knowing what he was talking about. “Sexy chicken, vibrator controlled by the phone remote-” pushing his face away with a laugh, he giggled, hair a poofy mess as he fell back down to you.

“Joking, joking. I wouldn’t want my goody two shoes to get in trouble. Oh, I figured out your favorite color by the way." You rolled your eyes at his enthusiastic tone.

Patting his lips, a shit eating grin took over his face. "You know what they say about a mans lip color, right?" This was going to be a blast. 

[nonclassyparty]

man with the plan (j.wy) - chapter 2.

Summary: "Don't forget Pretty, I'm serving life plus one. So if I get busted for attempted escape, I'll throw in a homicide in there as well with no problem, that’s like a parking ticket to me." When your brother ends up in jail for a murder he didn't commit, the only thing left for you to do is to find a way to break him out. But after a perfect plan is set in motion, you don't expect a romantic variable to get added into the equation.

Pairing: jung wooyoung x fem. reader, jeong yunho x reader (but if u squint)

Status: in progress

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: idk for this one, still some cursing, nothing too heavy

Taglist: @tinyjuni @hazysan @atinytinaa @tenebrisirae @doggopepper @dazzlingstarrs @lavishloving @cherrypandora @silentcry329 @jeagerist-20 @myunvillage @manipulatedstars @bitteryu @maru-matt @bubbleteakittyy @joonsthethicc

A/N: hi guys! welcome to chapter 2 of man with the plan....i don't really have anything to say so enjoy lmfao!! wait i do!! if u find any plot holes LITERALLY do not tell me i don't want to know kjfgjkdfhgjkf

my main masterlist // playlist // moodboard // ao3

chapter 1 // masterlist // chapter 3

Chapter 2; How’d I get here, sitting next to you?

The sun is high up in the sky by the time you're walking across the gravel, eyes combing through the yard filled out with men in blue prisoner uniforms. The October air embraces you, it's still chilly despite it nearing noon now but the little bit of sunshine makes the whole place feel more alive and less eerie.

"Hello." You greet, a couple of feet away from the wired fence stopping to stand behind a man occupying an empty lone bench with a Calico cat gently held in his arms that he strokes as he watches out at the yard.

He turns to look over his shoulder, faint surprise etched across his features. His dark hair almost covers his eyes, "Hello."

You sniffle, giving him a faint smile, "You're Park Seonghwa, aren't you?"

His eyes scan you from head to toe, not in a lewd matter whatsoever, but more so in curiosity. "Yes."

His voice is gentle. In fact, the man looks entirely misplaced in an environment like this with his soft and pretty-like features. Not to mention the pet.

"I knew your older sister." You tell him, noticing the way his eyes sadden a little at the mention of his older sibling that passed away a couple of months back from lung cancer. 

And well! You didn't exactly get to know her by accident, you purposefully sought her out but Seonghwa here doesn't need to know that.

He pursues his lips, turning to face the yard again and giving you his back, "You knew Nayeon?"

You cock your head to the side, "You mean Sooyoung? Yes, we were members of the same book club. The one in our neighbourhood."

"Ah, the one in Myeongdong." He comments with a nod and your lips quirk up.

"You mean the one in Seongsu-dong? Yes." You bounce right back to him and finally, he turns to look at you again with his own mouth pulling up in an intrigued smile.

"Alright, no more quizzes." He slides around the bench, turning to face you fully with the cat still in his arms, his thumb running across it's head, "What do you want?"

You throw a glance behind you just to notice that there are no guards around before nodding towards the Calico in his lap, "How do they allow you to have it in here?"

"She's not an it, her name is Mijoo." Seonghwa says protectively holding the cat against his chest, "And she's a comfort pet, they allow us to have one or two of those. Only to the ones who are on their best behavior in here, though."

Ah, so he's a goody two-shoes.

You nod with a hum and Seonghwa's eyes leave the cat, Mijoo, as he picks his head up to look at you, "Now you answer my question, what do you want?"

You chuckle, mouth pulling up in a grin as you look to the side in little embarrassment before bringing your attention back to him, "I heard you were Park Ha-ru."

Now, it's Seonghwa's turn to chuckle, "You know, every time they bring a new con in here, he'll approach me and ask the same question," He tilts his head, "Why do you want to know though? Who even are you?"

"I'm Y/N," You motion to the rubble and workers on the other side of the compound, "New supervisor of the construction site."

"Ah," He eyes the building site over your shoulder before looking at you again, "This isn't exactly the place for you, y'know? Surely you must've known that before taking the job and I don't think any boss would be cruel enough to send a young woman to supervise a construction site at a level one prison."

You smile, "I volunteered."

He seems peeved by your response, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he looks you over before sighing.

"Well, I'll tell you the same thing I told everyone else," Seonghwa pursues his lips before placing a small kiss on Mijoo's head, "I'm not him."

Your stomach feels like it's in knots as you stare at him, looking for any signs of dishonesty. Either Park Seonghwa is one hell of a liar or...he just isn't the guy. 

...and you got it all wrong.

You think you'll go with option number one, simply to save your brain from going in overdrive with panic. He has to be the one.

"That's too bad," You sigh with a small shrug, smiling, "It would've been kind of cool if you were."

He laughs at that, "Trust me, no-one is more sad about that than me." Seonghwa snorts, eyes squinting from the sun as he stares up at you from the bench, "Having 1.6 billion won hidden somewhere, waiting for me to get out so I could claim it. Unfortunately, all I have is a re-modelled basement in my parents' house and a shitty car waiting for me when I get out."

You chuckle with a nod as your eyes fall to the grass below your boots, "Right."

"Sorry to disappoint." He adds quietly, eyes burning into your profile.

You shake your head with a smirk, "Didn't disappoint." Taking a couple of steps further back when you notice a guard appearing on the other corner of the fence, "It was nice talking to you, Seonghwa."

You know he's puzzled by you, it's easy to read his face but he doesn't voice it, simply nods. "You too."

You walk up the gravel with your hands dug deep into the pockets of your coat until you near the entrance of the building and let out a low groan, remembering you had an appointment with the warden to help him out with the present for his dear wife.

-

The buzzer followed up by the sound of the door opening and feet shuffling in causes you to look up from the surface of the table in front of you. 

Two guards lead Jongho towards you and cuff him to the table, as per usual. He looks like he's gaining some muscle in there, the color of his cheeks is back and hair is shorter but other than that, he looks like the same old Jongho. The only difference is that your brother looks at you like he's about to give you the scolding of a lifetime.

You're both silent, Jongho cranes his neck subtly to watch the guards walk back to the other side of the room before turning towards you, looking absolutely furious.

"Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?" Jongho hisses out, leaning close to the glass separating the two of you.

You let out a small huff, innocently looking around the room. A full row of glass windows with inmates on one side of the glass with their families on the other surrounded the both of you.

"I don't know what you mean." You tell your brother in a relaxed manner, watching his eyes fall shut in frustration at your purposeful denseness.

"Drop the bullshit." Jongho commands you in a low tone, eyes set in a glare. Except there's no anger in his words but worry, "Whatever it is that you're doing, just stop."

You press your lips together, placing your trembling hands in your lap. "I can't do that."

Your brother watches you in confusion through the glass, mouth lightly hanging open as he shakes his head at you, wondering what you've gotten yourself into.

"Jongho, I only have ten minutes so you need to shut the fuck up and listen to me now." You lean closer to tell him in a whisper, glancing over his shoulder to check on the guards who were still by the wall on the other side. There were too many ears surrounding you even without any wires in the visitations room but you knew Jongho well enough to know that he won't budge until you throw him a bone, so you'll have to speak in your little code praying that he will understand; "Jay is leaving soon."

Complete and utter confusion clouds Jongho's face as he leans even closer, nose touching the glass as he stares at you with furrowed brows.

You bite back on your frustration, "Jay, you remember him?" 

"Jay? You mean m-"  Your brother finally remembers the nickname you had for him when you were a mere child.

"Yes. He's leaving soon. The foster home he's been stuck in, well, they told me the conditions are just terrible," You explain with a soft chuckle while Jongho hangs onto every word that leaves your mouth, you glance to your side where another visitor sits just a couple of inches away conversing with an inmate, "So he's getting out of there."

It takes a second for the words to sink in before the confusion on his face is erased completely and replaced by disbelief.

"Jongho, do you understand?"

He's silent for a short moment, swallowing nervously before his eyes meet yours again, "I understand but...but Y/N, that's impossible."

You give your brother a comforting smile, "Not if you designed the place it isn't."

Jongho's eyes grow wide as saucers, "You're break-"

"Shut up." His mouth clamps shut immediately. "There's no other way."

"Y/N-" Your brother starts again, voice lower but you're too busy noticing that the woman next to you is standing up and with that, the tables on both of your sides will be empty. You lean as close to him you can get with the glass serving as a barrier between the two of you.

"I only have three minutes left, so listen to me." You tell him and he opens his mouth again to interject but you're quicker. The guards are by the wall, unmoving, it's only a matter of time before someone occupies the empty seats. You whisper to him, "The benches in the yard, they have a certain type of bolt in them that you'll need. Use a quarter to unscrew it, you only need one and for fuck's sake, make sure no-one sees you doing it."

"Wait, you're actually serious about this."

You suck in a sharp breath, swearing that if there wasn't the glass in front of you, you would've slapped him by now. "Well, I'm not exactly on vacation here Jongho, trust me."

He looks positively bamboozled.

"Do you understand what we need?" He needs a second before quickly nodding, you nod back, "Good, now tell me, your new cellmate..."

Jongho scoffs with an eyeroll, "It's some guy named Coin. A pain in my ass is what he is."

"Coin?" You question in confusion at the stupid name before quickly shaking his head, "Doesn't matter, can you trust him?"

"Trust who? Coin?" Jongho looks like you've grown a second head before explaining. "If you sewed the guy's mouth shut, he'd find a way to talk through his ass. A thief from what I heard, robbed a liquor store armed and ended up here." He eyes you, "Why do you wanna know so much about my cellmates anyway?"

"Because it won't work without your cellmate. We need him." You whisper back, eyes on the clock as the time ticks away. A minute left.

"There's no way to trust anyone in here, let alone him." Your brother comments lowly. Your eyes fall to the surface of the table in thought before you sigh. He looks at you like you've grown a second head, "You want me to tell him?"

You press your forehead against the glass separating you, the surface cool on your skin as you murmur, "If your cellmate isn't on board, there's no digging and if there's no digging then there's no getting out of here."

"I tell Coin, he'll yapp his mouth off to the rest and then it's over." Jongho mutters back, face set in carefully disguised panic.

"Well, it's just going to have to be a leap of faith then." You mutter to yourself before looking up at him, "Find out if you can trust him first and get the...thing from the yard," You glance at the guards by the door one last time, "I'll tell you what to do next but please, just be careful."

You don't want to even imagine what would happen to him if he were to get caught.

"Y/N, this is too dangerous, you can end up in tr-"

"Don't. Get. Caught." Is the last thing you say before your ten minutes are up and you're standing up from the chair, sparing your brother one last glance before heading towards the exit.

-

You swing your legs lightly from the chair as you watch Doctor Jung write something down behind his desk before he slides on his rolly chair over to you, getting so close that your knees almost brush.

He gives you a playful smile, cocking his head back a little to look at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. "You went to SNU."

You smile, rolling up the sleeve on your left arm and holding it out for him, "You've been checking up on me."

He shrugs at your comment, rubbing the soaked cotton ball over your arm with one hand while holding the needle in the other, "I like to get to know my patients, I graduated from there three years before you."

Your eyes are on the floor, not being able to stand the sight of him sinking the needle into your arm. You try not to think about it, instead focus on his devastatingly handsome face as you give him a quick smile, "Maybe we met before. Drunk, at a bar somewhere."

"Doubt it." Doctor Jung responds, you can feel him pulling the needle out and placing a clean cotton ball on your arm for you to hold, which you do. "I'm sure I would've remembered you."

Your brow ticks up as a flirty grin makes way to your face, "That a compliment?"

He glances at you, a smile of his own growing on his lips and if your eyes don't deceive you, a flush on his cheeks, "It is if you want it to be."

You just hum in response, gaze not backing away from his face that it makes him squirm and he stands up with a flustered cough. Your smile grows.

Too easy.

"Sit there for a little bit, I'll get your blood tests, they came from the lab an hour ago." He tells you, already heading to the door and refusing to look at you.

Cute.

The moment he disappears from view, you throw the cotton ball on the table next to you and walk over to the drain, pulling out two tubes and hurriedly squeezing out their contents through the slates on the grate.

The smell is strong but the sizzling is immediate and you shove the empty tubes back into the inner pockets of your blazer before sitting down on the chair the handsome doctor left you in.

You glance down at your arm where you placed back the cotton pad, staring at the small bottle inked onto your skin with the words 'Cute Poison' hanging above it.

Cute Poison, rather a mnemonic for copper sulfate and phosphoric acid that you carefully poured into two empty toothpaste tubes the night before in your own bathroom should get the job done as soon as the good doctor here confirms that you are, in fact, diabetic and need daily shots. 

You did a lot of research on it in the months of preparation, never been much of a chemist.

But you did know one thing, when these two chemicals are mixed together, they will react violently and corrode metal.

You cast one last glance at water drainage under the sink before your attention is snatched away by Doctor Jung walking into the room with a clipboard.

He sits down on the same chair in front of you, flipping through the papers on it.

"Hmmm." He lets out and you bring your gaze from the floor over to him where he sits with his brows furrowed as he reads off of the papers.

"What?" You ask, trying not to seem too tense although the way your foot kicks up and down might give you away.

"Your blood glucose is at fifty milligrams per deciliter." Wooyoung says in mild confusion and maybe concern.

"So?" You question obtusely, playing dense being the better option in a situation like this despite knowing exactly what it means. But you're already feeling your heartbeat accelerate at the fact that the pills weren't fucking working.

Why weren't they working? You took one this morning before leaving. Did they need more time to kick in?

Your palms are already starting to sweat.

 "Your body's reacting to the insulin as though you're not a diabetic. Are you sure it's Type 1 Diabetes you got?" He voices out with his attention on you.

You nod with lips pressed together before calmly answering; "Ever since I was a kid."

"Alright." He looks down to the chart again, "And you're not experiencing any tingling sensations, cold sweats?"

You silently shake your head with a sheepish smile, the shaky hand gripping the bottom of the chair you're sitting on.

Wooyoung takes a moment to go through the papers again before the ringing of the phone on his desk cuts through the silence (and your inner panic). He stands up to get it but not before turning to you;

"I'd like to run some tests the next time you're in." Wooyoung informs you with his lips folded in a pout that you think comes naturally to him when he's serious. He might not even be aware of it. Cute. But you're in deep shit, you don't have the time to think about that. "The last thing I want is to be administering insulin to a girl who doesn't need it."

You feign a smile as you stand up as well, "Yeah, sure."

He takes a moment to gauge your face again but the phone keeps ringing. The doctor sighs, glancing at it, "Okay."

You head for the door and towards your small, cramped office feeling utterly worried.

Once you reach your office, you close the door shut and stare at your hand that shakes uncontrollably. If the pills, PUGNAC, didn't work and he discovers that you're not diabetic, the whole plan falls through.

No, no, no. You can't think like that Y/N, you tell yourself, have a little faith.

The guy who got them for you said that they were insulin blockers, the real deal.

So they're supposed to work but maybe they need more time. Wooyoung gave you your first shot three days ago, that's when you started to take the pills each morning. 

Maybe they needed more time to kick in.

They'll work.

They have to.

-

Hongjoong deemed himself as a fairly smart guy.

Sure, he was in prison currently serving two life sentences but he did manage to get away with his crimes for years on years before he eventually and inevitably got caught, that had to count for something, right?

So, yes, Hongjoong was a smart guy.

Which is exactly why the moment they walked him into the visitations room and sat him down in front of a complete stranger when usually, only Jeongin would visit him, Hongjoong knew that something was brewing.

He stays quiet, eyeing the guy who seems to be about his age as the guard cuffs him to the table and Hongjoong sighs in annoyance, so many unnecessary precautions. Where the hell would he even go if he tried to run from here?

The moment the guard steps further away, Hongjoong turns to the stranger.

"Who the fuck are you?" Hongjoong stares at the man's face, trying to gauge if he might know him from somewhere but when he comes up blank, he waits for the man's response.

"I'm just here to deliver a message to you Mr. Kim." The man answers, he's in a suit and tie, all perfectly ironed, hair brushed back and an expensive watch hanging from his wrist. 

If anyone else were to see him, they'd probably think he worked a cozy office job and drank scotch like a pretentious fuck when he visited bars but Hongjoong can recognize a thug when he sees one.

"I'm not taking any messages, thanks." Hongjoong dryly responds, already moving to call the guard over before he gets stopped by the man's voice again.

"You might want to take this message." Hongjoong freezes in place when he sees the photo the guy presses to the glass and it causes him to sit his ass back down on the chair once again.

Thrilled, he leans in closer, observing the photo, eyes stuck on the familiar face that's been plaguing his mind for the last four years.

"Gunwoo..." Hongjoong mutters to himself, eyeing the familiar man in the photo before turning his attention back to the stranger, "You know where he is."

"I don't." The stranger responds and Hongjoong almost deflates about to curse him out until the man continues, "But the person who sent me here, does."

That puzzles Hongjoong and he stays quiet, deep in thought for a long moment. "What do you want? I don't have time for games."

Well, that was a lie. He had two life sentences worth of time but he just wasn't in the mood right now.

"The person who sent me here told me to pass on a message which is that you should speak to Choi Jongho."

Hongjoong frowns at that, growing perpetually more confused the more he sits here.

Choi Jongho was brought in a little over a year ago, Hongjoong remembers it well. 

It's hard to forget a kid that killed the Vice President's brother in cold blood. It was all over the news, spread even through the prison like wildfire among the guards. He was the talk of town when they first brought him into his cell.

But once everyone realized that he was kind of boring, just sticking to his cell and one and the same corner of the yard, everyone slowly forgot about him. He didn't do much of anything else to remain remembered, just a guy that killed someone and was now serving life.

Guys like that are a dime a dozen in here.

So why the hell was someone sending him a message to speak to Choi Jongho?

"And Choi knows where Gunwoo is?" Hongjoong asks. Finding Gunwoo was the most important thing for now, he honestly couldn't care less how he'd have to get that information out of anyone.

Let alone Choi Jongho. If he knew where Gunwoo was, Hongjoong wouldn't even try to play whatever game someone wants him to, just ten minutes alone with him during P.I. time and a pair of claw scissors and Hongjoong would get what he wants out of him.

"No." The stranger responds and Hongjoong has to bite back another groan, growing more pissed off by the second.

"Then what?" He snaps back, eyes set in a glare as his patience starts getting tested. "Who knows?"

"The same person who sent me here and is pulling my own strings." The stranger remarks with his lips pursued as if he's nervous. 

He should be, Hongjoong thinks because if he finds out that all of this is a scam he'll make sure his people find this man.

"When you go up to talk to Choi Jongho, you need to give him something."

Hongjoong can't believe what he's hearing. What the hell is he supposed to give him? Money? For information Choi apparently doesn't have?

"What?" He asks bluntly, agitated.

The man places something on the table in front of him and Hongjoong peers at the small object through the glass before letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

-

Gato was snoring obnoxiously on the lower bunk and it felt like someone was grating Hongjoong's nerves as he leaned against the bars of the cell, peering up and down the long two floors of identical cells until his eyes stopped on a specific one.

Choi Jongho mimicked Hongjoong's position in his own cell on the upper floor opposite of him. His hands hanging from the bar as he stares through the bars to the lower floor, eyes empty and unfocused.

Hongjoong spent the rest of the time in the yard after visitation observing Choi, wanting to see if the younger man would do anything, give him some sort of signal, something. But the kid didn't so much as glance at him. Only kept to his little corner of the yard with his obnoxiously loud cellmate hanging around him.

Did Choi Jongho even know Hongjoong was told to approach him?

Hongjoong stared at the kid's face, his dark hair was curling around his ears and he'd look younger than he actually was if it wasn't for the obvious muscle he was packing under his sweatshirt.

"I should also warn you that if anything were to happen to Choi Jongho...or myself after this visit is over, you'll never find out where Gunwoo is." The stranger discloses and Hongjoong wants to let out a laugh.

"Like I give a fuck, I'm already serving life plus one man, I don't care for Gunwoo." That was a lie but he got caught red handed, Hongjoong's first plan was most definitely to hurt Choi for information.

"I think you have much more at stake here Mr. Kim considering that if Gunwoo testifies, your family hidden in Osaka would be left vulnerable and all the assets that allow them to live lavishly while you're in here would disappear. Isn't that why you're trying to find him in the first place? So all the enemies you've made over the years don't target your loved ones." Hongjoong's face drops and he raises his arm to slap the glass in front of him but before his anger could get the best of him, he leans in closer to the man sitting opposite of him.

"Who are you?" Hongjoong hisses, cheeks flushing in anger as he glares down the stranger.

"I told you already, I'm just someone sent in here with orders to talk to you."

Hongjoong inhales a deep breath, getting tired of playing this silly game.

"I have the people to find Gunwoo myself. I don't need anyone else playing detective for me in exchange for whatever it is they want." Hongjoong states with his arms crossed, not being used to anyone seeing him with his defenses down. Playing the one not in charge was never his forte.

"That may be but whoever is pulling my strings isn't just offering Gunwoo's location." The stranger voices out, leaning in closer to the glass window with a glint in his eye, "They're offering you an opportunity to get Gunwoo yourself."

And well, that definitely peaked Hongjoong's interest.

Hongjoong kicks Gato's leg which immediately stirs him from deep sleep and causes the bigger man to open his eyes. "Wake up, knucklehead."

"What, boss?" The man asks in a gruff voice, lightly sitting up on the uncomfortable bunk bed.

Hongjoong really can't believe that he's about to ask this, as he turns to his cellmate holding out a piece of paper.

"What do you know about making dove origamis?"

-

Your nerves were skyrocketing as you walked down the hallway leading to the infirmary, remembering that the good doctor was supposed to run "some tests" today as he promised during your last visit. 

You were an optimist by nature, always holding onto the last shred of faith no matter how miniscule it was but your brain couldn't help but taunt you, what if the pills didn't work this time either? What if you got the wrong prescription? What if...

Hence the nerves.

"Hello." You greet quietly, walking into the room where Doctor Jung was already sitting with a kit prepared in front of him. 

"How are we doing today, Miss Y/N?" He asks casually, motioning for you to sit on the usual chair in front of him.

Immediately, you find your way over there and plop down on the chair, "I'm good."

He looks at you with a faint smile, honey skin looking healthy and smooth under the sunshine beaming through the infirmary windows. "Everything good on the construction site?"

You barely register his question, too busy watching as he takes your index finger and swabs it, getting ready to administer the test.

"Uh, yeah." You respond distractedly, the fact that needles made you queasy didn't exactly help calm the nerves.

 He gives you a weird look, probably expecting a flirty response but you weren't in the mood today. What happened next could make or break the plan you've spent the last year making and you can only watch as he punctures the skin, drawing blood and applies a testing pad to take the blood from your finger.

You observe his actions, clearing your throat. "How long does this take?" "It used to take hours, but we've come a long way with the new glucose kits. This'll take us about ten seconds."  Doctor Jung explains with ease and you look away in apprehension when he continues to speak; "Slide this strip into the meter then we're ready to go." After he places the strip into the meter, he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'm sure you know this but, the average glucose for a non-diabetic is about one hundred milligrams per deciliter. We see a number like that here and we know you've been misdiagnosed."

You're starting to feel ill. What's even worse, you probably look ill. But you can't help but fidget around, scratching the inside of your sweaty palm as you turn your head to glance at the grate under the sink.

You could feel blood rush to your head the more you think about what the hell you were to do if the diabetic excuse fell through. With a soft sigh, you bring a hand up to rub your temple out of habit.  "You seem nervous." Doctor Jung softly remarks, bringing your attention back to the fact that he can see you. Can notice you quietly losing your shit.

How the hell do you fix that?

Turn on the charm again, Y/N. It doesn't matter if you're pale as a ghost. He likes you. Your lips perk up and eyebrows raise in an act of amused surprise, you hope your face is at least a little bit distracting enough for him to let it go, "I do?" To your surprise and chagrin, he doesn't bat an eye though, "You're sweating." You shake your head, mouth pulled in a sheepish smile, "Must be the needles. Never got used to them." The beep of the meter brings your full focus from Wooyoung to the meter itself. "Somehow, with diabetes and that tattoo, I find that hard to believe." He comments quietly and it sends a zap through you, your weird behavior undoubtedly will be raising suspicion if you don't get it together. It also might be harder to have the good doctor wrapped around your finger than you thought. You pull the sleeve of your shirt down to cover your tattooed arm.

Wooyoung takes the meter, reading the results off of it as you straighten up in your chair.

 "Ah. Bad news I'm afraid." You hold your breath, feeling like your heart is in your throat when he turns the meter towards you with his lips pressed together. "One hundred and eighty milligrams per deciliter. You are definitely diabetic."

Relief floods your body with such strength that you seem to forget yourself in front of him as you try to suppress the huge smile threatening to take over your features that you have to lower your gaze to your lap. They worked. The pills finally worked.

But then you feel his curious eyes on you and you quickly straighten out in the chair again. Doctor Jung looks at you with brows slightly furrowed in obvious puzzlement as to why someone would look so happy to find out they are in fact diabetic and you figure that you need to leave immediately. "Do you need anything else from me?" You ask, suddenly feeling rejuvenated and he looks perplexed as he shakes his head at you. "Just an arm to stick a needle in."  You give him a big smile, nodding and getting up. "Okay."

But just as you're about to reach the door you slow down in your steps; the way he was looking at you, the curiosity not sitting too well with you. Because you know there will be a time when you will have to do questionable things, if something simple as this test raised suspicion then there was no hope in the long run.

You had to gain at least a sliver of his trust, grow some type of bond between the two of you where you could act a little foolish and he'd look past it without second thought because he didn't consider you to be a danger of any kind.

Only way to do that though was something you weren't awfully good at; being vulnerable.

You clear your throat, turning to him again to see Wooyoung already going through another pile of papers.

"I am scared of them. Needles." You tell him truthfully, probably the first truth you told him ever since you meet him a week ago. He looks up from the papers in surprise that you're still in the infirmary with him, his hair falling into his face that he has to run a hand through it to get it out of the way.

Wooyoung stays silent, brows stitching together and it's obvious he doesn't quite buy it as he glances down at your tattoos. The thing is, he doesn't know why you're lying but he knows that you are.

Which is a problem in itself.

You follow his eyes that are still stuck on your bare arm as the sleeves of your button up are rolled up to your elbows. You chuckle, folding your hands behind your back to hide them from view.

"It's not the same with the tattoos." You tell him and for the first time around him because you're feeling a little stupid since you can't explain yourself, you blush. "I don't know how but...I mean I think it has something to do with the veins and holding my hands out like this-" You stretch out your arms so your veins are showcased, "It makes me feel at unease."

Wooyoung listens to you carefully, papers long forgotten as he sits at the edge of the table.

"That's the most textbook example of how someone with trypanophobia would feel." He voices out, his attention entirely devoted to you that it makes you slightly shift on your feet. As much as you enjoy his eyes on you, they also make you equally as nervous.

"Huh," You chuckle, glancing away with your lips pressed together in discomfort under his dissecting gaze.

"Well, at least you know that you could never be a junkie." He adds in a lighthearted tone that you almost miss the way the smile doesn't entirely reach his eyes. Almost.

"Right." You chuckle, taking a step back as you deem the conversation to be over. You send him a small wave as you head for the door.

"See you tomorrow." He calls after you and you just keep walking without looking back.

-

When you walk out into the cold morning air the next morning on your way to the construction site, your head instinctively turns towards the yard where the inmates were already released to and spot a familiar figure lingering near the fence closest to you.

Jongho straightens out with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of the same jacket everyone else in the yard is wearing when he sees you walk out of the building and you inconspicuously glance around for any guards.

Once you realize that there aren't any in the vicinity nearby, you make your way across the gravel towards him.

"That outfit really highlights your figure, bro." Is the first thing you tell him with a teasing smirk as you stop to stand in front of him. He chuckles but it has no humor as he looks over his shoulder before turning to you.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm not here to discuss prison fashion." He mutters with an eyeroll but you can see a glimpse of an amused smile threatening to pull on his face and your chest warms at the sight. "Listen, I got what you asked for."

He pats the right pocket of his pants subtly where you presume he's hidden the bolt and you nod in approval.

"You really meant what you said, huh?" Jongho asks again, referencing your last visit and you let out another huff of disbelief that he didn't take you as seriously as you hoped he would.

"I already told you, I'm not here on vacation."

He stares at you for a silent moment before clearing his throat, glancing over his shoulder to make sure there's still no-one around to listen in.

"Whatever you got going on, fill me in because I'm still in the dark here." He expresses quietly, eyebrows pushed together as he waits for a response. You sigh.

"Lim and Associates got the contract to retro this place in ninety nine. Four billion dollar contract, head partner couldn't crack it, so he subcontracted out. An under the table sort of deal with a former associate." You quietly explain, turning to stand sideways in front of him to not seem too suspicious while still being able to be on lookout for any guards that might be watching you. 

Although that doesn't seem to be a problem since, with the exception of the officers stationed on the four towers surrounding the compound, most of them are still having their morning coffee in the break room.

 "That guy was one of the partners in my firm. We basically ghostwrote the plan, crossed the t's, dotted the I's, grouted the tiles." You tell him, lips perking up in satisfaction as you watch him digest the information. 

Jongho seems confused as he digests the new information, probably trying to connect what that has anything to do with your current situation of supervising a construction site while planning a detailed prison escape.

"You've seen the blueprints." He concludes before his face turns serious, "If anyone finds out you have copies of them, you'll be in deep shit. They can report you for missing documents at work, Y/N-"

You snort, "They won't find them because I don't have them on paper anywhere."

His brows furrow, "You memorized them?"

"Better than that," You disclose, subtly pulling the sleeve of your coat and shirt underneath to show him your inked arm, "I have them on me."

Jongho stares at the tattoo's lining your forearm with wide eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He hisses, glancing over his shoulder again. You imagine that you always have to be on guard in a place like this. "Am I supposed to be seeing something there?"

"Don't worry about that." You calmly respond, tugging your sleeves down before shoving your hands back into the pockets of your coat, "Your cellmate...how well do you know him?"

"Ah, as well as a man can get to know another man in a week." Jongho sighs, head turning in the direction of a tall guy huddled on the bench conversing with a couple of others. You observe him in curiosity, guessing that's your brother's roommate, watching as the guy glances in Jongho's direction before his eyes stop on you. "We can trust him."

He doesn't look much older than Jongho, you can't gauge his features that well from this distance especially with his dark fringe covering his forehead obstructing his eyes from view.

The guy, Coin, nods at you.

"At first I thought it was a lost cause, he has eighteen months left in here." Jongho states making you turn to him in concern that his cellmate wouldn't want in. If he got caught, he'd be adding years to his sentence. Jongho was already serving life but others weren't, they could lose more than they could possibly gain if they got caught. Jongho grins, "But then he found out his cousin is making a move on his girl the other day and getting out of here become his priority."

You scoff, hiding a smile as you mutter, "Men."

You return Coin's subtle nod and he immediately glances away, like he never even saw you.

"Also," Jongho shuffles through the pockets of his jacket again before he pulls out a small paper object. An origami dove. He glances to somewhere on the yard and you follow his gaze when it stops on a two toned head of hair sitting at what seems to be a usual bench for him and his cronies. "Kim?"

"Ah," You chuckle, not being able to hide a smile as your eyes fly back to your brother who seems peeved by your reaction, "He got my message."

"Y/N, being involved with that guy can't be a good idea. He's crazy." Jongho comments, frustration clear as day on his face.

"Maybe but he's your express ticket out of here." You calmly voice out, glancing at the guards room to make sure the door remained shut.

"How?"

"You ever heard of Top Flight Charters?" You ask him, shivering lightly in the cold air as you watch a group of inmates play basketball on the small makeshift court of the yard.

"Yeah." Jongho nods, confused.

"They operate flights from small air fields. Like the one ten miles from here. They're run by a shell company Kim Hongjoong owns." You explain to him, inching closer to the fence, "We get him on board there's going to be a midnight flight waiting for you the night you get outside those walls."

"You're willing to risk the entire escape on a guy you don't even know?" He hisses, hands curling around the wired fence.

You sigh, "Preparation can only take you so far, Jongho." You tell him, looking up at the Correction Officers stationed on the tower behind his back, "After that you just have to take a few leaps of faith."

Jongho chuckles in disbelief, acting as if you're not understanding the weight of the situation, "Kim is a huge leap of faith, Y/N."

You nod once again, understanding that completely, "Definitely but apart from fixing you a flight, he also runs P.I. Tell him to give you and your new roommate a job there."

"P.I....Prison Industries?" He questions and you nod, glancing over your shoulder to check the guards room once again.

Jongho stays quiet, seemingly lost in his thoughts and you give him some time as your eyes scope out the yard once again.

"Y'know, getting out of here is just the beginning." He utters, "We're gonna need money if we plan on disappearing."

Your head turns to where Park Seonghwa sits, his cat Mijoo nestled in his lap as he softly strokes her. "I'm working on it."

"They'll come for you as well, you do know that right?"

You meet his gaze straight on. "Of course I know that."

That seems to make something shift on Jongho's face, something heavy appearing in his eyes. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do this?" Your brother asks, sad expression on his face as he presses his lips together in anguish, "You're throwing away your life, everything you worked so hard for all these years."

Your eyes start to burn as you clench your jaw, anger burning your insides at his question, acting like he's not your only family. Like he didn't raise you. "I wouldn't have any of it if it wasn't for you so don't ask me stupid fucking questions. You're my brother."

Jongho seems to understand your feelings, his own eyes misting over before he nods, gaze falling down to the soft grass below his feet, seemingly giving up on talking you out of this, "So...what now? What should I do next?"

You clear your throat, "Tell Kim to hire you and your cellmate at P.I. first, he should know what for by now but if he asks anything or tries to do something to hurt you, mention 7th March of next year. He'll understand. It's the date when a witness is supposed to testify against him in court and send his entire empire crumbling down."

Jongho nods again, soaking up every word.

"You're in cell forty, right?"

After another nod, you explain to him as quickly as you can just how he'll use the bolt he stole from the bleachers.

"When you break the wall, don't do anything else. Return the toilet the way it was, screw it back on and wait." You hurriedly finish and he quickly nods in confirmation that he understood before you take a couple of steps back when you see from the corner of your eye the door of the guards room opening.

You can't even tell Jongho goodbye because you're already making your way across the gravel with your head ducked down.

But not before sparing one last glance at the yard and connecting eyes with none other than Kim Hongjoong who now stands by the fence and stares directly at you.

[ithisatanytime]

the beast set up in the temple that causes desolation, is JUDEO christianity, its the star of remphan called the star of david wrapped around the cross. six points, six triangles, six sides thus the number, and in germany in the fifteen hundreds this star was called the red shield of david, and a man descended from the serpent, descended from the nephilim, adopted this name, CHOSE IT as his family title. red sheild in german is rothschild. that star is a hexagon which is the source of the phrase hexing as in to cast a curse because these so called jews after hadrian scattered them just as christ predicted, spent their time in exile as WITCES and WARLOCKS, and that is a matter of historical fact, nearly everything you think of to do with such things down to the pointy hats comes from these so called jews in the middle ages.

it is the mark of the BEAST (animal) they are descended of the serpent, not from adam, if they were they would be red in hue not yellow, as adam literally means THIS itself, that pinkish hue white people have and there is AMPLE proof of this. it is the mark of the BEAST (animal) and it IS on their arm and forehead, for like cain they are afflicted in their skin. what manner of beast did they ascend from? the star of REMPHAN which now is called the star of david, a blasphemy in itself, is found in old illustrations on the FOREHEAD of MOLECH statues, a statue of a giant part man part beast they would sacrifice infants too as part of an initiation. if that was the initiation what was the real deal? do you know me? am i insane or a fool? or am i shewing you things that once were?

6 And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them,

2 That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.

3 And the Lord said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years.

4 There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.

5 And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.

6 And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.

7 And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them.

8 But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.

9 These are the generations of Noah: Noah was a just man and perfect in his generations, and Noah walked with God.

10 And Noah begat three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth. (etc to show generations is liniage here and therefore plainly race he had no nephilim in him, hes contrasted with the state of the rest of the world who clearly got some in them whether they wanted it or not)

22 And the children struggled together within her; and she said, If it be so, why am I thus? And she went to enquire of the Lord.

23 And the Lord said unto her, Two nations are in thy womb, and two manner of people shall be separated from thy bowels; and the one people shall be stronger than the other people; and the elder shall serve the younger.

24 And when her days to be delivered were fulfilled, behold, there were twins in her womb.

25 And the first came out red, all over like an hairy garment; and they called his name Esau.

he was born red and completely covered in hair even unto the backs of his hands and smooth of his neck to the point jacob needed an animal skin on the back of his neck and hands to fool his blind father for his inheritance. what human baby is born covered head to toe in red hair?

i wont go into cain and abel as ive covered that ad nauseum. guys it IS what it REALLY IS

[fablesofkitkat]

short pov: meet cute with Mezo Shoji

genre: fluff

synopsis: you work part-time at a diner by the outskirts of Musutafu city.

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

-Taylor Swift

tags: @vtte @happilyheavenproductions

img cc: honey playlist

There's this diner by the outskirts of Musutafu city where the Wing Hero: Hawks frequents secretly. The diner could have been a one man show with only 12 seating capacity but the owner was forced to hire because a certain ash blond, red winged hero had the habit of whisking them (the owner) away. Literally. Drops by from time to time to eat, bugs the owner for an afternoon date flight. Not to be a gossip, however you just know that there's something going on between the two despite the 'just friends' they (Hawks and owner) spew. Lol. Oldies being cute and in denial.

You subbed the owner just in time after serving food for the only customer this afternoon. You make your way to the register as the owner used the back door, giggling over a joke Hawks made. You roll your eyes at the thought of their months long, tip-toeing around each other. Hope one of them confesses soon.

You peered over the customer. One you never met before. A tall, muscular young man with pale gray hair swept forwards, covering most of his face, and bent downwards at almost a right angle over his eye. He has six arms, all attached to each other by a web of skin. It reminded you of bat wings. Two of the arms are that of a regular human while the rest are thin stumps. He seemed to really like the squid ink pasta if the 4 empty plates at the side are any indication. His mouth like a turtle beak opened up delicated as he shoved the fork, the pasta twirled around it, in his mouth and you found his action adorable. Or maybe  the fact that he has human mouth instead of spikes inside his mouth (you expected the inside to be spiked like that of a turtle's).

All of a sudden, he looks in your direction meeting your eyes. He makes a grabled sound in his throat, covering his mouth in a sec with his hands, his knees bumping against the table, the plates rattled and slipped when the guys arms adeptly caught the plates before they could fall.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he raised his eyes again, and then remembers your presence. He swiftly tugs his mask up.

"Sorry, I disturbed you." You send an apologetic look in his way.

He shakes his head. "Sorry I almost dropped the plates."

"No, please." You give him your best service smile. "It was me who surprised you."

Geez, you thought. You've never seen someone who eats so much of the squid ink pasta. And he's a tall one too. He must have felt your gaze because he turned to you again, and then he stands up abruptly, his chair almost toppling over because of his sudden movement when one of his arm catches it.

"Thank you for the food!" The guy says, and then bowed to you as he exits the diner in haste.

Was it something you said? You watch his hasty retreat in bewilderment.

---

You untie your apron once you got to the counter. The owner barged in the storage room when you were doing inventory. A customer wanted to see you, maybe for a complaint. It'll be the first. Your steps halt, seeing the guy from yesterday./He gives you a small bow. One of his arm transforms to a mouth, "Let me treat you to food!

The next thing you know you're sitting across the guy with a large serving of takoyaki in front of you.

"I'm sorry for running out in a hurry yesterday. I'm sure it was a shock to you seeing my bare face like that. No one else was there that day, and I couldn't help myself but just eat the pasta right then and there instead of at home. I must have scared you. So please treat this as my apology."

"Really, no need to—" You noticed his mouth-arm drooling over the food in front of you, so you slide the plate to him. "I don't think I can finish this by myself."

There was a trade of you insisting to share while he refused only to give up. He was about to eat through his mouth-arm when you suggested for him to just eat with his mask off.  A  beat of silence. His eyes narrowed even more, just staring at you. "My name's Mezo Shoji." He tugs his mask down and you noticed his voice is lower compared to his mouth-arm. "what's yours?"

You smile at him as you give your name, reaching out to a toothpick and picked up one ball from the plate and popped it in your mouth.

"You work here from time to time, right?"

"What? Yesterday wasn't the first time we met? I thought you ran away 'cause I said something wrong."

"No, that's not why. I— I thought my face scared you." His eyes flicked down to the veneer table, focusing on the grains and the beveled edge. "And well, it was the first time someone stared at me that much..." Lips curled unsurely, brows scrunched in worry. His face reddening. His chin is supported by his palm as his elbow rests on the table. "...ever. So it was weird."

His eyes meet yours once more. And you couldn't help the way your whole face felt hot.

---

The following week, you freeze at the spot when you see Shoji on the screen, the news featuring U.A.'s Sports Festival. You thought he was your age but turns out, he's 4 years younger than you. You're gonna have to nip this puppy love to the bud soon.

---

AN: I was gonna write a cuddle stuff but i got nothin.

[yourgreatestinsomnia]

𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚

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ꜱᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜ [𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝]

𝚃𝚆: !𝙳𝚘𝚖𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚟𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢𝚜

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

↗Other one-shots

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You were part of the Fatui since your teenage years, and now you were a grown-up adult being 23. You dreamed to be part of the harbingers, to evolve, you wanted to be one. But to do that you had to talk to one of the current harbingers. You were searching for any of them, hoping to talk to someone not too serious or mean.

Of course, you had to find the worst one, Scaramouch. The man was known to be pretty much of a sadist and he was almost scarring you. You highly would have preferred to face Childe but a part of you was also attracted by the severe looked men. You walked toward “Balladeer” not knowing if you were anxious or confident.

— Excuse me Scaramouch? He looked down at you with a poker face I would like to know something… He didn’t respond so you did go on It’s been more than 8 years that I serve the Fatui and I wanted to know how to be upgraded as a harbinger.

The guy scanned you from head to toes. Normally you just would have to show enormous proof of strength and loyalty to be accepted as one but he was undeniably attracted therefore not by your look. Scaramouch saw an opportunity to break you, to break the way you were talking, your boldness, your optimism.

— Follow me. That’s the first thing he told you about an order. And you behaved, following him to his office in silence.

Just as you crossed the door, Scaramouch closed the door leaving the two of you all alone. You faced his desk expecting him to take place behind it but that wasn’t what he had in mind. You didn’t have the time to breathe that you were pushed over the desk, your hands firmly and tight in one of his hands.

— W-What are you doing?! No response again you couldn’t tell if it was frightening or giving the room an even more lewd atmosphere. His other hand was busy lifting your skirt letting the freezing air on your skin. He didn’t lose any time to rip the tights you were wearing making you shiver.

He let his cold palm on your buttcheeks before spanking you making you weakly moan. This moan made Scaramouch lose the little bit of patience he had left. He slid your panty to the side admiring your already wet core.

You heard a sound of unzipping before he pushes himself into you. He didn’t let you the time to adjust to his size that he was already pounding into you like hell, relieving all his frustration. You were a moaning mess till you remembered that he didn’t lock the door at all anyone could enter. He didn’t care if anyone saw you both in such a situation. He finally founded his new stress-relieving toy. But still, you couldn’t help but moan his name or anything.

— Shut up. He said smacking your ass. You tried to hold them but sometimes they slipped out involuntary so he smacked you again and again.

He didn’t even warn you that he was releasing himself in you, white painting your walls while he was groaning. He was literally breeding you and it was lying if you told that you didn’t like that. Still, he had left you hungry for more but he let loose on the grip on your hands.

— But a-and me?

— Up and turn around. He gave you the time to get back up. Your face was totally red while you were in front of him.

— On your knees now. Since the start, he was just ordering you and you were like a good little dog doing what he wanted. He put his feet on your shoulder taking your head with one of his hands. Open wide and suck. You just had the time to open your mouth wide open that he put his whole length into you till your throw almost making you choke.

At the same time, you were rubbing your tights together still wanting to orgasm. He put his hand on the back of your head making you go faster and deeper. He holds you against his shaft before cumming in your mouth this time.

— Swallow. You did it under his intimidating eyes before he got up and sited down on his chair behind the desk. If you wanna cum better do it yourself. You rapidly got up to go and sit on him.

You fucked him into you desperately, trying to squirt. Scaramouch had no chill having you squirming around pathetically. He gripped your hips sure to leave them red before rutting in your pussy while marking you and covering you in hickeys and bites. You came on him squirting like you’ve never in your life.

He lifted you from him and put you on the desk, dressing himself back up.

— Good toy I’ll make sure you have fun as a harbinger. And he left you like that, half-naked. Still recovering from your session.

Not long after you heard the door and someone entered seeing you miserably in this office.

— Guess you had a busy meeting with the little man. And that is how you became a harbinger.

[arbitrarycategories]

how would you rate 1-A’s costumes

alt, if you want something faster, who has the best and who has the worst

okay this was GOING to be a long post with images, but I was harshly reminded of tumblr's image limit so now it will be long post without images!

link to reference picture used

TOP COSTUME

Ingenium II - This costume has everything! It serves as a recognizable hero brand costume, it protects the wearer (from toes to head!), and it looks good! Ingenium II definitely asked for advice from Ingenium I, or else I suspect this costume would have only served the second point.

Froppy - Her costume has everything but a helmet! It definitely makes me think of both superheroes and deep sea divers, which I think is a neat effect! This is a hero you can trust, with a costume that serves it's purpose well!

Cellophane - This costume is super cool! It is very evocative of what his quirk is, which is great for a limelight hero! Also, it has a helmet! He doesn't have any gloves or arm protection, and his costume seems to be made of fabric (is there kevlar built in? is the boy protected?), but overall this costume rocks!

Red Riot - This man is ALL BRANDING, all the time! Lucky Mister Hardening Quirk doesn't have to worry about any safety concerns, so all his costume has to do is be stylish and show that he's a hero! The big R on the belt buckle announces who he is, and the shaggy chic Manly look is VERY cool! I don't know what the face harness is for except looking neat, but mission accomplished! This costume is great!

I Can't Stop Twinkling - A literal knight in shining armor! The only protection he's missing is a helmet, and he's definitely a hero! When this guy comes onto the scene, I feel safe! Also, his suit has internal mechanics that let him shoot his laser from places other than his navel, which is neat! However, his glasses are dumb.

Dynamight - Though he has no helmet, and his shoulders are exposed, this costume covers the rest of his skin, so it's fairly safe! The place it really earns points is in BRANDING. Also in relation to his quirk! This suit definitely lets you know that this hero EXPLODES! It has clever, built in features too, like the funnel system for his grenade gauntlets, which allow for bigger explosions! Also, a neck brace, likely to bolster his shoulders and prevent whiplash! Definitely a super cool, well-thought-out costume!

Uravity - Super cute! Has a facial visor and covers all skin except the head, so gets a good grade in Safety! However, it falls a little flat on the branding side, except for being cute. If I was told this is a space-themed costume, I'd be like! Yeah, that's a space-themed costume! If I was not told however, I would have no idea.

Deku - He has a full-body jumpsuit with extra reinforcement around his legs and arms! Also, a mouth guard! When this guy busts onto the scene, you know he's definitely a hero! ... you don't know his name or quirk, though, because this costume severely lacks BRANDING. It isn't even in fun colors. Muted green is fine, but like. buddy. Make it POP.

Tentacole - Costume covers from neck to toes! Nice color scheme, nice utility! No neat features, support items, or particularly well-done branding. Overall a good hero costume!

Sugarman - Covers from head to toe! Uses a cowl instead of a helmet, though. While a yellow bodysuit isn't the worst choice, it is kind of... boring. Villains with a vendetta are gonna tell this guy that he looks like a Wrestlemania wannabe rip-off.

Anima - Has a neat teeth/mouth shape on the chest of his costume, which alludes to his quirk! Overall, this is a very well-done, simple hero costume! I simply cannot get past the fact that he paired long sleeves with shorts.

Tailman - This is a karate uniform with a neat belt! It looks like it has circuits on it, but we haven't seen those used, or been told what they are, so it might just be a neat pattern. Definitely a solid "average" hero costume.

Pinky - Her costume isn't pink, but she is! This costume is just weird enough that I'm like, yeah, that's a hero outfit! However, it could ALSO just be a fashionista. Plus points because I'm pretty sure her boots have been modified to let her release acid from her feet and skate on it.

Tsukuyomi - This is a CLOAK. It is all quirk-function based! Edna Mode would hate it but it is near and dear to my heart. It's a lil self-based tent for Dark Shadow to hide in and recharge, and I adore it. However if I was a civilian I would think this guy is a villain. Maybe he wants to be an underground hero?

Creati - She LOOKS like a superhero! This is a girl I trust! However, the book shelf has to go. Please go digital yaomomo I am begging. Also this suit is anti-safety gear! But, again, she LOOKS like a superhero, so plus points!

Chargebolt - This is a kid out for a jog with a big bluetooth headset on. There's a granny calling the police to report an incident of public quirk usage right now. She doesn't care who Chargebolt is, stop telling her about Chargebolt, she wants this KID off of her STREET. Plus points for electric motif on the jacket.

Earphone Jack - This kid got lost on her way to a rock concert! This costume's only saving grace are the SPEAKER BOOTS, which fucking rock.

Shouto - This is a JUMPSUIT with a temperature regulating backpack. SIR. At least Jirou put some thought into hers! Shouto your only distinguishable feature is your HAIR and you didn't even try. Blue? You went with blue? It's not even the same blue as your SINGLE BLUE EYE. Awful costume I hate it. PLEASE design something cool enough to match your quirk and personality I am. I am BEGGING Shouto.

Grape Juice - Head to toe skin coverage! Support items that work with his quirk! This is a great costume except that it looks like he is wearing a diaper, so he gets minus a million points. Also if he is going for a grape theme, his secondary color should be green or wine red instead of yellow. This costume looks BAD.

Invisible Girl - Whatever safety is about runs screaming in the opposite direction. Whatever style is about went with it. Sweetheart I am asking you to grow a sense of modesty and speak to the company that made Lemillion's costume.

WORST COSTUME

[b0rista]

i just saw your connie hcs and omg IM SO IN LOVE😩💕 is it okay to request an angst fic where connie’s s/o, gets shot instead of sasha?

— us.

an alternate universe where instead of losing his best friend, connie springer loses his soulmate.

AN: we love traumatizing q-ball here <3

WARNINGS: violence, death, extreme angst. && this is unedited, oops.

as the night deepened in its severity, you were swerving atop the disarray like that of a fallen angel. no matter how inhuman it felt, your duty was inevitable, as was the cause that came alongside it. you were a soldier. you, and your family. well, they weren’t linked to you through blood, but through experience, and even sorrow. as far blood relative, you were sure that you were nearing the final remnants of your family tree.

you win some, you lose some. even through all of the heartbreak and the waste, you'd managed to gain one thing. one beautiful, perplexing thing. well, it was more of a person than it was a thing; your love, your life, your will to move on— your connie. while you'd only become an item recently, you and connie's feelings toward one another go back, and far. in all honesty, you couldn't exactly recall when it was you first started loving him. and with his feeble memory, you were sure that it went both ways. fortunately, you can't bring yourself to care all that much about the past. you were living in the now, and turbulently so.

currently, you were in the midst of a mission. an intense one, at that. while each and every one of your assignments served with severe purpose, this one in particular wasn't meant to be taken lightly. after all, this had to be your very first time off of the island. not only were you standing on unfamiliar soil, but you were also standing within the core of an established battle between two entirely seperate worlds— that fact alone was enough dangerous as it was exhilarating.

however, the said battle was soon coming to a close, and it was nearing the end of your abrupt visit at the marleyan headquarters. the assignment was meant to be brief, if not a little tightly knit. you were to fight alongside the opposing combatants, retrieve your distant comrade, eren jaeger, and retreat immediately. and while you were still a bit skeptical of the literal aircraft you'd be traveling on, it was surely something you could get used to.

standing alongside your given sector of the battlefield, you were preparing for takeoff. due to having excelled in hand to hand combat during your time as a trainee, you were put closer to the ground than the rest of your associates, much to your worried boyfriend's dismay. as always, he fretted over you. if you so pleased, you could drop him on his ass whenever you'd like. even so, it always felt as if your capabilities were underestimated.

nevertheless, this wasn't the time nor the place for you to sulk in your own bitterness. soon, you'd be home. in the mere matter of hours, you'd be back within the comfortable abode of your home, cozied up in the arms of your beloved. in the moment, that's all you could bring yourself to even think about. you were tired, you were. if anything, the fighting only drained you. you were drained, and the only one able to comfort you was halfway across the battlefield, fighting the same fight as you. once you were to rejoice on the aircraft, you would be sure to pester him for the affection you craved ever so intensely.

with that being said, a call from afar was quick to pull you out of your own head and back to reality. from across the calloused ground that you stood upon, a familiar face waved in your direction.

"y/n!" they would call, "we're boarding— it's time to go home."

at that, you wasted no time in gathering yourself. with a nod, you readied your gear, intertwining your fingertips in between the metallic leashes that resided on your hips. with a single jolt, you propell yourself forwards, releasing your gear's wires onto the nearest rooftop. the moment your feet left the ground, you headed toward the jet. alas, your work here was done.

just as your comrade had said, it was time to go home.

while the carnage beneath you served as a grim reminder of just how destructive your livelihood was, it was the thought of returning to your sweet home within the walls that urged you to look away. a fire had been lit upon your very own accord, and you despised this war. still, it was your war to fight, and with good reason. at least, that's what you told yourself.

as your team's blimp came into view, your voyage into the sky became rushed. clearly, you were aching to leave. little did you know that below the latches of your ODM gear, a tiny pair of copper hues were watching you; and with the utmost fury.

with that final clasp hooking to the aircraft's entrance, you swiftly flew into the air, inured hands grasping at the rescue ropes that fluttered against the metal exterior. the air serving a harsh breeze against your skin, you climbed to the door. however, before you could pull yourself in, a hand reached out to your aid.

"come," the voice would say, earning quite the look from you. to your immediate relief, it was the exact person you'd been meaning to see. looking down at you from within the jet was connie, his arm extended out toward you. and while you couldn't exactly see it due to the circumstances, there was a faint glimmer of consolation poured within his golden hues. thank god, you were alright.

taking hold of his hand, you allowed him to pull you up, bringing you into the craft with such a force, you'd have assumed he was angry with you. however, you knew that that wasn't the case— he was relieved, in the same way that you were. and immediately, he began checking you of any possible harm.

"how are you?" he'd ask, fingers moving to pinch at your cheeks. you only winced at the feeling, the literal life being squeezed out of your face as your boyfriend hurriedly scanned you. this was an occurrence that happened at the end of each and every expedition, much to your displeasure. "are you hurt? anything happen while we were seperated? i didn't realize it'd get so hectic, or else i would have-"

in the midst of his banter, you would only place your hands on his forearms, lowering his touch from either side of your face. gently, you would give them a squeeze, providing him with that reassurance that he desperately needed. softly, you would smile, "i'm okay. by the looks of it, most of us are. that's good."

with a sigh, connie would nod. after all, you were right. only few soldiers were injured, and from what the two of you could tell, most of them were coming home. considering the rare occurrence, you could only smile.

from the corner of your eye, you could see more and more comrades boarding the aircraft. and with time, a particularly familiar face would pull himself on board. having made himself out to be quite the leader, it brought warmth to your core to see jean return safely. the same went for your other friends, of course— sasha, mikasa, armin, and so on. at this point in time, you couldn't even classify them as friends. they were family.

seeing as though your lover was quietly waiting to reconcile with the others, you would lay a brief pat to his shoulder. "i'm gonna put up my gear," you'd say, bringing yourself up to your feet. "while i do that, you ought to thank those two for making it through."

with a nod, he would comply. as always, you were the one to nudge him in the right direction. it was your straightforwardness that balanced out connie's constant uncertainty, adding yet another reason as to why the two of you were simply perfect. without any further discussion, he would make his way over to the entrance of the jet, rejoicing with jean and sasha. as he did, you made your way to the compartment sector of the craft, stowing away your gear. after all, there wasn't any further need for it.

as you situated yourself for the trip back to paradis, you would exchange small talk with your fellow soldiers, both congratulating and thanking those who made it back alive. because truly, you were thankful. it wasn't often that you gain such a victory. though, as time went on and you'd circled your way through the plane, you found yourself headed right back to where your heart lingered.

sitting along the back of the carrier, you saw your love hooked in the middle of his fabulous trio of friends, pulling an immediate smile out of you. he was yet to see you, but you could see him. with both of his arms latched onto the other two, you could hear his quiet confession from where you stood.

"it's not very fair to the others, but you guys are special ... to me."

not wanting to spoil the three's moment, you would only watch. it was the tender silence that stitched together a memorable matter of seconds, despite the circumstances. from a fair couple of feet away, you smiled. unfortunately for you, he was able to catch it.

"and you," connie would add, quickly reaching over to grasp your hand, "you're no different."

melting into his touch, all you could do was interlock your fingers in his own, lips tipping in yet another smile. taking advantage of the opportunity, the boy would pull you into his shared embrace, tugging you in between him and the other two. the iron outline of your uniform managed to graze jean's side, causing quite the exclamation: "ouch, jackasses. don't go for the hug when you're covered head-to-toe in metal."

of course, you would only ignore the brunette's antics, further sinking into the heavenly embrace of your lover. with your cheek pressed against his chest and his fingers tracing along the locks of your hair, you immediately felt at ease. this was home.

"now, now," sasha would coo, adjusting her ponytail, "now isn't the time to overflow the aircraft in your PDA, lovebirds. when do we get to eat?"

pulling your head from connie's chest, you would let out a chuckle, "not until we land, sasha. you do realize we're in the air, right?"

"ah," the girl would sigh, sheepishly moving to scratch the back of her neck. adjusting yourselves, the bunch of you moved to your feet, "i suppose i haven't quite adjusted just yet. just three years ago, we relied on our horses for everything."

"yeah," jean would add, "somehow, it feels like that was just yesterday."

now that you were all situated, the four of you shifted further towards the rest of your team, who were all dancing and shouting in celebration. you hadn't even realized how elated everyone was, having been so focused on the others. out of everyone boarded the ship, it was those who were apart of the 104th that had witnessed the most. with that in mind, acts of celebration were more mild than anything else. while you were glad, you were glad quietly.

still, something felt off. somebody was missing.

just as you were about to make a comment regarding the missing member of the squadron, a quick remark from sasha caught your attention.

"did you hear a sound just now?"

while the other two dismissed the thought, it was you that took it into a much more thorough consideration. compared to anyone else, sasha's sense of hearing was impeccable. while the others may have failed to realize it, she heard something. and with her senses mixed with your paranoia, you were quick to take the remark into account. out of instinct, you watched the door. the door was open, and one of your comrades from below remained missing. the door was open, and sasha heard something. the door was open, and it was vacant of any sort of movement.

the door was open, and someone slipped through.

a miniature figure with a barreled weapon pounced through the doorway and onto the aircraft, and at the sight of a single finger latched onto the trigger, your heart itself dropped. before anyone else had the chance to react, you did. seeing as though the muzzle was aiming toward the center of the flood, you were quick to lunge sideways, pushing whoever it was that stood before the armed figure out of the way. as you flushed whatever will you had to live into the force of your push, sasha simply looked at you in horror— the horror of having to survive, simply due to your own accord.

it was quick. it was immediate, the single bullet, plunging directly into your chest. it was quick to enter you, and it was just as quick to warp you of your senses completely. while you saw that you were falling, you couldn't feel the impact of the wooden floor beating into your back. you couldn't feel it. you felt nothing.

and while you felt nothing, connie felt everything. his entire universe, crumbling apart before him.

in a blend of absolute horror, you could see from your hindsight as he rushed to your side, palms immediately moving to cup your face. moving your blurred gaze towards him, he would shout at you. he would shout, but it was all unintelligible.

"no, no, no," he would mutter, fiercely shaking his head. you were in an absolute daze, and he couldn't sense what you were feeling. hell arose in the back, and your attackers were being mercilessly beaten into defeat. your friends, however, didn't leave your side.

tears brimming in her eyes, sasha would rush to get some sort of a bandage for your wound, which was bleeding profusely. before anyone could process anything, you were laying in a pool of blood, the crimson flow staining your uniform.

"goddammit— HURRY!" your lover would scream, eyes wide. your head lay in his lap, and his fingers tenderly graze the sides of your cheeks in a loving, desperate manner. soon enough, he would feel the raw set of tears begin to well at the corners of his eyes, too. this wasn't happening, this couldn't happen. not to you. dear god, not to you.

"look at me, y/n." he would say, to which you tried your absolute hardest to oblige. you tried, but as your life itself began to drain, you only struggled.

"you can't leave, baby. you can't go, not yet. not after everything we've been through, everything we've fought for! it's always been us, it's always been you. look at me!"

however, you couldn't look. no, you couldn't do anything. instead, you could use whatever strength you held, and mutter the very last of your words: "us."

it's always been us.

with that, your blood went cold. and as your eyes closed, and your skin paled, a blood curdling scream begging you to stay filled the air around you.

[mandalorewhore]

Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

Cis-Female Reader Insert/ Din Djarin

Gif by @themandaloriandaily

Thank u to @cptnbvcks, @whenimaunicorn, and of course @no-droids for the inspiration and your superior writing skills, whenever i was stuck on a portion i would reread all of u guy’s works and feel inspired again

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Breath Play, Deep Throating, Masturbation, Pining, Depictions Of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 11k AO3 LINK

Summary: AU where Din Djarin stays with the mercenary group owned by Ranzar Malk. Takes place a few years before Din is contracted for Grogu's bounty. You're a merc trying to make a name for yourself in the group when circumstances end up having you run away with Din. You become his hunting partner in order to support yourself but you cant help falling in love with him, even as trained killers chase you across the galaxy.

FULL FIC:

As a mercenary, you wouldn’t consider yourself an overly sensitive person. 

Maker knows you wouldn’t have lasted a week in the job if you couldn’t handle your emotions. Although you don’t consider yourself entirely void of empathy, having a sense of detachment is useful when your waking hours are spent committing crimes throughout the galaxy.

          So why the fuck are you so jealous right now?

          The obscene moans and harsh slapping that echoes throughout the hangar shouldn’t inspire a larger reaction than disgust as you dutifully continue to repair the blaster marks on one of the rogue-class starfighters. Luckily, it seems that most of your immediate associates have ran off into the deeper areas of the bay to toll your last mission.

Excluding three members, you guess.

          Thank the fucking Maker Migs isn’t here You think bitterly, willing the sparks to fly higher and machine rumble louder as you carefully manipulate your buffing laser on the metal surface. His snarky attitude certainly wouldn’t lessen your misery as you try to drown out the sounds of sex. Raunchy words hiss, bouncing off the metal walls, before finding your feet and slithering up your limbs with a foulness that chokes you. Controlling the hot spinning laser seems to stoke your inner seething more than it distracts you. 

“Mando! Stars, keep-fuck- keep doing that,” you hear Xi’an echoing. Fucking Xi’an. She knows what she’s doing to you. The cruel Twi’lek is far too observant to not know that she is practically comm-station broadcasting her sexual exploits to the entire crew, and with that sheer volume, might as well the entire galaxy. You truly wouldn’t care about her sex life if it wasn’t blatantly obvious that Xi’an was doing this to mock you. You know this is meant for your ears only, a repeat of every other time you’ve found yourself stuck with this chore.  

Even if she wasn’t directly rubbing the fact that she was fucking the Mandalorian in your face, you don’t doubt that she would find a way to taunt your nonexistent sex life just for the fun of it. Another salacious moan echoes in the bay causing you to cringe and slightly jerk the repair tool in frustration.

Fuck, why did it have to be Mando? Aren’t there enough people on this kriffing space station to warm her bed? And how is he being so quiet right now? After a second you remember that’s a stupid question, considering he is probably the quietest person you’ve ever met.

His reservation serves to intimidate your targets, all the while unintentionally stoking that warmth in your belly when you are near him. His all-encompassing presence when he enters a room strikes fear in the hearts of the opposition, meanwhile, you are secretly pressing your thighs together in desire, enjoying the spectacle?.

 You’ve found yourself reveling in the few jobs where Ran’s strategy has you in a decoy-role, weaponizing your feminine charm to lull your target into a false sense of power. The muscle composing of Burg and Mando make quick work of those men once they're thoroughly wrapped up in your wiles. Despite being placed together for jobs on several occasions you’ve never actually had a real conversation with him. 

You’re too scared to talk to him, a near-silent man covered head to toe in Beskar, but you make money killing people and robbing gangs every week. It would be funnier if that purple freak wasn’t so vile. You don’t even know how to casually approach him.. Nice job killing those guys while I manipulated them into trying to fuck me! I’m pretty good with a gun, too. Maker, it’s so ridiculous that you don’t even bother with trying to figure it out. Other fantasies are easier to picture, such as the thought of him strolling across the room to slot himself in-between your spread legs, directing that intensity into your willing, aching body.

  This infuriating crush is why you suppose that your envy wouldn’t be as biting if you caught some sort of noise from the man during these displays of exhibitionism. It would give you something to repeat in your mind while you stow away in the late hours of the night seeking your own release. You guess the inability to hear him is proof of how far Xi’an is pushing her volume. It’s all just to piss you off. 

“Uhg, how miserable..” You mutter to yourself, allowing a little moment of self-indulgent angst. Typically, you wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow like a petulant teen seeing as you’re a literal fucking criminal. 

I’m supposed to be a hardass, dammit you think, spirits low as repairs wrap up far too swiftly. You swear you’ll buff right through every layer in the ship if you keep procrastinating on finishing your job and wandering into the tucked away fresher for a shower. Wandering past….them.

Wherever they are choosing to fuck can’t be that far considering the slap of skin on skin is already fucking loud enough. The sounds seem to be emanating from a vent not too high up the wall, you deduce it connects to one of the bunk rooms not too far from the landing pad you’re working next to. It really is fucking loud with all these metal surfaces to echo off of. Making your way to your small bunk might cause you to go deaf and if the last thing you ever hear is Xi’an wailing as she rubs in the fact that you aren’t fucking Mando, well, you might just take this spinning laser to your head. Unfortunately, at this point, the exterior of the gunship couldn’t possibly get more pristine.

Sighing in defeat, you push up from your crouching position on the metal floor and start to assemble your tools for clean-up while the sounds of Twi’lek pleasure predictably pick up  in volume.

“Fuck, fuck-Ah I’m close, I-I’m going to-“ A literal howl pierces the air as your gut twists with discomfort. Fuck, this is so awkward... and like, weird? Does he consent to this? Does he like that we can hear it? Maker.. Pushing that thought out of your mind you start to jog to your goal of the darkened hall that leads to the station fresher, still so wrapped up in jealousy that you almost miss the rough modulated growl accompanying the scream.

 O-oh.

Oh shit. Was that Mando….Moaning?

The swirling jealousy is suddenly overtaken by a- stars- painful heat, so debilitating that you stumble and almost double over with an intensity that shoots through your groin. Okay well, now you feel like an actual pervert. This display of eroticism was engineered by Xi’an to make you uncomfortable, not so painfully turned on that it’s dizzying. You vaguely register a growing slickness between your legs as you hurry along the cold hallway, desperate to drench yourself in icy water and pretend to forget the sound of Mando moaning.

Shit, Maker, was he cumming? Was that what he sounds like when-- no stopstopnope. Don’t think about that. Your inner monologue is running amuck as you desperately try to block it out. This feels kinda gross, as if you’re a greasy peeping tom spying on Mando’s private endeavors even though this whole situation was shoved in your face to make you ache in countless, longing ways.

That deep growl repeats in your mind as you hum nonsensically under your breath, tapping your skull as if you can knock the sound out of your consciousness despite being well aware that you will go to your fucking grave with every detail. The top of your inner thighs is so embarrassingly slick that you have to resist waddling along the corridor to the showers. Just as you are about to round the first corner, one of the side bunker doors slides halfway opens with a whoosh. The smirking Twi’lek saunters out like the loth-cat who got the cream.

I suppose she did get the cream... Your split-second of sour mirth is further spoiled as Xi’an slides the rest of the door open revealing the gleam of silver beskar and red steel as the ever still Mandalorian adjusting his…thigh armor. You spy a large vent at the junction between wall and ceiling, confirming your earlier suspicions that she chose this location on purpose. Quickly glancing between Mando and Xi’an, your face uncontrollably floods with fire when her giggles pierce the air. You register his helmet tilting toward you right as Xi’an’s tongue slowly extends to liiiick her fingers, any curiosity at his gesture burning away in revulsion.

What does she get out of making everyone uncomfortable? You think to yourself, wanting to squirm away from the obscenity but resolving to hold your ground.

“Xi’an,” You greet the two shortly, hands linked behind your back. “Mando.”  He nods.

“Sorry,” Xi’an offers in a voice devoid of guilt. “Were we being too loud? I would never want to distract you from your… projects.” Her taunting smile curls so widely that it is almost disturbing. “What would the team do without our junior mechanic!”

Her cackle rings through the suddenly freezing hall as you spin on your heel and try to not look like you’re fleeing. Red is tinting the edges of your vision from her insult while tears threaten to flood your eyes out of embarrassment.

You need to get to that shower quickly.

    ----------------

  As the tepid shower rains down on your flushed body, you childishly wonder if you should run away. Or rather, if you could run away considering you technically don’t own any of the ships currently residing in the hangar bay. Although you technically have free reign to pilot most of the spaceships available, that freedom entirely applies to transportation between merc assignments . The thought of running away from your current acquaintances on a stolen ship is not appealing. In fact, the only crew member owning a personal vessel happens to be Mando, his Razer Crest gunship was often subject to your mechanic skills.

Mando, who always offered a genuine “Thank you.” after you’d spend hours touching up the vessel’s damage procured from the rare missions he lent its flight to. Mando, the person who you are presently trying to not think about while naked and still trembling with emotion.

Your sillier fantasies would sometimes involve stealing away in his gunship, hand pressed over his chest and leg thrown across his lower body like a romance novel while he skillfully pilots the ship away. Kriff, you felt like a soft girl whenever you run this scenario through your mind, so cliché and campy that you cringe at yourself. Thus, this particular dive into your consciousness was reserved for special moments such as lying in bed after a strenuous job, or after long days spent working through that junkyard of hangar bay trying to strong-arm your way into earning worth in the company. Private moments where you are finally comfortable letting your guard down to drift aimlessly throughout maladaptive daydreams.

Not so soft fantasies exist in your mind as well. Once again that modulated groan springs to the forefront of your mind causing your clit to throb softly. The conflicting feelings of embarrassment, rage, and painful arousal serves to create an energizing cocktail that goes straight to your pussy.

‘Fuck it,” You whisper breathily to yourself, “Nows as good a time as ever..” your fingers are trailing down your stomach as you say the words out loud. You adjust the water to be slightly warmer and sigh as the comfortable heat compliments your tickling fingers. If only you could replace your hands with the significantly larger leather-clad ones of a certain bounty hunter. The thought spikes your arousal as you lightly brush against your mound, choosing to tease yourself as images flash through your mind. The armor-clad Mandalorian gripping the back of your neck to you press facedown on the floor of his ship and take his cock. Or your legs spread wide across his hips, crushing your pussy on his groin while he’s seated in the pilot seat of his ship.

Your fingers dip slightly into your slick hole then drag up to your clit causing you to bite your free palm and hold back a moan. Eyelids heavy, you give in to the fantasies and begin to earnestly rub at your clit.

“Mmf Maker, f-fuck..”, you whine into your hand at the thought of him breaking your pussy open. You just know he fucks hard -- it’s a given that the crazy Twi’lek would be one for rougher sexual affairs. Someone who spends nearly every moment of life feeling nothing but the weight of fabric and beskar on their skin must be so fucking touch starved. You bet the opportunities he’s had to feel a tight cunt wrapped around his length would completely overwhelm his restraint. Muffled moans begin to fill the fresher as your fingers speed up between your legs, head hanging forward into the metal wall and water dripping off your brows.

Your eyes flutter shut as you pull your hand from your lips to tug at your hardened nipple, other hand still between your legs, imagining a dark visor being trained on your soaking wet, writhing body. The image sends a shooting pleasure up your spine as you spin around and press your back to the wall. Imagining his dark form watching you from the other side of the gathering steam, you open your thighs and spread your labia apart, sighing at the wet sound it makes. “Like what you see, hunter..?” you whisper into the empty room wishing he would find you in this shower.

Removing your fingers from your nipple you reach down to your crotch and greedily fill yourself with two fingers, pumping in and out as your other hand works at your swollen clit. The volume of your now unmuffled pleasure is likely overheard by anyone on this section of the station, but you can't find it in yourself to give a shit. If Xi’an can screech out her orgasms at any given opportunity to fuck with you then let them hear.

Let him hear.

Your imagination runs rampant at the notion that he could hunt down your gasps and take care of you himself, causing you to gasp louder. S-shit people can hear you, you just won't say his name out loud, it's fine, it's f-fine- The thought of him discovering you here is so hot that it's blinding, and suddenly your orgasm is rushing up to crush you entirely.

Your lower half is locked tight then suddenly your knees buckle and you’re cumming hard. Your choked gasps cutting through the steamy shower like blaster fire as you peak higher, uncontrollably calling out for the Mandalorian while white-hot pleasure wrings you dry. Let him hear you crying for him as you gush around your fingers, convulsing in bliss.

     In the shuddering aftershocks, you don’t hear the uncharacteristically loud padding of leather boots retreating away from the fresher door.

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

    You’re good at your job. You wouldn’t be doing it if you truly couldn’t handle the ordeal of being a mercenary. The whole point of the job is to take care of the dirty work, so those far disconnected wouldn’t have to dwell on their choices too hard. You’re used to not asking questions, motivated by credits and reputation alone. But in moments like these, a job going this awry… well, you just feel like pure shit. This hit was way too easy and far too filthy even for your career mostly consisting of professional filth. It was so glaringly obvious that even if your associate’s numbers were sliced in half, you would still sweep the ground with your winnings.

And what meager earnings they are.

The crew’s assignment this round was to hit a casino shipment just outside the outer rim planet of Cantonica. Due to the Razer Crest’s ability to fly under the radar of both Imperial and New republic records, Ran rudely allotted that Mando should allow his ship’s use for crew transport. You’re surprised he agreed at all, but perhaps the prospect of gain motivated him. His motivations are rarely clear to you. You’re guessing the price of a wealthy city’s supply sounded frankly too tempting for everyone involved; Ran was practically salivating over the drawing board for this particular errand. One would imagine a hull stacked to the top with credits and the finest luxuries for Canto Blight’s flashy tourists. It is Catonica’s main attraction after all.

But once the team’s resident crime droid, Zero, breached the cargo ship's record, the whole team is  informed that the cargo-freighter ship only contains “organics”.

Slaves.

          In the end, Migs remarked that there may still be something of worth to obtain from this job, and thus the plan morphed into an robbery on the surface once the cargo landed at its isolated dock. You reluctantly agreed to continue while Mando shortly nodded, both of you last to assent on this change in direction.

----------------   

Some hours later you’re crouching in a derelict warehouse while the lessening blaster fire showers spark like fireworks across your corneas. The fighting between your crew and the dockyard guards has almost died down at this point and you take the moment to catch your breath behind a large stack of cargo boxes.

          “Holy stars,” you gasp out, head falling between your knees as a wave of guilt consumes you momentarily. This job fucking blows. It’s so much easier robbing Imps and gangs because they are inherently bad fucking people. Robbing a group of slaves is the lowest point you think you have ever hit in your life. This is so wrong, this is so so wrong, they don’t even have ownership of their own lives and here your crew of fucking mercenaries swoops in with a vengeance over being cheated out of something that we didn’t own in the first place.

The last straw was when you witnessed a young bedraggled woman fearfully tossing the Twi’lek sibling, Qin, a small wooden necklace, the last possession from her life before slavery. You ended up turning tail and running deeper into the dock while Qin needlessly hissed at her just to enjoy her terror. You’re sure he’ll just toss the thing after the job is over.

“I never would’ve agreed to this…” You breathe out shakily to the empty air, hollowness swallowing your ability to compartmentalize your humanity from the nature of this work. You are still fighting the impulse to give in to that deep pit of sorrow when a large shadow makes you start and grip your blaster before relaxing in recognition at the chrome gleam.

          “Oh, hey, Mando,” Smiling tightly in his presence as he approaches silently, his helmet tilted down at your crouched form. His gaze makes you straighten up quickly, realizing that you probably shouldn’t look so stricken in front of your crime associate. Gotta look tough, can’t let people think you’re too soft for this work. Man, didn’t he help start the company? That thought motivates you further to stand up and face him head-on.

 “Not what we expected huh? Certainly no Canto luxury here..” you quietly murmur to his cheek groove.

If you looked directly where his eyes might be he would likely catch the sparkle of moisture threatening to pool at your bottom lashes.

          “No,” he breathes shortly through the modulator. “Not this.” Something in his voice inspires the bravery to glance at his T-shaped visor. Compared to his usual tone of speech he almost sounds …stricken right now. Distraught by this display of debauchery your crewmates have shown the slaves and few people manning the dock. It's not noticeable unless you’ve been around him enough to read him on some level but deep down you know he feels the same way. You try to recall him taking part in the violent takeover and realize he was barely present for the ordeal. Aside from the initial violence that broke out during landing he hardly did anything and was noticeably absent once the slaves were targeted. In the back of your mind, you pray that he won't be reprimanded for the lack of effort. The thought is ridiculous but you’re scared anyway.

Stars, this is all too much, your head is swirling with grief and stress as your heart rate picks up and suddenly you are so desperate for humanity, for empathy  that you lose your filter and-

          “Couldn’t stomach it either?” You blurt out to him, desperately hoping he understands and will not judge your deep sorrow for the enslaved people affected by this brutal takedown. Your mind catches up in panic half a second later when Mando doesn’t immediately respond. Did you just seek sensitivity from the Mandalorian? Fuck. Wait. That sounded like an insult too. Fuck um-

“Ah, um I-I mean. I just mean I don’t remember you firing on anyone helpless and I um- I didn’t either, I didn’t fire my blaster at all to be honest I-Fuck- I hid. They’re just slaves not Imps, Mando. The guards were taken out in seconds and-” You hiccup and stutter as tears gather at the edges of your eyes and begin to fall. You feel so overwhelmed with anxiety and guilt that all of a sudden you forgot about his open show of emotion.

Pull it together, don't do this in front of the Mandalorian. He is the very picture of a stoic, hardened mercenary and now you’re kriffing crying in front of him? It briefly registers that this is the first time you’ve ever spoken one on one with him, the both of you were almost always alone or with members of Ran’s party during time off. You internally curse your existence for thinking you could tearfully word vomit in front of a fucking bounty hunter and get comforted by him. Your knowledge of Mandalorians is limited, despite knowing one, yet you think the point of his whole creed about giving up your identity and giving yourself to war. Why the fuck did you cry in front of a damn Manodlorian? You’re just starting to unfreeze from your panic-stricken muscles to dab at your cheeks when a gloved hand swiftly brushes just below your eye to catch a tear.

          ‘This wouldn’t have happened if that Droid could do his job,” You glance up at him in shock at his biting tone juxtaposed with the gentle gesture, but he’s already turning away, voice rotating with his visor. “The worst is over now that the shooting stopped. Let’s round up the others.”

          He pauses with his back turned and you take that moment to compose yourself. You’ve only shed a few tears so your eyes can’t be that red.

“O-okay.. .” You reply, trying to inject your usual backbone into the tone of your response before moving to follow him around the piled boxes and regroup. Staring into your warped reflection in the back of his helmet you try to find the words to thank him but they get lost in the ghosts of today.

          Your mind is still swirling but the clouds of despair have mostly cleared away. You know you don’t have time to dwell on your short interaction yet your mind is fully absorbed in his every move, both present and past. Coming from anyone else his reaction would seem shitty and dismissive but coming from Mando... well, you're honestly shocked. Those two sentences were fairly long for someone usually so silent. And what about his reaction to the way this job has gone? Him brushing away your tears?

You are gazing down at your feet deep in thought when you suddenly bonk into the back of Mandos broad back, wacking your forehead on the base of his helmet.

          “Oww.” You groan lightly, rubbing your forehead and stepping to the right of his body, “Why’d you stop so sudde-'' It is then when you notice the muffled whimpering coming from the clearing in front of the both of you. A crimson pool of blood laps at the Mandalorian’s boots, its kiss staining the leather a deep black.

Now you are truly sickened, bile rising in your throat as a ragged gasp leaves your mouth.

          “Why…? How can you..”

          “Xi’an!”

          Your choked whisper leaves your lips at the same moment the Mandalorian fucking barks the Twi’leks name.

A crumpled form adjacent to her body is the source of the whimpering and bloodshed, their contorted limbs looking less than human as muscles strain against metal binders. Xi’an’s triangular blades are dripping in her grip as she spins on her toes like a dancer and flounces childishly in the direction of your frozen form. Tearing your gaze away from the shell of a human you meet her eyes with open hostility. She stops several yards away from you.

          ‘Aha! So good to see you two. Isn’t this job sooo disappointing?” She calls out to the two of you casually. When no one responds her body deflates as she twists her knee inward and clutches one arm peevishly. Performative. “What? No hello? I could’ve died today!” She cackles at the notion.

          Mando is a statue at your side. You can feel the rage radiate in waves off his body like a heater and you wonder what's going to happen if Xi’an pushes this further. Your heightened stress from moments before is vibrating throughout your nervous system, compelling you to step forward and speak up.

          “Xi’an… this-this is completely unnecessary. The only thing required to complete our hit was taking out guards! What the fuc- and they were clearly incapacitated by you before you decided to take your blade to their skin!” Okay, that came out a little shakier than intended, but it feels like a disservice to hide your revulsion for her actions with the victim lying right there. “You could’ve just hit em’ in the skull with a blaster shot if you needed them out of your way!”

          “Guards? Oh, I already took them out. This-” Xi’an punctuates the word a kick into the person’s stomach causing them to groan weakly, “Well, this is just an Organic as Zero would put it.” Organic? Fucking- You jump slightly and glance to your left when the Mandorlorian makes a shocked exclamation at her words. Maker, you’re so sickened you forgot he was with you.

“You mean a Slave? From the shipment?” He hisses the question through his teeth. You can’t see his face but you can hear the tension in his jaw, his body still a ridged form at your side. Xi’an pokes her tongue out and runs it lightly over the pointed edge of her teeth while she considers her response. She seems to be measuring her response to Mando with a little more care than she bothered with while speaking to you. You’re guessing that she cares far more about his perception of her than your personal attitude regarding the Twi’lek. Wouldn’t want to piss off her fuck buddy.

“Answer me!” He snaps when her response takes a millisecond too long. Your purple associate sighs, exasperated now.

“Yes a slave,” she hisses, drawing out the word in contempt, “Really I’m doing him a favor. From the looks of him, he was picked up on Tatooine. I doubt he even had a family to mourn him back on that shitty dustball of a planet-” Her eyes suddenly bulge as she clamps her mouth shut, gaze fixed on the armored man betraying a twinkle of... fear?

Slowly, you turn to him. The pit in your stomach is somehow weighing heavier than ever when you take in his body language. If you thought he was emanating white-hot rage before Xi’an’s response then you don’t even have words for how he holds himself now. You take a half step back in trepidation as the air around you seems to warp around the Mandalorian’s gravitational pull.

“A foundling?” His tone is unexpectedly quiet for someone who is manipulating the very atmosphere of this desert planet. Time seems to freeze. Shadows are ebbing at the edge of your vision and your head feels like it is going to pop in the pressure. You want to do something, anything, to relieve the pressing wall closing in on the three of you, to somehow end this interaction so that you can crawl in on yourself and bury the ghosts in the back of your mind. Fuck, your mouth is so dry, heart palpitating with a painful squeeze. Shit, fuck, what do you do? What did he mean by that question and why is Xi’an freaking out? You’re still fixated on the gleam of his helmet, rushing to find appropriate words when-

A flash of red explodes in your peripheral-vision, sparks seeming to fly 20 feet in the air. The words die in your throat in shock.

Did he? Did he shoot her? You barely saw him move yet as your mind races to catch up on this turn of events, you realize his blaster is drawn low on his hip, while the rest of him hasn't shifted an inch. The pressure cooker disappears in a sweeping wave of silence.

You swallow and turn awkwardly back to Xi’an. Oh.

He shot the slave.

Xi’an is just as stiff as you, her arms slightly raised as if she instinctively tried to ward off the blaster fire before realizing its trajectory. You are still processing his actions when a gloved hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you swiftly as he runs from the scene, tossing a flash bomb behind the both of you.

Without question, you run with him.

  ----------------

  “Hey!” Within minutes your chest is burning from keeping up with Mando’s relentless pace. You’re fit from your job but he's twice as big as you and probably more than twice as fast. You get the feeling that he's moving slower than usual so you aren’t left behind. Struggling to control your breathing, you attempt to make sense of the jumbled thoughts by wheezing out, “M-Mando what are we doing?”

“Running.”

“Okay, fucking obviously!”

“To the Crest.” He clarifies just as shortly. Okay. Okay, once you reach his ship maybe you’ll get more answers. Right now, both of your priorities align with getting the fuck away from Xi’an before her vision returns and she comes after the both of you. But you can’t yet push some of the recent events to the side.

“You shot him.” You mean to phrase it like a question but it comes out more accusatory than intended with how breathless you are. “The slave you shot-“

“I ended his suffering.”

Oh. That makes sense, even if it makes your chest contract in duress you recognize his killing the slave came from a place of empathy. What exactly did he say right before drawing his blaster, something about… foundlings? You don’t know the term exactly but contextually you can guess it means orphan or alone. Fuck, this is so bad. Just what are you going to tell everyone? He may not have directed his shot at the Twi’lek but he temporarily blinded her. That still counts as an attack on a member of the team. Your chest is burning unbearably now so you slap at Mando’s vambrance to signal your need for a break. He drags you gasping around a corner into the shadowy edge of the warehouse.

“Listen, hey, look at me.” His large hand reaches out to gently grip the side of your face, warm against your skin and smelling sharply of blaster residue. Looking into his visor you realize your cheeks are damp again as hysterical hiccups threaten to make themselves known. “We are going to run. You don’t have to come with me of course but I unintentionally put you in the position of being complicit by attacking Xi’an. That-that wasn’t the plan… but I was leaving the company anyway”

His chest suddenly deflates as he rids it of air.

You realize you were holding your breath at the same time as him as you gasp out, before rubbing at your cheeks and asking dumbly, “Y-you were… leaving the company? Is Ran pissed?”

Stupid question. Of course, he’d be pissed at losing the one Mandalorian in the group. Mandos' presence gave him cred. 

“Ran doesn’t know.”

“Ran doesn’t… what? When was this happening then?”

Mando’s visor turns away from your gaze and looks off into the middle distance. His gloved hand on your face is still gripping gently to lock you in place. “Today. That’s the only reason why I agreed to let him use the Crest for this job.”

He shakes his helmet slightly and turns back to your face, the metal covering his face becoming your main focal point while the room spins. You can't see his features, and never would, yet you feel as if you are looking directly into his eyes. Your body has impeccable timing when you feel your cheeks heat blushing.

However, your senses return in an instant when a familiar piercing howl echoes off the walls. The glove drops and he is gripping your shoulders,

“Can you run again?”

Adrenaline springs your limbs into action as you spin around, catching his wrist and pulling, roles reversed as you lead him in the direction of his ship.

Dust is billowing from below whenever your feet meet the ground. The steps sound like thunder in your ears as paranoia begins to worm its way into the forefront of your senses, every corner, every shadow, every blindspot could be hiding one of your former partners. Xi’an is an excellent assassin; time and time again her main skill has proven to be stealth, targets dropping dead expectedly. The Crest isn’t very far thankfully. It sits right on the back of the targeted freighter since Zero requires physical contact to hack the other ship systems for paths. Oooohh shit you forgot about the droid- 

“Mando, Zero’s in there.” You puff out shortly in between breaths. 

“Fuck that droid. I’ll take care of him, just back me up.” You both slide around a corner as he responds, bringing the two ships into your field of view. You are facing the rear end of the larger vessel, thankfully leaving the coast clear as far as you can tell. Mando’s helmet scans the area then nods, indicating the go-ahead with his fingers before running ahead of you. You follow him, casting fervent glances behind you for any signs of life. You reach the ship a millisecond after he does, his vambrance held high to lower the rear ramp. As the ramp begins to lower he grips your shoulders and spins you around dizzily.

“Stay right outside here. The second I enter the crest I’m dropping the Droid. I’ll call you once it’s safe.” You gulp quickly and nod in assent right before he leaps into the opening of the ship.

Seconds pass. 

Your nerves are plucking way more than they normally would.. You never particularly liked Zero, but the sudden turn of taking out your ex-allies is making you high strung and nervous. Zero’s voice cuts through the silence, making you jump.

“Mandolarian, you are back early. Were the prospects plentiful despite being Organics?”

“No.” You twitch when a shot echoes in the hull followed by the clash of metal on metal.

 The Mandalorian sharply calls your name springing you into action. You enter the ship immediately spying Zero’s body under the cockpit ladder, blaster wound still smoking with red-hot metal ringing the edges. Your eyes linger a little on the droid’s body, slightly leery at the death of someone who was your backup only hours ago, then you sigh and duck to get a handle on under his shoulders, dragging him to toss out the open entryway. 

Grunting with effort you direct your voice at the cockpit, “Tossing the droid! Take off when read- Shit.”

One of the droid's hip joints gets stuck on a portion of the hull wall, preventing you from moving his corpse. Something wizzes above you at the exact moment you duck down to adjust the body, right where the back of your head was a second ago. One of Xi’an’s triangle blades ricochets off the wall and slides across the floor, stopping right under your nose. Oh f-

“Fuck! Fly, fly, she's here Mando!” You lurch to the floor as the thrusters kick in, twisting your head to try and get eyes on the clearing. Through the rapidly closing ramp, you see a flash of purple skin, but before you have time to react the Crest door snaps shut. Heart thudding at what feels like a million beats per second, you try to get your bearings on the floor. Twisting sideways you suddenly find yourself face to face with Zero’s corpse, revulsion whipping through you like lightning as you scramble backward on your hands and feet.

    You can’t do this right now. 

    The last thing you want is to seem weak and needy in front of the man who just selflessly saved your life, for reasons still unknown, but you can’t do this right now. A creature of habit, you fold your neck between your legs, the same reaction you had to the violence on Cantonica. A minute, you just need a minute, a minute and then this horrible drone will go away, and you can deal with this, you’re a fucking mercenary…  the blackness swarming at the edges of your sight overtakes you all at once and you slide limply to the floor.

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

  You aren’t sure how much time has passed once you rouse. At your request, Mando tosses Zero's body before kicking into hyperdrive right about 120,000 feet in the air. You stare at its flight path until the speck disappears in the taupe shithole that is Cantonica. Feeling shaky as your adrenaline finally dips, you decide that the Crest could do with a once over before the long journey. 

After performing a quick analysis on the Crests systems it’s determined that the two of you are lucky this hunk of metal can fly. Hyperdrive operating at 67% capacity, weak communication signal if it even works half the time, plus more damage than you can currently process. If there weren’t five million different stressors weighing on you, your mechanic brain would probably explode at the current state of Mando’s ship. He probably should’ve taken it to you, or anyone else handy with tools if he wanted it to be in proper form for departure, but it makes sense that he didn’t want to draw too much attention. Hopefully, his pilot skills will compensate for the Crest’s sorry state. 

 To be fair, the whole blow-up-your-coworker-and-run-for-your-life aspect didn’t seem to be in Mando’s original plan. 

“So… where are we going?” You’re on the floor in the cockpit, back facing the passenger chair while the Mandalorian is seated pilot. After crawling under the console for a while you couldn’t bother to lift your aching muscles on the chair, resigning to scoot on your butt over to the closest object that could support you. As a result, you end up craning your neck to look up at him, his back straight in the chair. 

“My original plan was to head to Nevarro to take on a few quarries. I’m still with the guild and Karga doesn’t give a shit whether I’m running with Ran or going in alone.” You bite your lip anxiously. Oh yeah, you kinda forgot your presence threw wrench in his plan. He notices and tilts the helmet sideways at you, “You’re not in the way. I’m not concerned about you joining me, someone of your skillset is helpful to have around. I’ll introduce you to Karga so you can get on your feet.”

The compliment lifts your spirits enough to make you playful, poking at his boot with your toe, “Gee, glad I’m useful enough to keep around. All I have is my blaster and the clothes on my back, so if you drop me, I’d be  pretty fucked.” 

You giggle quietly but you know it’s the truth. All of your possessions are back on the space station, but you didn’t own too many personal artifacts, aside from some clothes and weapons. The only thing of use would’ve been your credits. You worry again at the realization, dipping your head before continuing to speak,

“Shit Mando, I don’t have any money on me. It was all back in my bunk, I don’t know how I’ll help pay for things around here unless Karga decides I can take on a quarry right away. Even then I’ll have to bring it back before I ever have a lick to my name.”

“You can make it back. I’ll split the profit from jobs that you assist me on. Cut depends on how useful you are and once you prove yourself, Karga will give you the decent pucks.” He swivels the chair and faces you, knees slightly spread as he leans forward in the chair, “Deal?”

You swallow and nod your head, mind blanking at how your head is level with the bend in his hips. You don’t think he's trying to come across as suggestive but the effect, intentional or not, invites a flutter of desire in your tummy. The Mandalorian leans back on his leather backing and sighs, the sound gentle despite the modulator warping his natural tone,

“You aren’t in my way. I swear it. If I had more time before leaving I would’ve asked you to join me anyway, you're good with your hands and always had more… compassion? Than anyone else in the company. I admire that quality.” That makes you straighten back up to meet his visor. He sounds nearly shy.

“O-oh…” You never even thought he noticed you aside from when you touched up the Razor Crest. The compliment sends warmth throughout your body, as languid as sex pollen in the near feverish effect. You don’t know how to respond at all, you’re feeling disjointed, like you may reveal too much if you don't change the subject soon. You wish you could be snappier but you’re exhausted. Maybe try for a joke?

“I g-guess you value girls good with their hands, huh. H-haha?”

Silence. Hm. 

That was the absolute worst thing you could’ve come up with. 

It didn’t meet even a single one of your simple ass goals, which entail the following:

Thank him.

Change the subject.

Not reveal how much his words make you want him to rail you.

    Wow, what the fuck- kill me. He hasn’t moved an inch, much less reacted to your shitty joke. The positioning of your bodies that you found so hot ten seconds prior is now a place you’d try anything to escape from. It’s almost comical how his height advantage serves to emphasize the disappointment in the small room. He hasn’t responded so you’re guessing he won’t bother to try. Heavy silence suffocates you to the point of desperation, you need to fill it with something right now or you swear you’ll die. 

    “I-I jus-t mean like- Well you had certain- ah- habits, you’d adhere to in your free time. Li-like um, I mean you didn’t hide much. Kinda obvious if you- listen, uh, I didn’t mean t-to say that I-I was joking around-”

“Get to the point.”

“I-” Your tummy fills with heat at his command. “Umm..” You wipe your hands on your thighs and glance down from his voice. The hours of on and off adrenaline must be majorly messing with your head. It’s kinda weird that you want him this badly after everything that went down today. Wasn’t your most recent concern something about avoiding death at the hands of a bitch you hate most in the galaxy? To be honest you can’t recall. 

The proximity of his groin is suddenly at the forefront of your mind. Again.

He slowly tilts his helmet to look at you, arms bending to settle in a relaxed position on the armrests. You are extremely aware of how you’re blatantly staring at him but your mind is slow to come up with a valid response, blankness written in the reflection on his visor. His position on the chair is mountainous, looming over your body in a way that boxes you in between the passenger seat and the Crest console. You feel like a prey animal... In a sexy way? Maybe?

Although, when he leans back into his seat, helmet still trained on your face, you are unsure if you’re actually pissing him off or not.

“Say what you mean.” 

Okay, the sexy is mixing a little with anxiety. 

“Ah- Um well, I just mean like. It’s not like you hid it from me- everyone else too. In the company. Ran’s company? ‘Cause, I- We… always overheard you and Xi’a- Her…” Fuck, your mouth is so dry that last part came out like a squeak. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling again um, I kinda thought you were doing it on purpose. With Xi’an. Making me hear when you’d...fuck her.” Cheeks blazing, you duck your head back down, which doesn’t help at all since you’re just face to face with his crotch once more. 

    “You say ‘always’...” Mando’s inflection is lost somewhere between statement and question, his tone confusing enough that you end up lifting your head from its bowed position below him. 

“Y-yes?”

“As in this was a common position you found yourself in? Did you overhear me multiple times?” Now he poses not one but two questions for you, neither of which you feel brave enough to answer steadily. You can’t deflect further at this point so you answer him with a sigh.

“No, I only heard you once. Xi’an always wanted me to hear her though. It was gross.” Mortified, you gather your legs under your body to stand up from the floor. You think the hyperdrive issue is fixed well enough to hold until Nevarro. When your hand reaches for the edge of the armrest to pull yourself up it is abruptly enveloped in warm leather. Half crouched, your arm jerks back a little in surprise at his touch. 

“I wasn’t asking about myself specifically. And I wouldn’t force you to participate in her games, had I known.”

Maker strike my ass down. Can humans die from embarrassment? You wish it were possible if it got you out of this conversation. He’s correct, he didn’t specify whether you had heard his moaning. If you weren’t nursing these stupid feelings for Mando you never would’ve given away the fact that you memorized every tantalizing second of what you overheard. Not only is this embarrassing, but you don’t want him to think you’re a sicko who wanted to eavesdrop in the first place. The clarification about his awareness of Xi'an's timing is comforting but not enough to erase what you already admitted to him. You somehow feel sweaty and bone-dry at the same time, a flush spreading over your face.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I heard you too.”

You both speak at the same second, and a beat passes before either of you process what the other said. He- what? What is he talking about? Are we having two totally different conversations right now? When did you ever fuck someone on that space station anyway… unless he means… in the fresher…

This time he is the one who breaks the silence, “You’re sorry for… overhearing me?” 

“Y-yes, I really, really, don’t want you to think I’m a creep or anything. Anything I heard was involuntary, I swear. Xi’an w-wanted to make me… Um…” You trail off shyly, sitting down again. His hand is still over yours.

“Get to the point.” His voice is filled with heat now, so low and compelling that you’d tell him anything just to keep it that way. You whisper your response, lifting your eyes to his dark visor wishing you could meet his gaze.

“She wanted to make me jealous. Over you.”

“Mm… You wanted me instead?”

“Maker, yes.”

The climate between you and the Mandalorian made a 180. Nerves dissolving like honey in tea, all at once being taken over by a hum of sexual tension while his fingers caress a warm pattern over your knuckles. Exhilaration builds within you, though in the back of your mind you are calculating the possible motives behind his advance. 

You know sometimes, after a particularly rough day, people are compelled to relieve their pent-up stress through intimacy. There’s a reason why the market of sex work thrives under wartime, terror existing constantly in a fighter’s life must be paired with the softer, inner-most comforts of knowing another living being, or they’d go mad with sorrow. Brothels made a lot of money during the last stages of the Empire’s rule from both Imps, Rebels, and neutral parties alike.

It’s not out of the ordinary for you to seek each other out right now, yet can’t help but dream that this might mean more. 

The Mandalorian’s hand currently encasing yours flips your wrist to trace the lines of your palm. Sighing you tilt your head to the side, a curtain of hair cascading across your features. His free hand reaches out to brush the strands away before he gently grips your jaw, hand large enough to press his thumb on the front of your chin while his fingers wrap lightly under your ear. 

“I heard you too, pretty girl. You called out for me in the fresher… just what were you doing in there? Describe it- please.” He speaks with such allure that you break under his voice, pressing your cheek to his palm.

    “I-I thought of you watching me while I touched my pussy. I was so wet thinking about how I want you to feel me after being under all your armor, Stars, even the wind can’t touch you Mando. I thought about how you must crave the feeling of something so soft… can I show you how soft I am?” Your free hand raises to rest gently on his knee, fingertips hesitating at the edge of his thigh piece. He is still fully suited for battle, explosives strapped to one boot and rifle across his shoulders. 

You wish so badly to help him unwind, you would never disrespect him by trying to remove his armor, but you want to help him move past the experience that was Cantonica. Mando continues to stare at you for several tense seconds before melting into your touch.

“H-helmet stays on.” He breathes out shakily, a slight tremor running through his legs as your fingers lightly explore the fabric under the edge of the piece of metal. “But the rest… the rest can come off.” 

He’s already moving to undo the magnetic connectors holding his cuirass in place so you scramble to follow his movements. The rust-colored armor on his body has complex enough attachments that you don’t really know where to begin. Your hands clamber around, mostly following his deft movements. Slowly a man of flesh and blood is revealed, and as his impenetrable exterior melts away you find the true shape of him. 

The armor serves to add a few inches of bulk on his features, enhanced proportions making out a dramatic silhouette designed to be spotted from miles away. Without it his body is still so powerful, built hard as stone and broad, hard angles melding enticingly with a hidden softness. Not hidden- you realize -it compliments him completely. The pieces fall away and you’re left with the unexplored bareness of him. He is human and warm, evidence of this betrayed in rare moments where his hands travel lightly up your arms while you work at his pauldrons, brushing through your hair here and there before finally returning to your jaw to hover in front of your lips. 

“Off.” He instructs shortly, brushing the seam of his thumb over your bottom lip. Your mouth falls open to explore him with your tongue, tasting salt, blaster residue, and a hint of the heat he holds in his body. Satisfied, you bite down gently on the glove ridge, watching as he pulls off the leather encasing his hand and drinking in the sight of golden skin as it is revealed to you inch by inch. All you’ve seen of him is one bare hand and somehow it is the sexiest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Flames lick your body, spreading from your white-hot core, energy gathering with such impassioned motions that at any second now it will burst from your skin, a reaction so immense that you could birth another galaxy.

You want to taste his skin too.

“Fuck baby-” You take his middle finger down to the knuckle, emboldened by his slurred reaction, noises startling to babble out of the bounty hunter as his stoicism falls apart under your tongue. Humming around the digit, you start to bob your head gently, eyes locked on his impassive visor while filthy, filtered noises drift through the beskar. It’s like there is no barrier at all between you, the air thrumming with a longing so great that you feel one with the man crumbling before you. If you're not careful you will fall with him. 

“Mando, Plea-se,” You stutter around him, voice shaking more than intended. “I want to f-feel more of you, let me touch you, please-” You squawk, mouth empty when he suddenly rips off the other glove, tossing it behind him before reaching down his torso to pull the hem of his trousers south. You gulp in trepidation, unable to tear your eyes away as enticing dark hair displays itself, leading to the base of his cock. He pauses, but you’re so caught up in discovering him that you don’t notice the tonal shift.

“Before I show you this-” dark words enunciated by palming his cock through the fabric, “I need to know where to put it.” 

What kind of question is that? You’re honestly bewildered, mind blank before you realize that the options are overwhelming. In his own way, he is asking you to verbalize consent, which is very much appreciated. You want him in your pussy, to work his way deep in your body and in turn, discover just how human you are... yet… You feel oddly unprepared. It’s not that you don't think you can take him, in fact you can't recall ever being this wet in your life. It’s just… after today… you want to help him unwind but you’re still not fully there. You still want to please him, but you’re not ready to let him know you that way, not until you come back to yourself. 

So in that case…

“I want you in my mouth, hunter.” 

Mando growls then grabs your wrist, guiding it over the edge of fabric and onto his throbbing length. He shudders while you process the feeling of him. He is thick, the width of his cock so wide that your middle finger and thumb are straining to meet each other. You release him from his pants then try to pull at the hem to wiggle them down his thighs. He obliges and lifts his hips so that you can reveal more delicious olive skin, but he makes no move to assist you with his hands. You get the feeling that he is drinking in your efforts to touch him, the sensation of your jerky movements giving away how much you want him. 

You kiss and nibble at every possible moment, one hand drifting lightly over the length of him, twirling at the base dusted with short, dark hairs, cupping his balls then moving back up, your mouth traveling to meet your fingers. Hissing, his hand flashes up to meet the back of your head, fingers tangling in strands to tug tightly on your scalp. With a light moan, you tongue along the side of him, teasing hot air more than actually licking him. 

“Look at me- fuck - pretty thing, s-so fucking willing for me, I want to see you take my cock as far as you can, s-show me how much you can handle-” He pulls harder at your hair, dragging you roughly enough to control your neck, back up from where you were sucking at his hip to the head of his dick. “Are you going to show me yourself before or after I gag you on it?”

Fuck, you never realized how tantalizing submitting to another person could be, not until that came out of his mouth, rough enough to clip through the modulator. You elect to show him what you can handle. Leaning forward to meet the swollen tip, you part your plush lips and kiss at the drop of precum gathered there, before relaxing your jaw to take him halfway. He groans and nearly doubles over at the sudden sensation, holding you there for a second before you draw back up to spread your saliva more thoroughly. Lips rewet, you sink back down on him, gliding smoothly as you pull his cock deep within your mouth, drinking in his breathy groans.

“Maker, yes … that’s it, fuck-” You attempt to sink even further down on the Mandalorian’s impressive length, but stop short a few inches from his base, blunt head pressing in your throat. “-so good, s-so good for me baby, you look perfect like this.”

He’s so far back inside you that you can’t access your vocal cords to produce any noise at all, otherwise you’d be whining at his praise. Your hands are free to assist you at any time, you could circumvent his daunting length if you wanted help. But you want to impress him. Besides, your palms are warm on his torso, traveling under his shirt to feel the ropes of muscle there. You don’t want to remove them. 

You surface to the tip, taking a deep breath in preparation before ducking to take him as deep as you can manage. He watches you, entranced at the sight of a face so lovingly strained to please him. Your gag reflex spasms but you will it away, determined to fully engulf his cock at least once even if you find you’re unable to handle more. The noises rising from your throat are brutal and raw as you choke around him, his helmet blurring when tears fill your eyes. You bob a little then almost give up when the urge to retreat floods your senses but then he starts talking again- so filthy that you can’t stop yet.

“You’re trying so fucking hard, fuck, I love seeing you wrapped around my cock, Maker, you feel so fucking good, I can’t imagine how your little pussy must feel, you’re so warm, so, fu-fuck, tight…” The stream of filth serves as your motivation to bob for as long as possible on his length, throat stretched obscenely around him. You realize hazily that there are tears streaming from your eyes, but the urge to pull off is lost in dizziness as the oxygen in your lungs depletes. You keep going and going, your high at its peak as you recognize that your body is starting to fade in black. You should pull off and breathe, one quick breath is all you need, but the way he’s filling you is more addicting than the purest Spice. He notices when you start to slump into his lap and pulls you up gasping for air. 

Nearly fainting never felt so good.

“Shit, are you alright?” You nod and rest your cheek on his thigh, face turned on its side to meet his visor as he spins little circles in your vision. A soothing hand brushes against your cheekbone, tracing a gentle pattern on its height. “You were doing so good for me baby. No need to hurt yourself.” Mando’s voice is still breathless, offering you tenderness through a cloud of stimuli.

“I’m okay- I’m… I just need to catch m-my breath.” You’re still heaving unevenly but you want him so bad, you want him to finish for you, your wants translating into weak pawing at his dick trying to give him more sensation. He catches your wrist with an airy laugh and guides your uncoordinated movements to better stroke him. The sound fills you with light.

“Pretty thing, I know you want me. Try to not die on my dick before I’ve had the chance to feel your cunt.” His hand leaves yours on his length and reaches over your ass to cup the apex of your thighs through your pants. You jerk up and almost crack the crown of your head open on the chin of his beskar but his other palm is pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over in his lap. A garbled noise tears from you when his index and ring finger spread on either side of your outer lips, allowing his middle finger space to travel up and down your seam, so wet that you can feel the slickness gathering through two layers of fabric onto the tip of his finger.

“Ah, Fuck! Mando, I-I- wait please, please, wait-” He draws his hand up away from your wet center, reaching your asscheek before you yelp and snatch his forearm to stop him from retreating farther. “I s-still wanna, I wanna make you come. You first, before-before me.”

“Baby, you’re… fuck okay. Can I still touch you?” Mando caresses your hip at the fold where it meets your thigh. 

“Later, let me d-do this, please.” He allows you to lift his arm from your spine and rest it on the crown of your head as you move forward and try to meet his cock again. Pulling his thighs to the edge of the chair, you settle back on your knees and stroking him one-handed while he hums low in his throat. You wrap your lips around the swollen head, sucking and swirling your tongue before taking him deeper, this time using a palm to stroke the last few inches instead of opening your throat. Starting up a rhythm of bopping and stroking his velvety length that pulls incredible noises out of the Mandalorian, each one going straight to your swollen clit. 

Coming up for air you start to jerk him off faster with your slick hand, meeting the T of his visor with your heated gaze, hoping that you are finding his eyes. He must enjoy the sight of you jerking him off because his moans start to tighten, hips thrusting into your palm. 

“K-keep fucking doing that, good girl, fuck I-I’m close, where-where do you want it, baby?” You respond by settling low near his thighs, putting his cock above you with your tongue sticking out, wetting the tip while your wrist moves faster. Somehow he’s harder than ever and-

Mando curses through his teeth as his cock convulses, warm spurts of cum painting your tongue, cheeks, and nose bridge, rivers of him flowing down your chin and dribbling on the swell of your chest. He grips the back of your head tight enough to hurt, then rips one hand down to stroke himself, smearing the mess across your features. 

The fingers on your scalp loosen then graciously begin rubbing at the base of your neck to soothe the soreness on your head. One of your eyelids is sealed shut due to a rope of his cum crossing from nose to eyebrow, the other eye unfocused, hazy with pleasure as you listen to him come down from his peak. A low noise rises from your throat as he massages your scalp, feeling tingly all over as blood flows back to the area.

“T-Thank you… that was great, I-“ he breaks off when you start to gather his cum off your skin, licking it off your fingers while studying his visor through your lashes. “Hey, let me…” 

He surprises you by wiping at your face with his cape, still hanging off the arm of the pilot chair from when you detached it. You giggle, “Is there a way to wash that on here? I can’t even tell if that hole in the wall includes a shower.” 

“There’s enough to work with.” 

You laugh louder at that, “That’s encouraging. I hope there’s ‘enough to work with’ so that I don’t meet Karga covered in cum.” Pausing to consider your current position, you add, “Actually, that might help my case.” 

Face wiped mostly clean, you're able to open both eyes now, taking in his posture. A jolt shoots through you when you realize he’s holding himself differently for some reason, he looks almost predatory but maybe that’s just the effect of Beskar’s harsh angles... Nope, he’s leaning forward now, caging you in again.  

“You want to look sexy for Karga?” Gulping, you try to figure out the best response but he continues before your slow-ass mind can catch up, “You’re right, that might help you get better pucks. But I don’t know if I want my hunting partner to be introduced that way. I still need to return the favor…” 

He lifts your body with ease, pulling you sideways onto his lap. Mando’s warm hand slides along the bend in your knee, slow and sensual on your body. He caresses you aimlessly, relaxed in the afterglow of cumming so hard. You’re still tightly wound, energy balled in your body as his movements serve to wind you up even more. But he’s not moving any faster so you relax into his broad chest, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin. 

Time blurs with your senses. His touch pulls you to a place right out of your daydreams, where everything is draped in velveteen and silk. You’ve honestly forgotten his original goal in the first place, and as his arm begins to drag on its path, it seems like he has too. The stroking on your arm has lowered your arousal to a simmer, leaving you content to stay laying across his lap, the glow of hyperspace streaking over your bodies. All at once, you realize he’s no longer moving over your body, his chest rising and falling deeply against your shoulder. 

He’s asleep. Surprise registers sleepily somewhere in your exhausted mind, the realization behind layers of warm fuzz. Didn’t even think he slept. 

There’s a full day of travel until you reach Nevarro. Snuggling closer into the warm crook of his neck to resolve to live in this dream for as long as possible. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

[maxwell-grant]

AIUI, Burbank is even more a question mark than The Shadow is; we don't know if that's a personal name, surname, or nickname, we no nothing of his past, his personal life, or even (again, AIUI) his personality. Is that something that should be kept in adaptations, or ought he be developed more?

Both.

The thing about developing a mystery is that you still need to have something in place to purposefully obscure or slowly reveal. You still need to give your audience tidbits and information here and there that makes them want to learn more and find out what the answer is, even if they know it's never really happening, even if the answer couldn't possibly live up to the hype.

Twin Peaks was able to delay the mystery of Laura Palmer's murder for an entire season and more partially because Laura Palmer had such an rich, troubled inner life and turmoil, that we could gradually receive snippets of information regarding it every episode and still not know the whole story, so much so that, even after we learned who did it, there were still many, many stories to be told within Laura Palmer's life and the city. This holds true for The Shadow, and it holds true for Burbank.

Gibson successfully created intrigue regarding Burbank because, not only was Burbank a crucially important figure in The Shadow's organization and therefore someone we'd want to know more about, but because everytime Burbank showed up to play a substantial role, you could gleam something new about him. Burbank is a great example of staging in The Shadow pulps because his scenes are often written as if we were watching a movie where the head of our main character keeps being blocked from view, until it's revealed, and it doesn't really help us understand him much better than before, even though we've come to learn more about what he acts and looks like.

In fact, The Shadow even seems to be aware of this, such as in the scene below when the narration goes to great lenghts to obscure Burbank's face, even in a scene when there is literally no one around but Burbank and The Shadow. Why go through this much trouble to obscure Burbank from no one but the reader? Why not just refrain from describing what he looks like instead of making sure we can't even imagine what he looks like in our heads in the scene? What's the mystery over what's ostensibly just an average quiet-faced man? And so Burbank doesn't become just a mystery, but a tantalizing one.

The fellow's back was toward the light; since the elevator was dark, it was impossible to distinguish his features. When he helped The Shadow carry the boxes to an open apartment, the bulky objects came in front of the man's face. Since the apartment was dark, too, the features of this silent companion remained as concealed as The Shadow's own.

The fact pleased The Shadow. The less people who saw Burbank, the better - Voice of Death

For example, we do know where Burbank's name comes from, and potentially his first name. In both “The Shadow Laughs” and “The Case Of Congressman Coyd,” Burbank is referred to as “Mr. Burbank,” which indicates it's a last name. In The Death Giver, Burbank hands Harry a business card

At three fifteen, the stenographer entered and tendered Harry a card. It bore the name:

L. BURBANK MOTION PICTURE OPERATOR

A later story specifically namedrops famous horticulturist Luther Burbank, and according to Will Murray, Walter Gibson did confirm to him personally that Burbank was named after Luther Burbank.

We know Burbank's main feature is that he's "quiet-faced" with a "soft, even-toned voice", and that characters can recognize Burbank by his voice even when his face is obscured, but his look isn't consistent. His sole appearence in a cover comes from The Lone Tiger, where he seems to be past his fifties and being semi-bald, but it's not how he looks in Edd Cartier's illustration where he's got a hairdo. Both seem to be somewhat based on Dr David Burbank, the New Hampshire dentist who founded the city. He's been said to be at least 40 once, and this in itself is at odds with some descriptions that place Burbank as younger than The Shadow and describe him as "a young man with a solemn look", which is more in line with how he tends to be depicted in comics, particularly the blonde man with the eyepiece designed by Michael Kaluta.

We know he was officially introduced after Harry Vincent and Claude Fellows, but that apparently he's known The Shadow for quite a while, as he (as Cranston) refers to Burbank as "an old friend" in his introduction (is he an old friend of Cranston as well?). Robert Sampson speculated that the two met in 1924 at a radio station, where as Rick Lai speculates that Burbank may have been recruited in an unrecorded adventure in Rio de Janeiro, mentioned in Gypsy Vengeance, that took place between the first and second novels.

We know that Burbank is at a rather unique position among the agents because he is maybe the most important figure in The Shadow's network, the main keeper of The Shadow's secrets, the one entrusted to run the organization on The Shadow's absence, the only one who can directly reach The Shadow in the Sanctum, and if anyone knows anything about whatever secrets there are in The Shadow's past, it's definitely him, but he's also the one we know the least about as a person, and contrary to the other agents, Burbank is often described in mechanized terms, which gives him a rather inhuman aura somewhat different than that of The Shadow's.

In a sense, Burbank was the mainspring of the machinery that The Shadow used in his warfare against crime.

As contact man, he kept in touch with all the active agents; there were times when he actually ran things, during The Shadow's absence. Tonight was one of those rare occasions when Burbank was needed on active duty.

Nevertheless, the human cogwheel had connected up a switchboard and had a short−wave radio set handy, so that he could continue his contact duties from this empty apartment - Voice of Death

When emergency demanded, Burbank served as he now was serving. Instead of making calls to the deserted sanctum, he was issuing orders in The Shadow's stead. - The Key

Everytime Burbank gets any sort of spotlight, we learn a little more about him, who he is, what he can't and can do. His methods, what he does to spend the time, some of the things he does for The Shadow outside of communications like planting recording devices in criminal hide-outs and devising or managing electrical devices and The Shadow's advanced technology (even if he doesn't fully understand it).

"Burbank began his own attempt to scale the wall. Ordinarily, his clutches would have been inadequate, and his toe holds were uncertain. But the wire was drawing upward under The Shadow's haul. It gave the needed support whenever Burbank floundered. The Shadow could actually sense his agent's progress by the varying strain upon the wire. At last, Burbank flopped over the roof edge like a landed fish" - Masters of Death

There were remarkable devices here. Burbank understood some of them, but the millionaire alone was familiar with all the equipment - Eyes of The Shadow

“To Burbank, long, lone vigils were nothing. He was not a man of action; he was one of endurance. Prompt, precise and always dependable, Burbank had served The Shadow well.“ - The Key

During his long hours of duty, he resorted to one methodical habit as he bided away the time. He always had a supply of chewing gum.” - The Killer

Burbank leaned back in his chair. His position was one of patient relaxation. While he awaited new telephone calls, his attitude was one of complete passivity. There was nothing excitable in the make-up of this man who sat with his back toward the light. Yet Burbank was a man of amazing endurance. In place of action, he exercised untiring vigilance. It was this quality that made him a most important factor in the affairs of that amazing personage known as The Shadow - The Killer

Burbank is, at once, the barrier between the agents (and by extension, us) and The Shadow, as well as the bridge that allows the agents (and us) to find and reach The Shadow.

And I do like it that Burbank's specifically said to not be cut for action, that he's not really a fighter or a marksman or even a super tech genius, on paper he's really just a guy who sits in a chair all day fiddling with radio equipment. But he is still cool and impressive by the standards of what matters most in The Shadow's world. He's patient and resourceful and vigilant and clever and trustworthy, and he's someone that The Shadow trusts more so than anyone else.

There was no sound of the door closing; no sound, indeed, to indicate that any person had moved in that direction. Yet Burbank knew, from experience, that his master, The Shadow, had departed, after giving him the sign that his vigil was ended.

Such word usually came from The Shadow’s sanctum. Tonight, being in the vicinity of Burbank’s present station, The Shadow had preferred to give his faithful agent fifteen or twenty minutes of extra respite by visiting him in person

Such was the way of The Shadow. Though none of his trusted operatives had ever seen his undisguised face; though his ways and actions were secret and mysterious to them; they received constant signs of The Shadow’s appreciation of their reliable cooperation - Death Triangle

In Suite 808, a figure was seated in front of the writing table. It was The Shadow, in his guise as Arnaud; Burbank was off duty, asleep in the other room.

The telephone buzzed; The Shadow answered it. He spoke in a quiet, methodical tone, a perfect imitation of Burbank's voice. Harry Vincent reported - The Case of Congressman Coyd

On one hand, I don't think the "mystery" of Burbank is ever going to be ruined, or should be ruined. But on the other hand, I definitely think there's a lot of room to explore more regarding what exactly is he as a person, as an agent, what kind of roles he plays, what is his connection to The Shadow or what relationship he has with other agents or other people he's meant to be in more direct contact with. I think it's a matter of balance.

There's a lot of room to work with particularly regarding how you could adapt Burbank into adaptations set in different time periods (not necessarily modern day), because with how communication technology had advanced beyond imagination, there's a lot of ways you could adapt or recontextualize Burbank, The Shadow's social network.

[rose-animenz]

ZoroSan 5/11/21 (fluff /smut)

Zoro Wanted to play with Sanji’s hair. It looked soft and was the perfect length to create little braids with. He kept this small wish to himself though, if people knew they’d probably think he’s gay or a perv. It was getting dark out as the crew headed into the dining room on the Merry. It was small but it allowed them to eat together. No one but Luffy fully trusted Nico Robin, but it was the unspoken rule that they always eat together. She entered with no verbal complaints from the crew, but many doubtful looks were shot her way. Luffy, not understanding the tension spoke up.

“Come! Sit by me. Don't worry, I don't bite… unless you're made of beef, then maybe.” She laughed and strolled over to sit by the captain. They dined in silence at first but then again, Luffy couldn't read a room to save him.

“DONE! Sanji! I want more.” Sanji shot him an irritated look.

“Well, we don't have any extra. I couldn’t just leave this poor mademoiselle to starve tonight. Since I made hotpot I couldn't just ‘make more’ so the extra serving that I usually leave for you went to her.” Luffy’s stomach growled as if he hadn’t just eaten a larger serving than the rest of the crew.

Zoro, tired of the nonsense, spoke up, “Here, Luffy. You can have my serving. I'm not that hungry anyway, I've got my Sake to fill up on.” Luffy grabbed the plate from across the table without asking any more questions. Zoro left the dining area and walked around to the back of the Merry, past the tangerines. He sat down, a jug of alcohol in hand, and waited for everyone to finish eating. After what seemed like 15 minutes, he heard the door open and the footsteps of his crewmates. In the distance, he heard a conversation.

“Mmmm-- I'm sleepy guys, should we hit the sack?” that had to be Luffy.

“Might as well, we have nothing else to do.” he assumed that was Nami.

“I’ll start watch rotation tonight, it's been almost a week since I have.” Oh, great. Sanji is on watch. Zoro knew that as soon as everyone went to the sleeping quarters he was going to harass him about filling up on Sake and giving away a good meal. No one objected and he heard the footsteps become distant. Surprisingly, Sanji didn't come to Zoro.

“Maybe the cook finally learned he can't control my habits,” he whispered to himself. He sat a while longer, drinking in silence. He started thinking about braiding Sanji's hair again. Imagining doing little braids with his bangs. He imagined running his fingers through it and seeing Sanji smiling as he did so. His fantasy was interrupted by the click of a door and footsteps coming his way.

“Ah, so he is gonna scold me,” Zoro mumbled. Sanji turned the corner and walked to where Zoro was sitting cross-legged. Zoro looked at the ground already annoyed despite Sanji not saying anything yet. Sanji sat next to him and rather than starting to reprimand him, he set a plate in front of him with a sandwich. Zoro looked up towards Sanji. He was staring out at the ocean, looking calmer than usual. Zoro picked up the sandwich and began to eat silently. They sat there together for a bit until finally Zoro was finished eating. He set the plate down in front of him. They continued to sit together in silence, just staring out at the ocean.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking so much, it's bad for your health,” Sanji said, finally breaking the silence.

“So you did come to scold me! And you can’t talk. Every time I see you, you're smoking! How many packs even is that a day?”

Laughing, Sanji replied, “Okay, fine I'll shut up, and it's three.”

“Three what?”

“Three packs a day.”

Zoro looked at him with eyes filled with concern and fear. He took another large swig from his jug. They continued sitting in silence. He wanted to touch Sanji’s hair again. Maybe he could play it off as trying to get something out of it. Maybe if he gets a chance to touch it he won’t want to anymore and he won't focus on it as much. Maybe he could just ask to touch it… no that couldn't happen; either Sanji would be weirded out and leave or he would use it to make fun of him with the others. Plan A it is then.

He looked over at Sanji and reached his hand out. He grabbed a small lock of his hair and pretended that he was grabbing something small. It was soft, softer than he imagined actually. Sanji turned and looked at Zoro.

“You had something in your hair. It was bugging me.”

“Oh okay, thanks,” Sanji said, looking away, covering most of his face with his arm. It may have just looked that way since it was dark, but Zoro thought his ears were really red. He ignored it and took another large swig.

“Hey, Sanji. I want you to make me a deal.”

“Uh, what are the conditions?” Sanji replied hesitantly.

“Well, I want to do something, but you can't tell the others and you can't get weirded out.”

“And what do I get?”

“I won’t drink alcohol for three days.”

Sanji was interested in seeing how he would cope with that and accepted. Zoro turned his body and raised his hand to Sanji's head. Sanji closed his eyes and expected a slap, but was surprised when Zoro pat his head softly. He started running his fingers through it and separating it into sections.

“What are you even doing?”

“Braiding your hair,” he said in a monotone voice. He continued to section off his hair before starting to twist it into a loose braid. He continued his work until all of the hair on the front half of Sanji’s head was in braids. When he finished he moved back to his original position and took another swig.

“What was that even about…?”

“Just felt like styling it up a bit,” Zoro responded. Sanji didn't ask any further questions as he ran his fingers through to undo the braids. Once again, they sat in silence staring at the sea.

“Zoro, I want to make a deal.”

“Original today aren’t we?”

“Shut up, I’m being serious. same conditions as yours.”

“And?”

“I won’t smoke for three days,” Sanji said hesitantly.

“You literally chose the same template as mine.”

They stared at each other for a second.

“Fine, deal,” he said after a moment. Sanji moved toward Zoro looking into his eyes. Zoro couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. Sanji raised his hand and covered Zoro’s eyes. Zoro felt to tired t even question why he did that but then his question was answered with something he didn't expect. He felt a soft peck against his lips. When Sanji removed his hand from over his eyes he looked at the pink tint dotting Sanji’s cheeks. Strangely enough, Zoro wasn’t mad. Why wasn’t he mad? Was there something wrong with him? Why did it kind of feel nice? With these questions circling in his head, he continued to stare at Sanji, who was getting redder by the second. He had to figure out why he wasn't mad, so he leaned in and kissed Sanji. This kiss was longer and had more intensity. Zoro pulled away, seeing the same red color on his ears as before. So it wasn't the dark.

Sanji’s tie fluttered down as he closed the wooden door behind them. Sanji had grabbed Zoro’s arm and led him to the dining room. Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro’s neck and began to bite his lip.

“Are you sure that you want to? I'm not great at sex.”

“I'm not here for the sex, I’m here because it's with you.”

With that being said Zoro pushed Sanji down onto the floor next to a table leg. He began kissing him, starting from his mouth leaving a trail up to his ear and then down his neck. He began unbuttoning Sanji’s dark navy blazer and his shirt underneath. With his torso revealed, Zoro began biting and sucking on his shoulders. With each nibble, Sanji let out a small gasp. He moved down and began toying with his nipples. He grabbed each one between his index finger and thumb and began to roll them. Surprisingly he heard nothing from Sanji. Maybe guys don't like this kind of thing? He looked up and saw Sanji covering his mouth and face with his arm.

“What are you doing?” Sanji moved his arm revealing the red saturating his cheeks. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wide. He liked it. A lot. Zoro moved back down to continue his work, taking his time teasing them, Sanji was still pretty quiet but Zoro knew how to make him louder. He took his tongue and slid it against Sanji’s erect nipples. Once again, Sanji was silent, so Zoro looked up and found him hiding in his arms again.

“If you want me to continue you’re gonna have to stop that,” he said with a low voice.

“I don't mean to… I just get embarrassed and that my instant reaction…”

“Well, I have a solution then.” Zoro retrieved the discarded button-up and used the sleeves to tie Sanji’s wrists to the table leg that was nearby. The table should be strong enough since they had to nail it down for traveling. Ignoring Sanji’s protests Zoro moved down and began unbuttoning Sanji’s pants. He pulled them down to his knees along with his boxers, freeing Sanji’s erection, which was still growing. He grabbed Sanji’s dick causing his hips to buck a little, searching for friction. Zoro’s body began to heat up. He gave it a light squeeze before stroking it, then he quickly worked himself up to a fast pace. He could hear the whimpers and moans coming from Sanji now that he had bound his hands. A loud moan escaped Sanji’s lips, and Zoro was certain he had never wanted to hear any sound again so badly in his entire life. He looked up at Sanji and gave him a smirk. He used his thumb to rub the tip and that's what pushed him over the edge. Sanji’s cum spilled into Zoro’s hand as his toes curled and his body twitched. Zoro gave him a moment to come down and enjoyed the euphoric expression while it lasted. As soon as Sanji’s body stopped twitching he lifted up his legs.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

“Don't worry, I’m just using your thighs. I still haven’t cum.”

He placed his cock between Sanji’s thighs. He began to thrust quickly letting the soft skin bring him pleasure. He moved at a pace that brought him close but not there yet. Sanji seemed to be enjoying the look on Zoro’s face as he enjoyed himself. Finally, he reached his limit and climaxed, letting his cum spill on Sanji’s stomach. He untied the button-down shirt and lied next to him.

“That was great…” Sanji said breathlessly

“Next time, I’m bringing lube.” as Zoro said this Sanji shot up and hit him in the chest.

“Were my thighs not good enough for you stupid swordsman?”

Zoro laid there quietly for a moment before replying, “actually, it was fantastic, I just want to see your reaction to different stimulation.” Sanji laughed mumbling about him being the world’s biggest perv.

1,918 words/ 10,379 characters

notes

first ever time writing smut so uh yeah

xoxo

also thx to that one anon for rec

[wolfish-trickster]

Liar

part 6

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1,3K

Warnings: angst, typos, anxiety, drunk godly bros™

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @belovedadam @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz @lokis-leah @nickkie1129 @getyoutmoon

It seems like the whole eternity passed since you sat on a big white couch with the perfect view on the usual Bifrost landing place. It got dark outside, moon shone brightly from behind dark clouds. Rex fell asleep in your lap. Your eyes were glued to the piece of balcony with Asgardian runes burned into metal. 'Any moment now. Please.'

Right after you let those ugly words out of your mouth you ran after Loki, but when you opened the door he was gone. Teleportation, most likely. You searched the whole party deck, armory, gym, library and even the labs but couldn't find him.

After searching for nearly an hour you finally saw him and his brother going on balcony. You ran towards them, screaming for Loki, but he was already engulfed by the rainbow beam. All you could do now was wait for him to return. You didn't know how long. A day? Two? A week? A whole month? You didn't care, you just wished he was back already.

'Then what?' asked the little voice in your head that has been tormenting you ever since you got into puberty. 'You literally told him you regret being his friend, do you really think he'll forgive you just like that?' it's nasty tone whispered.

You covered your ears, but that didn't make the ugly thought go away. It made it louder instead. 'You're selfish. He does everything in his power to make you believe him, always does the first step to make up with you and what do YOU do?'

"Shut up," you whisper to yourself, "just please shut up."

"Who are you talking to?"

You looked up to see Natasha in her tight uniform standing infront of you. You leaned back and looked away. "No one."

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" she asked and sat down besides you, one hand softly scratching your waking pup.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, I do."

"Then why trying?"

You shrugged. "To try if I got better at it?"

"Okay, something is going on with you. Care to tell me what?"

Maybe it was just your mental state, but the way she asked sounded like you were just another mission for her, not a friend she was concerned about.

You turned your head away from her and crossed your arms over your chest. "No, I just want to be alone again."

"You're alone a lot these days. That's not healthy."

"Well, I like it that way."

"Liar," she remarked.

You stiffened. Such a small word, such an impact. You started to hate it.

"Don't you have a mission to be on or something?" you quickly changed the subgect and pointed to her uniform.

"No, we just returned. Didn't you notice?" she gestured behind her back at the rest leaning on the counter either drinking or pushing an ice back to parts of their sore bodies. Every Avenger was there. Well, minus Thor and Loki. And you.

"Wait, when did you guys leave?"

"Around 3 hours ago. You really didn't notice?" she asked bewildered.

No, you didn't. They left around that time when you were looking in every dark corner of the giant library. There was no way for you to know they were leaving. Unless...

"Why didn't you tell me you were going? I could've helped!"

"We didn't want to stress you. You seem like bundle of nerves lately and we didn't want to make it worse," she said carefully.

"But I really could've helped! And I also needed some distraction! I can take a little stress you know? I didn't become Avenger for nothing!" you said kind of desperately.

"Yes, yes. We know. But still. You don't look in shape for fighting yet. Mentally I mean," she tried to calm you down, but your mind was already in move. Did they think you were too weak?

"Do you think I am too weak?"

"What? Of course not! It's just.... listen, you are in a really dark place right now and I can see it. You're walking around like a ghost, not talking to anyone, hardly eating anything. The last time I saw a genuine smile on your face was over a week ago! Trust me, fighting is the last thing you should do."

"She's right," Clint walked up from behind you. "Look, there's enough of us to finish the job. You just lean back, take some rest for a week or two and when you're okay, and I mean REALLY okay, then you can come and work. But for now, rest," he brushed some of your hair from your face and layed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing a little.

It warmed your heart to know they care about you. But you still couldn't fight off the thought. 'They are trained from birth, geniouses, biologically enhanced and what are you? Yes, they care now, but what about tomorrow? A day after that?'

You forced the thought away and nodded. "Okay, I'll try."

Both Clint and Nat smiled. "Great! Now come, I remember a certain Captain loosing a bet and serving us all ice cream," he pulled you to your feet and with Rex trailing behind you lead you to join the rest.

You looked over at Natasha, silent question in your eyes. She chuckled and whispered: "Tony and Steve made a bet who will infiltrate the Hydra base first. He said it's a good motivation to finish it as fast as possible."

You chuckled and sat down on one of the tall bar chairs. Steve gave you a bowel with the most amount of ice cream and fruit. He said you looked like you need it the most. And true enough, when you looked behind him into a mirror you saw your new depressed resting face.

You slowly ate the frozen treat and watched The Mighty Avengers play with your puppy like little kids. Bucky fell in love with him the most, he always secretly gave him treats and peaces of meat when he was in the kitchen. It's only a matter of time until he asks to take him out and play with him for the whole day.

You knew Sam and Bruce always say they are cat persons, but even they couldn't resist and were throwing him one small pillow after another and watched how he battled it. Sam even pulled out his shoe lace and dragged it infront of the small dog and chuckled when he was trying to catch it.

Even through the soft chatter around and the ease atmosphere you still felt like something, or someone was missing. You gazed down at your bowl, a green ball of apple ice cream was there along with some blueberries. Green and blue. Colours you associated with Loki. You really started to see him in everything, didn't you?

You sighed and checked the balcony once more. Nothing. No one.

As you were going to tell your team you're going to sleep and to return Rex back into your room when they're done with playing a loud dull crash echoed through the room. Two Asgardians were sloppily leaning on eachother on the balcony, both covered in dirt from head to toe. Thor had some small flowers sticking from his hair as well as Loki. Everyone was staring at themwith a shock, surprise and some with amusement in their eyes.

Brothers got stuck in the doorway momentarily (they both refused to let the other enter first) but when they finally made it through Thor tripped and fell on his face. Loki started to laugh, but not with his deep velvety laugh. It sounded.... off. Only drunk people laugh that way.

But you've seen him drunk, this wasn't how he acted.

When he stopped his laugh he straightened his back, stretched out his arms in his iconic T pose and shouted. "DOES ANY OF YU MOTAL ANTZ KNOW, WHEREAS IS THE LADY UNIVERS?"

He wasn't drunk. He was completely sloshed.

And you were kinda affraid of what was about to come.

[anika-ann]

The Fall Tale (S.R.)

(Of Fallen Leaves and Falling Dames)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3400

Summary: 

You just wanted to take advantage of the joy that the fall provides. You just wanted to be silly for a bit, let go of the adulting and feel as carefree as a kid again.

It gets enormously out of hand, but you find yourself unable to complain at the turn of events.

Prompt: one involving the fall, colourful leaves and a meet-cute (full prompt at the end of the fic as to not spoil the plot)

Warnings: swearing and tooth-rotting fluff (no really, it’s dripping sweetness as a damn maple sirup)… kids involved, not reader’s

A/N: For wonderlandmind4 challenge. Thanks for letting me participate in such awesome challenge! I adore this prompt! I hope you’ll get many sweet followers and that you’ll enjoy the submitted fics!

A/N 2: the lovely fall devider by firefly-graphics

The air was crisp, almost biting against our skin, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t mind one bit – even if your outfit was clueing otherwise.

The last October week was an unpleasant thing for multiple reasons, but the weather really was the cherry on top of your bittersweet cake; saying that was you being dramatic as hell, the past few days had only required of you to run many many adult errands, but still.

The gloomy morning fog that often lingered, overstaying its welcome, the cold wind and the absence of sun was beginning to take its toll on you, painfully reminding that the ‘sweater weather’, better-known to you as the ‘witch-bitch autumn time’, had long chased Indian summer away. You hated this kind of weather.

Colourful leaves, sun seeping through the clouds, playing with the vivid yellow, orange, red and remaining green in the treetops? God bless.

The kind of weather which this week graced you with, more or less requiring to keep your mouth covered with a scarf when going out? No, nope sire, shove it.

Today, however, a small miracle occurred; despite the yucky morning drizzle and downright icy wind, sunrays found their way through the clouds, illuminating you path as you had decided to reward yourself for the boring adulting-filled morning you pushed through.

The park was mostly quiet, the majority of New York City citizens clearly discouraged by the slick traps of mud and fallen leaves and the reluctant rise of temperature. Walking in the alley lined with maples and oaks felt like a dream, the uneasy feeling, tied to the many responsibilities to your person, that had been clutching at your gut subdued, the weight falling from your shoulders and allowing you to breathe in. Smile even grazed your lips as you spotted a dark-skinned man practically serving like a jungle gym to two kids, whose laughter was brought to you by the wind.

God, you wished to be a kid just for a moment again! (And the opportunity to climb that broad-shouldered man was only a part of the reason.)

You snickered under your breath, your gaze moving on—and falling onto a pile of fallen and neatly raked leaves by an old oak roughly three hundred feet from you.

Your smile widened. Someone from above was clearly sending you a signal and a wordless approval of your need for some child-like behaviour – because damn, was there anything more childish that wanting jump right into those leaves?

Your mind helpfully supplied you with an image of kids stomping into a puddle and jumping in that muddy mess and you came to conclusion that there were worse things you could do. Laundry day was ahead anyway.

With one goal ahead, chanting that you deserved a break from adulting, you quickened your pace and approached the pile with determination. You spun around, chuckling to yourself and trying hard not to think about the poor person who had worked on raking the leaves so hard, you spread your arms wide, closed your eyes in bliss and let yourself fall to the soft natural bedding.

The collision with something hard came sooner than expected, causing a startled yelp erupt from your throat – mostly because the mass your body met with moved and grunted.

You quickly spun away, literally falling on your ass when you tried to stand up again. A head peeked out from the pile of colourful leaves, followed by impossibly large frame of a man sitting up.

You sat there with our mouth open in mute awe, heart pounding in your chest, head spinning from both the shock and abrupt movements.

Still, you had enough wits to notice two things.

One, the man was gorgeous. Blond hair slightly ruffled by the wind and his previous hideout, startlingly bright blue eyes framed by unfairly thick and long eyelashes, plush lips, sharp jaw—and gosh, you didn’t think you had even seen shoulders so broad and arms begging to be wrapped in so prominently.

Two, the man, obviously, had leaves in his hair, a tiny smidge of mud on his cheek, his clothes, while rather fine and as if stolen from a sports catalogue, damp and little dirty; and he was frowning at you. And kinda gaping. Probably hurting too – the impact for you had been unpleasant, but it must have seriously hurt him.

And yet, instead of apologizing to him for this absurd situation, a whole different sentence left your lips as you were still seated on your ass on the wet ground, palms supporting you on your sides.

“What the hell are you doing here, hiding in a pile of leaves?!” you shrieked, the high-pitched sound as embarrassing as your reaction. You gulped when the real-life Adonis in front of you grimaced, cleaning himself of some of the leaves stuck in his hair. Your fingers might have twitched in urge to help him, but your mind went entirely elsewhere, another thing occurring to you. “Could you even breathe in there?!”

Clearly, he could, since he was perfectly fine.

Bravo, you genius, why couldn’t you figure that out before asking such a stupid question?

He stared at you for another moment too long, apparently as taken aback by the situation at hand as you were… and then he chuckled, his hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Eh, yeah, I could. And I was… uhm-“ he beckoned to the trio you had noticed earlier, the man who was probably babysitting for a friend, and you let out a silent oh as a victorious yell carried through the park “-playing hide and seek. Are you okay?”

The question was so softly spoken, a timid smile creeping to his lips and your heart melted an instant, laughter bubbling in your chest at the ridiculous predicament you found yourself in.

Talk about an embarrassing meet-cute with the most beautiful (yes, beautiful) man you could ever imagine. What else could you do but laugh… and perhaps fall in love a bit? You had jumped at him and he was asking if you were okay.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you assured him, returning the smile, not any less sheepish. His eyes lit up even more and your heart, finally slowing down a bit, started racing again. You must have hit your head and now you were making this guy up, right? There was no way a man like this actually walked the Earth. “Are you though?”

One corner of his lips rose higher as he climbed to his feet, dusting off his palms as much as he could, and gentlemanly offered you a hand to help you stand up. You could swoon at that moment.

“Worse things happened to me than having a pretty woman land on me.”

Uhh, a smooth talker when he wanted to be. Would you look at that.

You accepted his hand just for the sheer indulgence and to make sure you actually hadn’t imagined him, because this--- this specimen was talking to you and flirting with you. Doubting his existence was only natural.

His calloused palm tugged you up gently with barely any effort, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours and you had to force yourself to let go.

“Well, I’m glad. And uhm… I’m sorry. I really didn’t expect to--eh, you know,” you gestured awkwardly between him and the messed-up pile in a place of an explanation. He only shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours, a spark of laughter in them. “Question still stands though. Why would you hide here of all places? Kids love jumping into these.”

His eyebrows shot up and he chuckled, looking you up from head to toe. You felt a rush of blood warming your cheeks when you realized what a dishevelled picture you must have made and you self-consciously dusted off your clothes as if it had any effect.

“And yet it was you who jumped. Interesting,” he mused in a teasing manner, with no malice in his voice as he called you out on your child-like antics.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, grinning self-depreciatingly. You had totally walked into that one.

“I-uhm… I have a young soul…?”

The god amongst men huffed a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling and fuck, you really were falling hard by the second. He was—no words existed in English language to describe what a looker and charmer he was. The infamous butterflies flipped their wings wildly in your stomach, the slight embarrassment, while lingering, you barely acknowledged when the man laughed at your joke.

A sudden movement to your right startled you along with a heavy thud of feet and you yelped for the second time that afternoon, instinctively jumping away; your feet slipped on the wet ground and you prepared yourself for an unwanted meeting with the ground-

Only to land in Steve’s arms, curling around you protectively, sending your heart plummeting on the park floor – both in fright and dizziness, because shit he was warm and strong and over the natural scent of the park that lingered on his clothes, you got a whiff of his cologne and detergent and whatever and gosh, he smelled so good too. And his face was now in dangerous proximity and his beaty was even more startling up close and you could die a happy woman right here.

You found yourself so intoxicated that it took you a while to follow his gaze to the source of your current predicament; another man, just as ridiculously fit (what the hell was happening today, first the kid guy, then the charming blondie and now this brunet), with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“Is all good, dollface. Steve here is an old soul, you’ll make a perfect match,” the man hummed as a thumping of several pair of feet shook the ground, announcing the incoming trio, still too far to overhear your absurd conversation.

The cheekiness of the newcomer and the fact he had just dropped from a freakin’ tree only to land right next to you would be annoying if he hadn’t just called you a good match to Steve and hadn’t finally reveal your handsome stranger’s name.

Steve.

He kinda looked like a Steve.

Steve sighed, sounding bone-tired because of his friend’s attitude. “Dammit, Bucky. Give the dame here a heart-attack, why don’t you?”

Dame?

“Got her in your arms, didn’t it?” Bucky retorted nonchalantly and as if in slow motion, Steve glanced down at you as he held you securely to his frame, appearing to realize your proximity for the first time. He swiftly helped you to find your footing for the second time that day and let go, causing you miss his warmth in an instant. “Hey there. This was so funny to watch that I forgive you for compromising our positions.”

Your cheeks felt like on fire again.

Sadly, you didn’t get a chance to come up a snarky remark as the ‘seekers’ finally reached you with booming laughter.

“We found you, Uncle Steve! And Uncle Bucky! Do we get the hot chocolate?” the girl around eight years old asked excitedly as she grabbed Steve’s arm and tugged on it as if she already wanted him to lead the way towards what you assumed was the promised sweet treat.

Truth to be told, your heart might have skipped a beat in relief upon learning that your new flirty buddy wasn’t the father. Also, you almost swooned, again, when he scooped the girl to his arms – correction, arm – and booped the girl’s nose, making her giggle. The image pulled at your heartstrings and you didn’t even bother analysing the fact that you felt such intense emotions after barely meeting the guy.

“Of course we do, Lila! They promised!” the boy, of whom you guessed was maybe two years younger, stated as if it was clear as day. Then, he swiftly took advantage of his new tree to climb – Bucky.

The man whom you seen earlier with them huffed.

“Not sure if it’s a good idea to feed them more sugar,” he questioned, sceptical. Then he turned to you, flashing you a smile that seemed kind despite his next words. “Hi. Thanks for your tremendous help. You sentenced us to an afternoon with sugar-fuelled monsters.”

Your eyebrows rose at such accusation, challenging, as you were not about to take the blame.

“Pretty sure you did that when you agreed to babysit.”

“Okay, that’s a fair point, I suppose.”

“It is,” you sassed him back.

Despite that, you couldn’t but make an offer. Not because you felt too guilty for ‘compromising Steve’s position’ – but because you couldn’t pass at the potential opportunity to spend more time with th--- yeah, mainly with Steve, who were you kidding. Though they all seemed like a funny bunch.

Yet, you eyed Steve as you worried your teeth over your lower lip. “However, since you’ve been made because of me, I might treat you guys a coffee? In a café that won’t kick us out despite the state of our clothes?”

Steve’s eyes met yours and even if he was beat to speaking by Lila, you could tell that he liked the proposition. Whether it was because of an intense coffee craving or liking the idea of not parting ways with you yet (he had been flirting!), you couldn’t tell.

You hoped for the latter.

“Yes! The nice lady will buy coffee for you grown-ups and we get a hot chocolate! Yay!”

All the grown-ups couldn’t but smile at the girl’s enthusiasm.

“Well, the nice lady needs to know that she doesn’t have to do that. But I could use some caffeine,” Steve said politely, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “But we all know we shouldn’t let a stranger walk us to god-knows-where, don’t we? No matter how pretty they are. Does the nice lady have a name?”

Ah, the smooth talked was back. And if Bucky’s and the other man’s smirks were anything to go by (or the look they exchanged for that matter), they were both amused and impressed by his flirting skills.

You introduced yourself then, shaking hands with Lila and her brother Cooper’s hand, followed by Bucky’s (with some difficultees as he was a bit occupied with the climbing Cooper) and then Sam’s. Steve shifted Lila from one arm to the other, just like that-- Jesus he was strong, and shook your hand as well, his touch lingering a little.

You certainly didn’t complain.

“It’s settled then. Lead the way,” Sam beckoned to you, before he stared down the two youngsters. “And you, down, you were full of energy a minute ago, you can walk just fine without these two carrying you.”

“Yes, Uncle Sam,” sounded unison from the kids, and you snicked, a picture of a leaflet asking men to join the army flickering in front of your eyes at the addressing.

Looking back, it should have dawn to you right then. Hell, you even considered that they might have all been a part of some law enforcement, or maybe firefighters, judging by their built, but the obvious didn’t occur to you; not until you reached the café and got questioned by your friend about when you had adopted three Avengers and two kids.

You stopped dead in your tracks upon Jill’s exclamation, your whole body freezing – including your brain.

Steve.

Bucky.

Sam.

Their ridiculously ripped bodies. Steve being an old soul, for Christ’s sake!

Oh no.

The air was tense for several seconds as you reconciled with the fact that you had had found yourself landing on Captain America twice today and that you had met the Falcon and the Winter Soldier while they were babysitting of all things.

“Pretty sure that now we’ve been made,” Sam uttered, causing you break from your trance. To your own surprise, a half-insane chuckle erupted from our throat, the sound being just another reason to hide your face in your palms, wishing for the floor to swallow you. The cheek you showed to damn superheroes! “Well, it was fun while it lasted and she treated you like the dorks you are.”

Huh?

“Look who’s talking, birdbrain,” Bucky huffed and based on the audio, since you sort of eliminated your visual input by hiding behind your hands, it sounded as if Bucky pulled Sam and the kids away, leaving you and Steve alone by the counter with a swift ‘you know our orders, punk’ thrown over his shoulder.

When Steve didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity and a half, you spread your fingers so you could peek at him between them; you found him smiling at you patiently, but the twinkle from his eye, the one you had already learned to adore, was gone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect, or-“

Steve – Captain America – shook his head, slowly reaching out to gently grasp your forearms to make you lose the barrier created from your hands. The movement was very slow and easy to spot so you could stop him if you wanted; because of course, he would respect your boundaries, he was a gentleman from the past century. You let him; you gave up to the pressure, but fixed our gaze on the floor, unable to face him fully as he released your arms.

“Hey. No worries. It was actually really nice to be just a weird guy who got jumped on, because he was hiding in a pile of raked leaves,” he admitted kindly and that had you raise your eyes to his again, finding nothing but honesty in his brilliant irises. “It was really nice to think I might have had a shot with a gal like you even being just that guy.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, your breath hitching in hope.

Wait, hold on a second, did that mean—but- certainly you weren’t that lucky, you-

“Uhm… it- it was?” you stuttered, mesmerized by the comeback of the twinkle to his eyes as he smiled wider and nodded. Your pulse skyrocketed, your head spinning for a bit because of what he was implying. He really liked you? “Oh. That’s… he did have a shot for sure. He—uhm, he was pretty charming.”

A shot? Like thousand of them! A million!

You wouldn’t even dare to dream about a guy like Steve being interested in you – he was so out of your league. Showing as much as a mild interest and you’d jump after the chance despite questioning the reality of it all – you kinda wanted to pinch yourself.

If he wanted to give you two a try and see you again… gee, who were you to protest. Already you had been falling for his gorgeous smile and stupidly handsome face… and body. And flirting. And-

He searched your face for a short moment and only then it dawned to you that with the words you used, it might have sounded as if he didn’t have that shot anymore. But he must have understood what you meant from what he read in your expression, because he took a tiny step closer to you.

All of sudden, you found it incredibly hard to breathe, as if your racing heart and spinning head wasn’t dangerous enough; you were almost afraid to breathe in, because if you got another whiff of him, you might jump him right here and now.

Focus.

Steve’s smile was bright as were his eyes, his voice only carrying a trace of self-consciousness as he spoke. “And now? Do I still have it?”

With sudden surge of confidence, your fingers brushed his hand as you glanced at him from under your eyelashes; his smile when you squeezed his hand could power a good part of Manhattan.

“Yeah. I think I’d like him to take me out for coffee or something…” Your gaze flickered to the boot padded with towels, which you got from the friendly owner in order to not let the hide-and-seekers dirty the cushions, and you couldn’t but grin cheekily. “Preferably without four children to babysit.”

Steve reciprocated the squeeze of your hand first and then burst out laughing when you finished, watching you as if you were the greatest and funniest thing that ever happened to him in like a month – which, as far as the humour went, it might have been.

“You got yourself a deal.” And as if you weren’t already halfway in love with him, he raised your still connected hands and landed a brief kiss on the back of yours. “I can’t wait.”

The Winter Tale - sequel

S.R. masterlist

Thank you for reading! 

Our fall weather does suck momentarily, so I hope your doesn’t and if it does that this warmed you up a bit.

Full prompt: Jumping into a pile of colourful leaves. Only to accidentally land on a body hiding in the leaves as a stake out or game and now their position is compromised (Fall)

[blackberry-gingham]

i’m just imagining shy reader had a really bad day and on top of that is stuck at school when the weather is raining/snowing (maybe their ride never came) and theyre freezing.

then teddy boy john sees the poor little reader upset, cold, and tired and asks if they’re okay. but the reader has heard rumors about john, and their wary and scared of him. but john ends up convincing them to come with him,, so he takes them to his house to warm them up and provide some comfort for them after a long day 🥺🥺🥺

SJSKSKSKSK TEDDY!JOHN?? READER COMFORT?? AND A HIGH SCHOOL AU??!??!

I swear you guys literally can read my mind, like you all be sending in stuff I would've just written myself at some point 🥴

Here we go!

---

You scan up and down the road for the seventh time now. Class let out nearly an hour ago, and with good timing too. Something of a snow storm has taken over the town and as you've been waiting for your ride, a delicate frost has clumped your eyelashes together and snow has begun accumulating on your hair and shoulders.

With a sigh, you pace the side walk by the parking lot where your brother was supposed to be picking you up. You kick a mound of snow in frustration. It doesn't appear that he's coming.

A bitter wind blasts past, chilling you to the bone, even through your winter coat. You hunch up your shoulders and scuttle over to a little bench so you can hunker down.

You shovel off a patch of snow from it so you can sit. Not that it matters, you think to yourself, considering you're already practically soaked. Absent mindedly, you kick your feet out in front of you. Your socks are saturated with snow, and you're worried your mother will kill you for getting your nice leather riding boots soping wet.

She did tell you to wear your rain boots after all.

A few more minutes pass and by now you're ready to try and walk the several miles it'll take you to get home. You stand up, deciding you've finally had enough, only to jump as one of the old metal school doors slams several feet off in the distance.

Quizzically, you turn to look after the noise. You thought for sure everyone had gone home by now...

There, heading now towards the same parking lot you yourself are waiting at, trudges the John Lennon. Considering where he's just come out from and, well, who he is, you immediately know he's just got done serving some detention time. You crinkle up your nose and turn away, hoping he doesn't try to interact with you.

Typical teddy boy. Your mum warned you about boys like him.

You stand frozen in place, trying your best to look purposeful, until the gentle crunching of John's boots pass you by. They stop just behind you.

"Oi, what are you doing out here?"

For a moment, you consider ignoring him. But unfortunately, you were raised with manners. Curses.

You turn around on a dime, a stoic look on your face to convey that you are not to be messed with, "I'm waiting for my ride, thank you". You shift your weight beneath you, hoping it doesn't come across as nervous energy. You've just now realized you can't really feel your toes...

John surveys the empty parking lot and then the desolate school grounds around you.

"Doesn't look like they're coming, eh"

"W-well, if they're not here soon, I'll just w-walk", a violent shiver overtakes you. You immediately stiffen, and stare at John, terrified. He looks back at you with his little, shark like eyes, and suddenly you feel very vulnerable and alone.

"Nah, can't have that. Look at you, you're freezing love. Here, uuuh...", John takes off his flat cap and scarf and hastily secures them onto you. He takes a minute to appraise his work, but he must've come to the conclusion that his efforts are insufficient.

"Say, my bike's over there", he points to a little motorcycle, covered in snow, "how about you can come with me and I'll take you home?"

"N-no one's home... Mum's out visiting and dad's at work. I-I don't have a key...", Your voice starts to shake and you find you feel very abandoned right now. A tear rolls down your face, soon followed by another and another. You're just so cold, and tired, and scared, you can't seem to help yourself anymore.

John jolts, looking a bit scared himself. "U-uh, there there now, don't cry love", he checks his pockets for something, perhaps a handkerchief, and comes up empty. Instead, he takes the tail of the scarf he gave you and wipes your tears with a surprising gentleness.

"I-I'll tell you what! How's about you come home with me and wait until your mum or dad gets back, and then you can call home from my phone", he smiles at you nervously, and you can tell he's trying very hard to stop your crying.

You shiver again, and sniff. The tears have stopped for now and you figure it's time to weigh your options. He is right you know, you're quite cold. Far too cold to make it home without catching something. And certainly too cold to wait on your doorstep for someone to come let you in. But also... You've heard bad things about John and teds in general practically all your schooling days.

John looks at you with eyes full of concern. He shifts the weight of his school bag, but otherwise waits patiently for you to make up your mind.

With a soft sigh you look up the road one more time for any sign of your brother's car, then imagine the long, long distance home to walk.

Finally, you turn to John with your big, wet eyes and nod.

"Capital! Let's get you warm, eh?" he takes your hand and helps you through the thick snow on the way to his bike, "I can make a cuppa you know! O-or hot cocoa if you like! My Aunt Mimi is out too, but she won't mind of you come over for a bit. Er, maybe that is"

John situates you on the backseat behind him, then starts up the motor. You don't respond, but you do at least feel a bit better. You lean against his back and hold tight as he speeds off. He's surprisingly warm, you note.

As promised, you arrive at John's house in no time at all. He lets you in and relief washes over you as warmth seeps into your frozen bones. John leads you into the living room and directs you to the couch.

"There now... I can take your coat and boots if you'd like. Then I can start the kettle and we can watch the telly!"

You thank him and shed your soaked layers. John hangs them up on the coat pegs in the hall, then disappears into the kitchen.

In the meantime, you look around the space. It looks just like any other house. Clean, a few nice decorations, and a welcoming atmosphere. The couch you're on is clearly old and worn, but it's still rather comfy. There's a fuzzy blanket drapped over the back. It's much newer looking, and you pull it down to wrap yourself in.

It smells a bit like John.

Nearly as soon as you're settled, you can hear John taking off his own jacket and boots, before plodding into the room. "Kettle's on", he says as he leans over to turn on the telly. He tunes it to a funny little show and then joins you on the couch.

This is one of your favorites, and you instantly feel your mood elevate. You didn't expect a guy like John would like it too...

The two of you watch and laugh on occasion until the water comes to a boil. John hops up and asks if you want tea or cocoa.

"Cocoa please"

He nods and scurries off. When he returns, it's with two piping hot mugs and a look of proud satisfaction. "Careful now...", He hands you a mug and then carefully sits besides you.

Feeling courteous, you move the blanket so he can join you under it. He smiles, and inches closer.

The two of you sip and watch in silence, but you've begun to get lost in your thoughts.

John's been awful nice to you through all this. He's done so much to put you at ease, when he could've just ignored you completely and went on home. You cast a glance his way, and then quickly back at the screen. What if... he's not as bad as you've been led to believe?

Suddenly, John gives a big yawn and stretches for the sky. Next thing you know, his arm is strategicly draped around your shoulder.

You smile to yourself.

"John...?"

"Yah?"

You lean in and give his cheek a little kiss. "Thank you"

[imaginingsoftly]

Trouble - Travis Konecny

Type: enemies to friends, Y/N insert 

Requested: No

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m working on a new series, although it’s going incredibly slowly, so here’s a little something on Konecny until I can start getting parts of the series out!

This was officially the worst day of your life. As if getting screamed at by no less than 5 middle-aged women at work and then heading home to your roommate and her boyfriend fighting again wasn’t bad enough, now you were sitting in your least favorite person’s apartment covered in wine and trying not to cry. Nolan at least had the grace to look sorry for dumping two full glasses of wine all over your neck and shoulders, though at that point even the most enthusiastic of apologies wouldn’t have mattered. 

“Y/N, I..” you held up a hand. If you didn’t get out of the room in the next five seconds you were going to lose it in front of Nolan and everybody else. Madison, the friend that had dragged you into this disaster in the first place, tried to go after you, but Ivan held her back. You thought you heard him whisper to give you a minute, but he spoke too quietly to be sure. It would have been hard to hear over the roaring in your ears anyway.

The mirror in Travis’ bathroom only served to make you feel worse. The wine had soaked through your shirt, staining the white tank top to the point that you knew it wasn’t going to come out. The shirt was the least of your current issues, though. It was the state of your brand new bra that finally broke you. The white lace, so beautiful when you’d bought it the day before, was now stained a dark red. You clutched the bathroom counter, trying to relax even as tears began to leak out of your eyes. “Trouble?” A knock sounded at the door, and you hurriedly wiped at your face. Travis would laugh if he saw you crying over some spilled wine. Hell, he’d probably make some kind of comment about city girls and being high maintenance. “Trouble, you okay in there?”

You opened the door to a laughing Travis, though his face quickly changed when he saw the mascara pooling under your eyes. “Y/N?” His hands came up to cup your shoulders awkwardly as you broke down. If Travis was calling you by your first name rather than that stupid nickname he’d given you, then you must really look bad. “Oh, sweetheart.” Travis pulled you in tightly for a hug, ignoring your muffled protests about the wine you were still covered in. He smelled good, like laundry detergent and some kind of musky cologne, and you took a deep breath. The smell settled into your lungs and your breathing calmed slightly. 

“Come on.” Travis pulled back slightly. “Let’s get you a new shirt, yeah? Maybe see if we can get the stain out of that one.” You were fairly certain that wouldn’t happen, but he was being nice to you for once. You’d take that for as long as possible. 

His room was just about what you’d expected. He wasn’t dirty, per say, but it certainly wasn’t spotless. His suit from the game the night before was discarded on a chair, and workout clothes sat in a pile next to the hamper rather than in it. Travis stepped through a door you assumed led to a closet, returning seconds later with a t-shirt and some sweatpants. “It’s on your jeans a little bit too, so if you give me everything I can get it washed real quick before the stain really sets in.” He was being weirdly thoughtful and you wondered if there was a prank coming. “There’s makeup remover in the top drawer if you want to use it. My ex left it in the bathroom one time and I never got rid of it.” He held out the clothes with a small smile. You took them gratefully, mumbling out a thank you as you slid past him and into the bathroom he pointed at. 

There had to be some kind of a trick involved. Your brain was going a million miles a minute trying to comprehend why Travis was suddenly being nice to you, and why he’d offered you clothes so easily. He was never this nice to you. To the guys, sure, and to others, but never to you. Still, clothes were clothes and he was offering to get rid of the stains. You’d take whatever you could get. Plus, you thought as you slid into the sweatpants, they were super comfy and they smelled like Travis. As weird as it was, the smell was comforting. 

A swipe of the makeup remover across your eyes removed the last of your makeup, and then you felt almost like yourself again. Well, other than the fact that you’d apparently entered an alternate universe where Travis didn’t hate you. Travis was waiting on the bed when you exited the bathroom, swimming in his clothes. He smiled softly at the sight, and your stomach twisted slightly. That look was new. He wasn’t supposed to be looking at you in a nice way, so what the hell was going on? “Uh, Travis, you good?” Travis jerked when you spoke, literally shaking his head to focus again. It almost brought a laugh out of you. 

He took your clothes before you could protest and began backing towards the hallway. “So, uh, I’ll go put some stainstick on these and throw them in the washer. Everybody else is filtering out, and, uh, we can get you home once your clothes are clean?” Travis nodded to himself and took off, leaving you standing in the middle of his room confused. Why in the hell was the cockiest person on the planet nervous around you all of a sudden?

Madison poked her head in as you remained frozen in the same spot. She smirked when she saw the clothes you were wearing, and jerked her chin at you. “You good here with Trav? Ivan suddenly wants to get home really really badly.” She winked conspiratorially, and you laughed. 

“Go ahead. Have fun with your boy. I’ll be fine.” Madison giggled, and then she was gone. You began to step towards the door, tired of standing awkwardly in Travis’ room. The sound filtering down the hallway was noticeably quieter than it had been ten minutes before, and you weren’t shocked to see Nolan was the only person besides Travis still remaining in the apartment. 

Nolan stepped in your direction with bright red cheeks and a sheepish expression. “Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry.” You shook your head as if to say don’t worry about it, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I’m gonna go, but I just wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to. And if your shirt is ruined I’ll get you a new one, I promise.”

You chuckled, pulling the taller man in for a hug. “It’s okay, Nols. I know it was an accident.” He mumbled another apology into the top of your head. “I just had a really shitty day, and for whatever reason that’s what broke me.” Nolan made a sympathetic noise and ruffled your hair. Travis appeared from the kitchen to bro hug Nolan, and then it was just the two of you. You looked down at your feet, rocking onto your tiptoes awkwardly. There were no more buffers. It was just you and this newly friendly Travis. 

“So,” Travis said, “a really shitty day?” Footsteps came closer as you continued looking down at your feet, and then Travis’ sock-covered toes appeared in your view. “I promise I just wanna hear about it. No funny business.” 

His face looked serious when you finally looked up. It was the concern in his eyes that had you opening your mouth. “I co-own a coffee shop with my cousin. I think Madison has mentioned it before?” Travis nodded in recognition, and you continued. “I normally don’t do a whole bunch behind the counter, because I don’t have the disposition to deal with assholes. I’m more of a numbers person, and she’s the customer service queen. She was out sick today, so I had to work behind the counter. We had a PTA group come in for one of their cliquey gossip sessions today, and apparently I am completely incompetent and can’t make a cup of coffee worth a damn.” Travis winced accordingly. 

“And then,” you continued, all warmed up and ready to rant, “I finally get home after working from about 4am to 8pm, and my roommate and her fucking boyfriend were screaming at each other. Again. That’ll be about the fourth fucking time they’ve broken up this month. It’s only the 20th.” He was a cheating piece of shit, but your roommate didn’t want to see that. It was frustrating to no end.

“I called Madison to see if I could stay with her for the night, since my roommate and her boyfriend will probably be fucking all night, and instead she drags me here, where I get to deal with some hotshot hockey player that hates my fucking guts, and then Nolan dumps half a fucking bottle of wine on me and all of a sudden you’re being nice and I just really need a hug.” 

You were wound up, breathing a little heavily, and Travis looked shell-shocked. Suddenly he stepped closer, and for the second time that night you were wrapped up in Travis’ arms. “I don’t hate you.” He squeezed you a little tighter as he spoke, as if to emphasize his words. “You do intimidate the hell out of me though.” You leaned your forehead against his chest contentedly, chuckling a little bit. “Seriously. You’re all smart and sexy and you own a fucking business. I’ve always just wanted to be your friend, but you never got along with me like you did the other guys.”

His arms loosened slightly as you jerked back. “I never hated you. I thought you hated me.” Travis laughed, shaking his head in slight confusion. “So we could’ve been friends all along, we just thought the other person hated us?” You felt a smile creep up your face. Of course this would happen to you. 

Travis held out a hand. “Friends?”

You laughed, gripping his hand with one of your own. “Friends.”