#i hunted down my crush's number somehow and this is how i end up

[sikuthealien]

Blocking him and adding him to my favouites.... what the fuck am I on?

[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Return (part two)

AO3

PART ONE

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!

Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.

You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope. 

“Ah! I know what it is!”

Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so. 

You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.” 

Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.

Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.

Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.

“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.

The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.

“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.

He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long. 

Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop. 

“Are you in the market for a new job?”

–

Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.

It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.

You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.

You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.

His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared. 

Everyone was afraid of him.

Except you.

When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?

He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.

Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.

One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare. 

Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.

His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.

“How was your day?”

There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.

“Try me.”

Those words.

Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.

But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect. 

It made him want you that much more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.

You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.

The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”

You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”

A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.

Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.

Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.

You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.

The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more. 

One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.

“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.

He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention. 

At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.

–

All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now. 

He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt. 

Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone. 

Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.

Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market. 

He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics. 

“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”

Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.

The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.

Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.

Then he saw you.

You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets. 

You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size. 

Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.

You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.

Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.

His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.

Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.

The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.

He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.

Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.

As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes. 

“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat. 

“No,” Mando responded.

Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit. 

Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.

The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.

“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business. 

Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble. 

Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”

An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry. 

The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.

“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.” 

“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.

The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket. 

“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.

“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.

The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”

Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.

First task done. Second task on the horizon.

Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was. 

Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him. 

But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.

On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.

He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home? 

Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone. 

Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.

But if you said yes.

Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.

The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.

Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.

Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Clink. Shhhkt.

“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.

All business.

—

He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking. 

Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.

Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.

As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.

But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.

Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”

You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

Oh. Fuck. FUCK.

He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.

Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.

He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.

But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.

Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements. 

“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.” 

The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.

He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.

–

Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do. 

The brothels.

Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.

That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.

And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.

No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door. 

No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.” 

Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.

You would be banished from home.

The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.

Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.

–

Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.

But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner. 

Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.

The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right. 

A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.

Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.

One last stop. The bracelets.

Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another. 

The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.

A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.

The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.

His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays. 

Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection. 

Shit.

There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.

“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.

A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.

A good try, he thought.

“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.

“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.” 

She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.

“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street. 

The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register. 

Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.

“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet. 

“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.

The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.

$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE

Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.

He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag. 

“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.” 

The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”

–

Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.

Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout. 

Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.

Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings. 

The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.

He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.

He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.

Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.

–

You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.

“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.

Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.

He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence. 

The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.

You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.

After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.

No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.

“Good night, cyar'ika.”

You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.

You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.

The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.

“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.

There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.

“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.

You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.

Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.

Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.

Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator. 

“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.

“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway. 

Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again. 

He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.

“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.

“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.

“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.

Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze. 

“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”

Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.

“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?” 

Kriff it.

“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”

Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something. 

He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.

He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.

The bracelet from the market.

“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.

You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”

“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.

“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy. 

“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.

Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact. 

Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.

“This means everything to me.”

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

[starstruckodysseys]

hello it is time for me to bother you with my paranormal/ghost hunting/detective kids!!

incorrect quotes edition

bianca: in scooby doo, secret tunnels are always behind shelves and shit

taylor: could we not base our decisions around what does and doesn’t happen in episodes of scooby doo?

-

bianca: *beatboxing*

lillian: uh- my name’s lillian and im here to say, we’re the best ghost hunters in the usa-

*ghost makes a spooky noise*

lillian: wh-

bianca: *still beatboxing*

lillian: hang on, we have to get a response! uh- stop beatboxing!

-

taylor: wait a minute! we don’t go toward the weird, scary sound!

lillian: yeah, we do. we always do

taylor: *sighs* i really hate that about us

-

elijah: date a boy who forgives you for your past

sam: date a boy who disregards your cracker barrel arson charge

bianca: date a boy who was your accomplice in the cracker barrel arson

-

dani: i’m leaving for a few days, taylor’s in charge. i’ve left notes for each of you with instructions

lillian: mine just says “lillian, don’t”

dani: and i want you to apply that to every possible situation

-

sam: every conversation i have with you guys gets more and more absurd

elijah: you say “you guys” like you aren’t part of the group. well i’ve got news for you, pal. you’re already on the christmas card

- character descriptions under the cut this is a long ass post

anyway they were not initially for my murder mystery/etc thing i have going on in my google docs lmao

bianca’s the main character. she thinks ghosts and supernatural stuff are all complete bullshit, but she is a bored teenager with enough determination and spite that when kids start going missing, she decides she has to be the one to get to the bottom of it. also she’s bi + ace :)

lillian’s her best friend slash partner in crime slash platonic soulmate. she’s the believer to bianca’s skeptic, but she would actually kill a man to see a ghost. uh, no pun intended. she’s witty and sarcastic, but really does love her friends, even if she doesn’t show it. on top of being the number one ghost stan, she’s also the head of the newspaper club, and she’s always on the lookout for a scoop, so this is the perfect opportunity for her. she’s trans and a lesbian!!

taylor’s the other part of this detective trio but not the third friend of one thank you very much. he’s a believer, too, but more in the way that he thinks a ghost could kill him, so he’s terrified of them. he has issues with emotion, and he argues with lillian a lot, but he really is a sweetheart. when his crush makes a dare to go down to the supposedly-haunted boiler room and never returns, he pushes aside his paranormal fears and cracks down on the case. he’s trans + bi!

elijah’s a soccer star and one of the only decent popular kids… and also taylor’s crush. he’s a closet theatre nerd, too, but despite the rumors the theatre is haunted he’s a skeptic. not that that stops him from pretending to be a believer - which ends up being the thing that throws the entire school into chaos, anyway, since he’s impulsive and bold enough to risk a bet to go into the haunted boiler room, but never ends up returning. fucking loser (i love him). he’s gay!

dani’s the president of the environmental club and dear god just needs a break. she’s caring, the single braincell of the group, and nearly always tired from the ongoing shenanigans, but also always ready to lend a hand. she’s not exactly a believer, though not exactly a skeptic, either, believing that there’s no real proof either way, and she doesn’t exactly have time to think about ghosts, anyway. she’s an aroace icon!!

sam’s the school’s resident cryptid. it’s not that he isn’t there, he just lurks in the back, showing up places he probably shouldn’t be, and somehow always seems to know things. things he… shouldn’t know, really. no one knows how he does. he has a dry sense of humor - and speaking in general, really - that scares people off until you get to know him better. he’s bi!

hailey’s… not in any of these quotes and honestly not overall super important to the story (as of now), but she’s the girl’s swim team captain and student council vice president and definitely has her apples in way too many baskets. she’s a literal ray of sunshine, the absolute sweetest person you’ll ever meet, and the holder of the biggest case of comphet this world has ever seen. she’s a lesbian, if that isn’t clear enough.

[pennylanewrites]

Hey! If yiu still write for Saiki K can I request a Saiki x reader fluff one shot where the reader's toxic ex is bothering them and won't leave them alone and saiki comfortable the reader and takes care of the ex? I love your writing so much!

sorry it took me so long to write this anon! hope you like it <3

cw: implied past abuse, toxic ex, mentions of stalking, kusuo acts like a normal human being around his crush

word count: around 0.8k

both reader and their ex’s gender aren’t mentioned(uses they/them pronouns)

It was honestly so tiring. Having to change your number every few months, always walking home with at least one person, throwing frightened looks behind you like a crazy person. But who could blame you when that weirdo followed you around like a wolf hunting his meal?

Your routine was mostly home to school then right back home for months, until your friends talked you into going to karaoke with them one night. Everyone from your class will be there, so why the hell not? So you put on your new clothes, secretly hoping that the pinkette you had a stupidly huge crush on would finally pay attention to you.

And he did. But he didn’t notice your nice new clothes, or the new, fresh smell of your shampoo. Kusuo had noticed all of those things long ago, before you even considered him. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t bitter that you never paid attention to him, but he couldn’t blame you because he acted like the most snobby person around you and your friends.

This time, instead of noticing how your hair bounced on your head as you sang with Aren and Mikoto, he noticed the person dragging you outside of the karaoke bar, he noticed the way your voice was shaky, how your thoughts went to the most foul things possible.

Kusuo didn’t want to bring unwanted attention to himself, but he had to. For your sake. So he went outside, searching for you. His heart skipped a beat when you were nowhere to be found, until a small sob breaks through your pursed lips, making him look down.

‘Did they hurt you?’ He asked, making you look up at him with wide-blown eyes.

“Oh, hey Saiki. Everything is fine, I’m just having a bad day.” You assured him, not bothering to get up from the cold gravel as more tears ran down your face.

‘Wait here, I’ll be back.’ He leaves without expecting an answer, though you still nod slowly, watching him turn around the corner from where your ex had left.

“Yeah, man. I totally have them wrapped around my fi-can I help you?” The person slowly put their phone back to their pocket, taking a step back from Kusuo.

‘Don’t talk to them again.’

“What’s a little kid like you gonna do, huh?” Your ex snickered, but their laugh was cut short when Kusuo fixed his glasses, looking up at him with a borderline sadistic smile.

‘I hate getting my hands dirty, but...’ With a sigh, Kusuo raised his fist, landing a perfect punch on their nose bridge, hard enough to break it and leave them clutching their face desperately.

The punch had somehow felt satisfying for Kusuo, almost liberating, but the small smile on his face vanished when he returned to the bar and you were still sobbing. Contemplating whether he should or not, he ended up sitting next to you on the ground, softly poking your arm to catch your attention.

“Oh, where did you go?”

‘Nowhere important.’

“Cool. Do you want to go back inside?” You motioned at the door before wiping a few leftover tears away from your cheeks.

‘I think you should get some more air. If you want, I can call Aiura-’

“No, wait.” You clutched on the sleeve of his pastel green sweater, making him turn to look at you. He wasn’t used to touching, he always did everything he could to prevent it, but this time he just let it happen. It wouldn’t hurt anyone. “Can you stay with me? If you don’t have to go back in...”

‘No, I would rather stay here.’ He admitted, facing away from you, eyes fixating on a flower box across the street.

“I’d rather you stay with me too.” You mumbled, your head falling on his shoulder.

‘Do you need a hug?’

“Please...” Your whisper almost left with the blowing wind, but Kusuo heard you loud and clear. He brought his arms around your waist, locking your hands inside his arms as well, only allowing you to turn your torso to the side to face him. You let a few tears slip and stain his sweater, though you somehow felt relieved. Like your ex was just a bitter memory that was ready to leave your brain for good. Maybe it was the soothing caresses of Kusuo’s hands on your back, or his pink hair tickling your cheek, but you knew for sure you hadn’t felt that warmth before. And you would die to feel it again, if it came from Kusuo.

[jortsaaaaaaart]

To Be Forgotten Amongst Friends chp1

Omega! Reader x avengers

Hello all! I revamped my story "ikaros" and this is the new story! Also the name is long rip.

Trigger warnings (later chapters mostly)- ptsd, noncon, kidnapping, human experimentation, Stockholm and lima syndrome

The following chapters will be posted on- https://archiveofourown.org/works/33890977     (seriously- may not post here that often cause i hate the tagging system- go check out ao3)

It's a beautiful day in New York and you're a terrible, no good, thief. 

You were considered New York’s very own Robin Hood. Two hundred ATM robberies in two years, the money flying out of the machines and into the hands of people who needed it. The banks, collectively, had lost over $300,000 from the ATMs alone. But of course, it wasn't just the ATMs. A rash of robberies had spread over the East coast. Most were digital, companies funneling their own money to offshore accounts that wanted nothing to do with U.S. intervention. The FBI were notified, then the CIA, and eventually- after a daring cyber attack against the DOD- SHIELD itself turned it's one eyed gaze onto you.

Nick Fury saw something the other agencies didn't. You had certain gifts that made your line of work incredibly easy. Whether they were natural mutations or some sort of superpower, they allowed you to break into some of the most secure networks known to man. He had almost found you when SHIELD fell and his resources vanished. After the dust cleared he was forced to start from scratch. Hunting you and the remnants of Hydra down at the same time wasn't easy, but, in a strange twist of fate, he found someone else that was searching for you too.

+++

New York was filled with so many people. Most of them were good, in your opinion. (Well, maybe half, actually.) You spent most of your off time working on "projects" or walking around the city. You had become a fixture at the local Bodega. Single omegas were extremely  rare, marked single omegas were almost unheard of. The mark gave you certain freedoms other omegas, sadly, didn't have. It drove away most potential suitors and the ones who were particularly bold would be given a taste of your powers. Once the burrow had gotten used to your presence they saw you as a generous person, but a secretive one. Someone who took no shit even with their designation. You gave to the community and different Omega rights groups in the area. After years of watching you quietly go about helping people you had been welcomed into the burrow's heart with open arms.

You loved helping people in your own way. You loved it just as much as you hated corporations and the police, but when you could make an ATM spew it's contents out into the poorest streets of Brooklyn or make Fox News send a million dollars to Planned Parenthood, you could have the best of both worlds.

At least, for a time. All good things had to end, right? That's what you told yourself as the redhead picked her way through the crowd towards you. 

Seeing an avenger in your neighborhood was an odd occurrence. It was a poorer part of town, untouched in the battle of New York, and too out of the way for any super villain origin stories. In fact, you seemed to be the only mutant in the entire block. You'd always thought, if someone was going to come for you, it would be a couple of FBI agents and not the fucking Black Widow. Your brain and heart went into overdrive as you tried to remember doing anything worth the avenger's time. But there was nothing. The DOD hack had been almost a year ago and all you did was release government files showing attacks on civilians overseas. It hardly seemed like an avengers worthy crime, especially when Black Widow herself had leaked government secrets before.

Any hope of her not not looking for you was dashed when her eyes locked onto yours. She tilted her head, asking a silent question. 

The burst of adrenaline sent you careening through the lunchtime crowds. You couldn't feel anyone on the rooftops but there was a large form blocking your path, trying to box you in. They were stronger and faster but you knew the environment. You ducked into Charlie's, your sneakers skidding on the asphalt as you took the sharp turn. The person behind the counter lazily looked up as you walked to the back. They knew you well enough to not care, they also weren't paid enough to care. The alley would open up into a busy side street. More people meant a better chance to blend in and get away. You were almost to the end when the door opened behind you. Black Widow and fucking Captain America stepped into the alley. For a moment the three of you stood in something akin to a standoff. 

You felt wildly undressed for this life-threatening situation.

"We just want to talk, (Y/N)" Captain America told you, hands raised. The unmistakable stink of an alpha radiated from the captain. You were momentarily thankful for your mark dulling its effect on you. Though, the blonde's scent was tinged with something hauntingly familiar. Something you didn't want to recognize.

Behind him, Black widow's free hand went to her ear. "Target is in the alley between 31st and 32nd," A twitch of your finger and the line went dead. Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip.

"I'm feeling pretty under equipped for this 'conversation'," You replied, slowly raising your hands as well, wondering if they could feel what you were doing. They didn't react and you slowly let your power seep from you.

Natasha was the first to react, drawing her gun and spinning around. Steve looked at her with confusion as her wide eyes scanned the alley as if she was seeing ghosts. She was afraid he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He moved towards her and you took off running. You felt him hesitate then take off after you, gaining on you with an embarrassingly low number of strides. You tried your powers again, stronger this time, but his focus was unwavering. He was almost to you now and you were running out of options. That’s when the alpha in him came out.

“Omega!” He snarled, “Stop!” Your feet slowed down immediately. It wasn’t as strong as your own alpha’s command would be, but the super soldier certainly commanded respect and obedience. You were forced to stand still, eyes burning holes in the asphalt, as the alpha’s footsteps grew closer. You really didn't want to do this but it looked like you had no choice. Your jaw clenched, and you spun around when his hand grabbed your arm. The blonde's eyes widened as you placed a palm to his chest. 

He barely had time to glance down at your hand before the electricity hit him.

The 1,000 volts you sent into him were supposed to stun him or send him flying, allowing you to escape. However, his muscles spasmed just a bit stronger than you intended. In an instant his grip crushed the bones in your arm and sent the two of you careening backwards into a brick wall. Natasha would find you a moment later, passed out on top of the super soldier, a sizable hole in the wall.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a few blurry white shapes milled about in the corners of your vision. You couldn't remember how you got here, or where here was. All your senses seemed to be dulled. Your wrist was throbbing and each time you opened your eyes the room came in and out of focus. You closed your eyes, opting to ignore the funhouse effect and focus on the sounds around you. The beeping of the monitors, footsteps on concrete, and two low voices.

"She's alright, Buck, I promise." Steve's voice wavered in and out of your consciousness bringing with it the memory of how you got into this bed. "She did something to Nat and ran before I could explain. I wasn't expecting her powers to be so strong."

"I should have come with you," Another voice snarled. Your heart skipped a beat at the low growl. You knew that voice. It evoked a sickening combination of need and terror and you couldn't remember why. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had. What idiot doesn't know omegas are fragile?!"

"It was an accident!" His voice raised slightly before sighing. "I know you're worried, but she's fine."

The scent you had smelled on Steve earlier swirled around the room. Metal and burning pine, it affected you just like the voice had, triggering both panic and yearning. You knew it somehow. The memory was there somewhere, tucked away where it couldn’t hurt you. Where it should have been forgotten.

The scent grew unbearably strong as he leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back he wasn't expecting his eyes to catch yours. 

His expression softened as soon as he realized you were awake. "Omega," Bucky whispered reverently. Stormy blue eyes stared down at you with love and adoration, watching the color drain from your face. "Doll?" 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear the panicked beeping of the machines and Steve trying to calm you down. But it didn't matter. All that you could feel was the need to get far, far, away from this man. You didn't know how you knew him but you knew he was dangerous. You knew he had hurt you. That's why, as he reached out to gently cup your face, you slapped his hand away. 

"Get away from me!" You gasped, voice breaking. You scooted back and tried to back up as far as possible. Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you slid off the bed. Pure terror coursed through your veins, it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You found yourself pressed into the corner of the room while the men stared at you in shock. Steve and Bucky gaped like you had just told them the Germans had actually won WWII. Eyebrows knit together, blue eyes wide and frantic, Bucky looked like he was in emotional turmoil.

“(Y/N), doll, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s your alpha.” Bucky reached out to you carefully as a low purr rumbled from his chest.

You felt the purr relax you and dull your senses even more. It was nauseating. “I don’t have an alpha! And I don’t know who the hell you are!” You tried to shout and grit your teeth but the words came out in broken sobs, betraying your weakness. Who was this? Why was he the most terrifying thing you had ever seen?

Your teeth were bared at this point but the man kept coming towards you. The tunnel vision and rapid shallow breaths were the only warnings your body gave you as it reverted to its animalistic omega framework. Bucky watched as, in slow motion, your eyes went blank as your body gave out. 

+++

Your alpha held your body to his chest in disbelief. He had expected some shock at seeing him but this went far beyond his expectations. It had been over three years since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last been able to drink in your scent. He'd figured you might not recognize him at first. He had changed a lot over the years. No longer under Hydra's control his physical appearance, demeanor, and scent had changed. But your body should've known your alpha. 

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Why did she react like that when she has your mark?" The two alphas were on edge. Seeing a vulnerable omega drop triggered their protective instincts. Steve desperately wanted to take you and hold you close, ease you out of the drop. If the alpha holding you was anyone other than his closest friend and packmate he would have ripped you out of his grasp immediately. For now he'd have to hold himself back.

"She didn't remember me." Bucky nuzzled his head into your neck, nursing your mark softly. After a moment he pulled back and gazed at your unchanged features. He couldn't wake you from this drop that easily. He pressed in harder this time, teeth lining up with the scar perfectly, but there was still no change. No purr, command, or bite was waking you up.

"We should let her rest, Buck. The pain meds will wear off soon and we'll try again. . . Bring her to the den. She'll need to get used to everyone's scents sooner or later." Steve laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. It was a gentle but firm suggestion. He knew tensions were high, the den, with it's heavy curtains and plush blankets, would calm down his friend and the omega. With little argument the brunette lifted you up and carried you to the den. It was aptly named and extremely well constructed thanks to Stark. Curtains blocked off all light from the windows, mattresses were inlaid into the ground, and the temperature was always cool. It was one good thing about being in a pack with that narcissist, Bucky thought dryly.

Steve led them into a cozy corner of the room. The captain hummed happily as they moved the pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the three of them. The feeling of the omega pressing into his chest was addictive. He couldn't wait for you to remember your alpha.

The sooner you remembered your bond with Bucky the sooner the rest of the pack, Steve included, could court you.

[glowingbadger]

Can you write Fem!Reader that Felix is crushing on falls asleep on him on the couch and he gets all flustered.

Awww precious flustered Felix, how lovely~

Felix (FE3H) x Fem Reader - fluff, SFW

Numbers and letters start to wander and blur on the page before you. Keeping your head upright is challenge enough, but the struggle to wrestle this information into something cogent and actionable is positively draining. When you'd offered to help with the next batch of supply reorder forms, you hadn't quite realized how involved they would be- and after a day of marching and training and memorizing mapped strategies, the greatest battle you face now is against your heavy eyelids. At least you'd found a quiet corner of the library to settle onto a well-worn couch while you work. Try to work, at least.

"There you are."

You glance up over the parchment at the familiar voice, then smile- perhaps a little too earnestly.

"Hi Felix. Sorry, were you looking for me?"

He scoffs, a light pink dusting across his fair complexion.

"No, you just- you left this at the training grounds." he holds out a scrap of fabric, which you take. It's only a cheap handkerchief, hardly worth hunting someone down over. You smile and tuck it away for the time being.

"Thanks Felix, and sorry for the trouble."

He doesn't respond at first, but his narrowed gaze seems to be scrutinizing you intently. You try to think of some way to break the silence, but he sets himself down on the couch beside you before you've come up with any ideas. He leans close, his brow creased.

"You look awful."

You give an awkward half-laugh, your papers near forgotten in your lap,

"Thanks- you're a real sweet talker, you know. Has Sylvain been giving you lessons?"

Felix scoffs and sits back on the cushions, crossing his arms,

"That's not what I meant and you know it. You're pushing yourself too hard, and you look like you're about to fall over."

It's honestly sweet, albeit in a very Felix-way. You smile warmly at him, which he appears to intentionally ignore. Then, you shrug and say,

"Well, I offered to help, so I have to do my best."

With a sigh, Felix grumbles,

"Give me something to do to help you. I won't sit here and watch you waste away from being overly-charitable."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I'm offering," he says with a scowl, "stop being so difficult."

He's avoiding your gaze like he always does when he's nice to you, and you smile sheepishly.

"Here," you say, handing over a small stack of papers, "These are the ones I've already filled out- can you review them to make sure I didn't screw anything up? That way I won't have to spend the time double checking them."

He sets to work without a word, and you continue with the forms you'd set on your lap. The two of you work together in comfortable silence, though you'll admit to a brief flutter in your chest at the occasional brush of physical contact as you sit side by side. You mentally scold yourself for getting worked up over something so silly. Surely Felix would scoff if he knew such trivial contact could distract you so thoroughly. He's shy about emotional matters, sure, but you've no doubt that he thinks little of just sitting together.

And you're, frankly, completely wrong. Felix feels like his skin is scorched with a hot iron every time your bodies touch. Focusing on the task in front of him takes every ounce of discipline he can muster, and even then, his pulse speeds when your arm brushes his. He hates it, and he hates that he seeks it out, anxiously waits for the next opportunity to feel you there beside him.

It's at least another hour before the end of the paperwork seems near. Just a little longer, Felix thinks, and he'll make sure you've eaten something and that you reach your quarters safely. His brow lowers. He doesn't need to do all of that- you're an adult and can take care of yourself. But... he hadn't seen you at the dining hall that night, and you really should at least eat. If he finishes before you do, perhaps he'll go get you something. Ugh, no, that's the kind of unnecessary gesture Sylvain would do to get on someone's good side. Felix doesn't need to get on your good side. He just wants you near at all. For some reason.

He dares to glance over to you, but then his frown only deepens. You're slightly slumped, your eyes have fluttered shut, even though your hands still grip one last checklist in your lap. You sway just slightly. You're leaning forward on the couch. Felix's hand bolts out just in time to nudge you back, but as a result, your body slackens towards him until you're resting fully on his shoulder. His eyes widen, and he can feel his face burning. He opens his mouth to protest at first, but somehow, he can't bring himself to make a sound.

You breathe deeply and nuzzle against him, and his heart feels ready to pound straight through his chest. His body goes stiff from head to toe, unwilling to move even an inch as you lean on him. He glances down at the paper's he'd been reviewing, but suddenly it's utter nonsense to him. How can he think straight with the warmth of your body against his, the scent of your hair, your steady breath along his shoulder and even brushing his neck.

Calm yourself already, he scolds himself, she can't just sleep like this- just get the work done and-

And what? Wake you up? The thought doesn't please him in the slightest. You obviously need your rest, or he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. Then, the only thing to do is...

How much time had passed? Had you ever finished all those forms? You can't possibly discern the answer to either of the first questions that enter your mind as you toe the edge of consciousness. You must be more tired than even you realized. You feel like you're floating, and some wonderful scent is circling your senses- something earthy and masculine and... familiar.

"Relax, I'm just bringing you to your room," he says, his voice gentler than you've ever heard it, "Go back to sleep- you need your rest. I've got you."

Your eyes flutter open. You look up, and see Felix. You're in his arms- he's carrying you out of the library. What in the world is going on??

All you manage is a sleepy little groan.

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 13 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: Just a casual catch-up.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I don't even know what's happening with Kathryn anymore. Guess it's all going "downhill" from here. Don't get mad! It'll be better soon, I promise! ;)

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn

Playlist! :)

_____________________________________________________________________________

A couple days pass before you get another sign of life from Kathryn. It's the weekend again and you are lying on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Alex is talking away on FaceTime, currently ranting about something that happened at her workplace earlier this week. She always does that, lets people walk over her and then complains about it to you.

You are just about to sit up and shut her down to make her stand up for herself more as a mail comes in. For a moment, you are confused, as you have never read the mail address it is coming from before. Still, you immediately open it to read through, a move that doesn't go unnoticed by Alex, who has stopped talking by now. 

"What is it?" She asks, looking rather concerned.

You are unsure what to say and talk as you read the mail. "Hmmmmmm, OH. Oh it's from Kathryn! Oh this took me way too long. But, you know, if all those "a prince from god knows where wants to send you money"-mails I wasn't sure what to expect." Both of you laugh as you read on.

Just as always, Alex is the perfect example of a nosy neighbor. "What does it saaaay? Don't keep me in the dark, ma'am!", she says and grins into the camera. Nearly done reading, you look up and shoot her an annoyed look. As a joke, obviously, but really, Alex needs to calm down sometimes. You reread the mail and prepare to summarize it for the both of you.

Essentially, Kathryn is simply talking about how she had broken her phone on the way to Europe as they made their way through the airport and spent a couple days hunting down your e-mail address to reach out to you again. She doesn't have a new phone just yet, because she took it as a chance to dive into the script and prepare for the shooting, but feels like it's about time she updates and checks in on you. Furthermore, to really focus on the movie, she decided to not cope the numbers from her old phone just now. Instead, she got a completely new, empty phone and only handed out her number to a handful of people, so she can really be one with the project.

It takes a while for you to understand that this means you are special to her and she chose you out of (probably) a lot of people to stay in contact with. If it wasn't for Alex, you would probably fall into a hole now and over analyze if this means more or not, but she interrupts your train of thought, as always.

"Isn't that just SO Kathryn? Like, I can totally see her sitting there, choosing not to have a phone so she can read her scripts in peace and become her character. That's how passionate she is, ugh, I love her."

Usually, you would agree and say you love her, too, but as of lately you can't bring yourself to say these words out loud anymore, since they feel way too intimate considering the relationship you have formed with Kathryn over the last couple of weeks. So, instead of saying anything, you simply nod and read the mail again before typing the number she provided you with into your phone.

A part of you is very happy about the mail and Kathryn's update, but you have to admit that there is also a part of you that wishes she would've said something about missing you. You miss her,  mentally and physically. You miss her touch and her warmth and, thinking about it for a little too long, you miss what kissing her lips feels like. And you miss how her hair feels on your skin as she bends over you. If you're being honest, you simply miss everything about her.

Alex seems to sense your thoughts and breaks the silence. "You miss her, don't you?"

You don't want to think about it any deeper as you can feel some tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Instead, you just nod as you bite the inside of your lower lip, holding them back.

"You know, Y/N. You should tell her. I am really sure she misses you, too. Like, in THAT way. If you tell me everything that happens between the two of you at all times, then I'm pretty sure she is in love with you, too, you know?" "I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH HER!", you suddenly jump and get way louder than you meant to be. Or are you? Hell, you don't even know anymore. Fact is, Kathryn is gone and won't be back for a while and there is no way for you to change that and that is why you shouldn't dwell into those feelings because after all you'll just get hurt anyway.

You decide to shoot a quick message to the number Kathryn provided you with and let her know you read the mail and hope she is doing alright. Also you can't help but tell her how incredibly boring life is without her - could be seen as you telling her you miss her, but doesn't have to be read that way if she doesn't want it.

Alex finally rants about work a little longer before you decide to watch a movie together since it's getting late on her end and you usually spend your Sundays watching a movie or two, whenever both of you are available. 

It takes Kathryn until around noon the next day to answer your message and she seems rather stressed, as it simply reads "Let's catch up tonight! x", as if she didn't even get to finish typing it all out. Excited for the night, you plan out the rest of the day and secretly hope she will acknowledged any kind of feelings she might have in any way, so you can finally talk it all out. 

You're sitting outside in your mom's garden in between all of her flowers on a comfy garden bench as the call comes in and decide to take it with your computer that is placed on the garden table beside you. This way, you can sit and act more comfortably and can grab a blanket or pillow with your hands instead of holding onto your phone.

"Hiya Hon! I missed your face!" Kathryn speaks in excitement as her wide grin fills the screen. She is also taking the call with a computer, as she is just putting her phone away when she sees you.

You smile softly and a warm fuzzy feeling makes itself at home in your body. „Hey Kathryn.. you look beautiful tonight, as always.“

Kathryn blushes as a cheeky smile plays along her lips and makes herself comfortable on the couch that's placed next to the hotel room window. You can see the last couple of sunrays cradling her face as she leans back and the sun hits her features through the open window. She is wearing a white loose shirt and a thin golden necklace is resting around her neck. Her fingers caress the cold metal as she looks at you, softly biting the right side of her lover lip.

„How are you doing, Sweetie?“ she says and you don’t know what to reply. You want to tell her that you miss her - more than just physically -, you want to tell her that she is occupying your thoughts and dreams and that you want to be with her and how it crushes you that she isn’t with you right now. Yet, something is holding you back, because somehow, you feel like she needs to be the one to bring it up first.

Your breath hitches as she does. „I miss you, honey.“

Your heart is racing and you can feel it beating in your throat in anticipation of what she might say next. „I miss sitting with you and laughing, yeah, but I also really miss kissing you. I can’t believe we don’t get to do that for such a long time.“ She groans.

Yeah. That. Of course she misses that. You sink back into the couch, slightly disappointed, but at the same time - what did you expect?

She notices. „Is everything alright, Love?“ she seems worried.

„Yeah! I’m good. It’s just been a rough week and not being able to sit and, you know, spent time with you just seems wrong.“ You’re not lying.

She nods. „It does. You’re right.“

„I know.“ For a moment, both of you fall silent, caught up in your thoughts. Kathryn is still playing with her necklace, as she is lying on the couch in a very relaxed position with her foot propped up and, all of a sudden, looks absolutely heartbroken.

You can’t stand to see her like this and decide to change the topic. You sit up straight again. „So… HOW IS IT? Tell me all about it! The set, the project, YOUR COLLEAGUES and like… I know you can’t really tell me anything, but like… TELL ME EVERYTHING.“

Her laughter fills the room. You did it, you made both of you happy. „Alright, well. It seems to be a very suspenseful movie and the cast is just great. Lots of people my age but also a couple young ones that remind me of you,“ she winks. „I enjoy working here very much so far.“

Speaking about other people has your attention, so you decide to dig deeper. „So, they all treat you like the Queen you are.“

She waves it off. „Oh SHUSH. You are crazy. Although… you are not wrong, all of them treat me very well.“ 

A small smile plays around her lips and, for a moment, you wonder why, but she is already changing the topic. “We’re actually going out for dinner in the upcoming week. I am very excited. It’s gonna be just a couple of us, but, you know me, I love connecting with the others. Bouncing off ideas and all.”

You nod. You DO know her. “That sounds amazing Kathryn! I am beyond excited for you.”

In the distance, you can hear thunder and see the clouds getting darker. Looking back at her, you catch her yawning. “Hey you? It’s getting stormy out here," You look around you again. "I think there’s a storm coming.”

“OH NO.” She mumbles, before she yawns again.

“ALSO,” you try to get her attention back. “You, ma’am, seem to be pretty tired tonight.”

Forcefully keeping her eyes open, she scans your face. “NEVER. I am never tired. I always go to bed late.” She laughs.

“Kathryn…” you really don’t want to be a literal mom in front of her again, but she doesn’t actually leave you a choice.

“I KNOW, I know,” she laughs. “I had a night shoot last night and I think I can finally feel the aftermath.” She yawns again. This time, you yawn with her. “See, you’re tired, too, and I can actually hear AND see the storm approaching behind you. I need you to stay save and get inside.”

You nod, already grabbing the things you put on your table. “Don’t go silent on me again, yeah?”

“I promise I won’t.” She says and you believe her.

“Alright then, good night, K.” Kathryn smiles at the nickname.

“Sleep well, Y/N. And again, text me anytime, promise I'll be there as soon as I can.” And with that, all good byes are said and you immediately close your computer and storm inside after hanging up as the first raindrops hit you.

The storm is starting to get heavier and the incoming rain is now hitting the windows hard as the thunder rolls in - a perfect representation of your thoughts and feelings piling up inside of you.

[deascheck]

Midterm Surprise

Midterms

Ask: “How - how did you find me?”

Word Count: 1922

Warnings: smut

A/N: This is one of my first DeanxReader fics… would love feedback on whether or not I captured his personality! Though they aren't really an item... ?? @flamencodiva I hope it's everything you were wanting! I'm a novice to writing smut so I hope it's ok! *crosses fingers*

You sighed. You could not believe you’d made it through your three hour lecture class. Somehow, you’d stayed awake, though you could not say the same for everyone in the class. You looked around. About every fifth person was still asleep. You chuckled tiredly. I can’t blame them, now can I? I wanted to do the exact same thing. You picked up your laptop and notebook and stuffed them in your backpack.

Maybe I’ll go to my favorite diner to study for midterms, you thought. I deserve a fucking treat after getting through this goddamn class.

You walked to the parking lot and got into your 1967 Chevy Camaro. You loved your car. She was your pride and joy and you called her Baby. Not unlike a certain hero who’d saved you from a werewolf a couple years back. His car was similar to yours, a 1967 Chevy Impala. A real beauty. He called her Baby, too. You smiled at the memory. Damn, was Dean proud of that car. Dean had gone on his way, but not before the two of you had spent the night together making memories neither of you were likely to forget.

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present. You drove across town to your favorite hole in the wall diner, a quaint little 24/7 diner where the workers all knew you by name.

You hauled your backpack onto your back and walked in.

“Hey, Joy! Hey, Dave! How’s it goin’ today?” you asked.

Joy and Dave smiled at you as you sat down at the counter. “It’s goin even better now that you’re here, Y/N! It’s been a couple weeks! Where ya been hiding?” replied Joy, the waitress who was standing by your seat.

‘Oh you know, it’s midterms comin’ up, and all. Gotta study so I can get those A’s!” you said.

Dave laughed. “Ohhh midterms. I don’t miss those,” he stated. “I know I’ve only been out of college for a couple years, but damn I don’t miss it!”

Joy nudged you. “Your usual?”

You grinned. “Yes m’am! I gotta be fully nourished to study for this stupid Psychology class. I thought I’d love Psychology,” you added. “But having it in a three hour lecture format just blows.”

Thirty minutes later, you were deeply engrossed in lecture notes and flashcards. You were so busy studying, you didn’t hear the bell ring as the door opened. You were looking at your flashcards in your lap, and all of a sudden noticed a pair of worn boots standing close to you. Offended, you brought your head up to tell the guy off for invading your space when your words stopped dead in your throat. A brown-haired, green-eyed, devilishly handsome man was smirking back at you.

“D-Dean! Oh my god! How- how did you find me?” You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“You’re assuming I was looking for you sweetheart,” he retorted. “Just kiddin’. Sammy and I are in town for a hunt. I dropped him off at the morgue and was looking for a bite to eat when I saw your Baby. I’d recognize that car anywhere. I figured I’d stop in here and give you a hard time,” he said with a glint in his eye.

“A hard time, eh?” you said. “I see. Well, I’m in the middle of studying for my Psychology midterm. Would you care to join me?”

Dean’s smirk turned into a smile when you didn’t turn him down, and he replied, “Darlin’, I’d love to.”

An hour later, Dean was quizzing you with your flashcards when his phone rang.

“Sammy, what’s up? …. Uh-huh. Ok. … Yeah, I’ll be right there. Gimme 10 minutes.”

Dean looked at you regretfully. “Well, sweetheart, I’ve gotta go pick up Sammy from the morgue. It was really nice seein’ you.” He looked at you with something almost like hope in his eyes.

You knew you couldn’t let this opportunity pass you up. “Umm… I don’t suppose you’d want to meet up later?” you asked.

Dean grinned broadly. “Here’s my number. Text me your address and we’ll figure somethin’ out,” he said. He grabbed your hand and wrote his number on the back of it. Winking at you, Dean stood up and headed for the door. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he called over his shoulder.

As soon as he left, you texted him your address. “Meet me at 7pm,” your next text said.

You realized it was almost five and panicked. You had to clean up the apartment, shower, and find something suitable to wear for Dean when he arrived.

You drove home in record time and instantly went about putting laundry away, putting dishes in the dishwasher, and picking up school papers and tidying them. You then took a quick shower and chose your best pair of lingerie, hoping your night with Dean would end steamy. Over your dark red lace panties and bra, you put yoga pants and a loose t-shirt that hung over one shoulder. Just as you finished getting dressed, the doorbell rang.

You took a deep breath. This is it, you thought. Here goes nothing. You swung the door open to find Dean standing there about to knock. He smiled at you. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Hey stranger,” you managed back. Why was he so handsome? He was in a red shirt, with dark jeans and boots. He’d clearly run his hands through his hair in an attempt to smooth it.

Stepping back, you let him into your apartment. He took his shoes off and followed you to the kitchen. “Drink?” you asked.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he answered. “Thanks.”

You got out a bottle of whiskey and two whiskey glasses. You poured a couple fingers and handed him his drink. Drinking was not what was on your mind though, as you stared at him from under your lashes.

He shifted in his seat at the kitchen table and said, “If you keep looking at me like that, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” His pupils were blown, lust filling his eyes.

You sidled to his lap and straddled him. “Maybe I don’t want you to be,” you said seductively.

With that, he pulled you flush against him and began to heatedly kiss you, his soft lips crushed against yours. As you kissed, you could feel a bulge building in his pants, and as your tongues fought for dominance in each other’s mouths, you brought one hand down from his hair and began to palm his erection through his jeans.

He moaned against your mouth and bucked his hips. You grinned into the kiss and suddenly Dean was slapping your ass. You jerked, surprised, but it turned you on, and the heat that was already pooling between your legs became more intense. You needed friction. You started grinding against him. The two of you were breathing raggedly, grinding against each other like teenagers.

All of a sudden, Dean growled. “Enough of this. Where is your room?” He stood up with you wrapping your legs around his waist and you murmured, “Down the hall to the right,” as you kissed his neck and sucked on his earlobe. Dean groaned as he walked. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

You could feel Dean’s erection and you wanted nothing more than to take it in your mouth and get him off. But Dean had other plans for you. His hands were grabbing your shirt, ripping it over your head and throwing it across the room. His face darkened with lust when he saw your red lace bra and he eagerly pulled your pants down to your ankles, where you stepped out of them. Dean stepped back for a minute, admiring you in your lingerie before closing the gap between you and smashing his lips against yours, his hands coming up behind you and unclasping your bra. It fell between the two of you and Dean brought one of his hands back around and started fondling your breast. He massaged it, and rolled the nipple between his fingers. It was hardened, showing how turned on you were.

You decided he had too many clothes on too, and began to work on the buttons on his shirt, letting out a grunt of frustration at how many buttons there were. Dean chuckled into the kiss and deftly finished unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged it off and followed it with his black t-shirt. He shoved you against the edge of the bed so that you fell back onto it. You watched him hungrily as he undid his pants and brought them down with his boxers. His erection sprang free, and you could see the pre-cum leaking from his head already.

Dean crawled on top of you and began kissing your neck and trailing down between your breasts, down your stomach, and down your leg, ending at your ankle. You had no idea how sensitive your ankle was to kisses but you weren’t about to complain. Your chest heaved as you silently begged for him to relieve your need.

Dimly, in the background, you could hear Dean’s phone ringing. The two of you ignored it as Dean pulled your panties to one side, exposing your drenched pussy. He groaned at the sight of it. “So ready for me, sweetheart. All that for me,” he muttered as he brought his tongue sliding through your folds.

Your response was instantaneous. Your hips bucked, needing more of that friction. Dean grabbed your hips and held them down as he sucked on your clit, pleasure shooting through you. You took one of your hands and fisted Dean’s hair, gently pulling and attempting to guide him. Your other hand went to your breast as you massaged it, desperate to find your climax. Dean’s fingers found your hole, and he slipped two inside as he curled them against your walls, licking and sucking along your pussy. You were close. You could feel yourself tightening, and you moaned, “Dean, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he said. “Cum.” He took your clit in his teeth and gently rolled it around in his mouth. With that, your back arched off the bed and you screamed his name, waves of pleasure coursing through you. Dean finger fucked you through your orgasm, your pussy clenching around his fingers over and over again. His tongue lapped your juices, sucking up every drop.

Dean’s phone rang again. And again. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He got up and answered it. “This had better be good, Sammy,” he said angrily. He went silent as he listened. “Fuck,” he said. “Ok, I’m coming.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. We’re gonna have to pick this up later,” he murmured as he leaned over to kiss you. You grabbed behind his ears with both hands and held him in place, your lips caressing his. “Don’t go,” you pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned with frustration. “Trust me, doll, I don’t want to go anymore than you want me to leave. But it’s an emergency. Another person just died. I’ve gotta go,” he explained.

You sighed and released him. “I’ll be waiting,” you said, and spread your legs wide so he could get a good look.

“FUCK, Y/N. You’re - you’re going to be the death of me,” he stuttered. He got dressed, his erection at full mast. He tucked it into his pants with a groan. “Goddammit Sam, always the cockblocker.”

“I’ll be back, sweetheart,” he said. And just like that, he was gone.

Taglist: @katelynw93

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? IV // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1997 and 1998 are big years for Luke Patterson and his fiancée with their engagement and wedding planning. If you thought wedding planning and the wedding itself was the big things well, you’d be wrong. I mean this is the couple that almost ended with a car accident. Join the year long adventure.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, minor angst, sweet groom!Luke, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. There is one more part after this. 🥺😭

A/N: It’s finally here! The Patterson-Y/L/N wedding makes its appearance here and a little cameo of a future character. The next part is the last part in the miniseries as well. Enjoy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood 1997

An entire year had flown by from the day of your engagement to Luke filled with frustration, elation and greatness. Sunset Curve toured around California, leaving the Y/L/N-Patterson women to plan the wedding. Nineteen years old now in the modestly sized apartment, Luke sat beside you in the bathroom.

Two nervous teenagers a mere month away from their wedding day they cuddled each other eyes pinned at the floor. Apprehensive of the stick that held power to change everything in their lives. For the last week, you hadn’t felt very well with being tired and nausea laying you out in bed.

“It’s been long enough.” Luke murmured reaching for the test, “No matter what. I love you.”

Kissing his cheek, the two of you slumped at the negative with surprising emotion. The negative greatly disappointed you.

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled to his fiancée equally torn up because while the timing wasn’t perfect, he had pictured what life would be like.

A tiny baby growing in his fiancée womb, growing into bump made flutters in his belly. Of love, he already felt for your future unborn children and snuggling his kids. Introducing them to his loved ones and bonding over music. Teaching his son or daughter how to play the guitar.

He’d love to see his parents cradle a new addition to the family freshly born with the tiny knit hat Emily couldn’t resist making. Sharing a celebratory beer with his father and wisdom for the coming years. To learn the parental reason of why they had been against his career choice.

“I really wanted it to be positive.” You admitted playing with your fingers disappointed at being wrong about your body. Luke smiled as your words as he grabbed your hand in his calloused grip.

“Do you…do you want to try for a baby?” Luke trailed off flushing at how beautiful you would look growing his child. The bathroom was quiet as you thought the idea over, “With the tour just finishing the band will be writing music and recording. I could be here for the whole pregnancy and birth.”

“If we get pregnant in the next month. But we’re also getting married in a few months.” You sighed leaning to rest about his bare arm staring at the pregnancy test.

“If it happens then it happens.” Luke spoke, “If you want, we can try.”

Raising your eyes to meet Luke’s you hesitantly nodded at his words as it settled that is there ever a perfect time to get pregnant? So many people struggle with conception like your parents did with you; your mother’s labour was so complicated that you’d never have siblings.

“Okay.” Luke breathed, standing up to scoop you into his arms, “Best get on with it.”

The laughter filled the simple bedroom as Luke crawled over your body to hover with a matching smile. There was no one else in the world that could get his heart fluttering and focus on something other than music. It was terrific, and he couldn’t be mad about.

“So, Rockstar…are you gonna help?” You whispered tugging on the chain of his necklace to drag his face closer. Closing the distance, Luke’s lips brushed yours before time stopped in a collision of senses.

The callouses of his fingers trailing a fire under the flowing shirt chosen for the lunch date earlier. The warmth of his hands nowhere close enough to match the heat your body burnt with. The taste of the cherry chapstick he shamelessly stole from you, but it was the heady scent of Luke that got you.

 Luke heavily breathed as he pulled back with a hazy gaze with the green almost overtaken by the black pupils. No hesitation as your lips sucked on his neck, bringing a gravelly moan from the man over you, a sound that caused your lower half to clench. Legs unable to fully close as his fingers drew symbols on your inner thigh.

Symbols that spelt out his full name. Now that was really hot.

A gasp pulled from your throat you arched as a hand came up to cup your breast in his hand; Luke could argue all he wanted, but he was boob man when it came to you.

Thoughts disappearing the ecstasy with the love of your life overtook your senses.

July 1998

The white dress was a little snugger than the previous month, but you had a good reason for it. A tiny little blob had taken up residence in your womb with a sickness that lasts all day from day one until the start of trimester two. Getting pregnant had to be easy with Luke from the number of times.

Didn’t matter where you were when Luke tugged you away. The small bathroom in the studio? Three times.

Luke’s couch? Yeah, Alex refuses to sit there now.

At this point, you had been everywhere, trying for a baby was incredibly fun, but the hormones sucked. Luke’s deft fingers creating the chords of a song? Bobby banned you from rehearsals, and you had an emergency bag of clothes as well.

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy Y/L/N told her daughter with tears glittering in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter. The wedding dress the bridesmaids, mother’s and Alex had hunted for; the boy had tagged along as he was like a brother. Reggie, Bobby and Luke had spent the day with Mitch and Lance.

A sob broke from the lips of Lance; his baby girl no longer needed him with her soon to be husband. There was no one in the world he trusted more with his daughter than Luke Patterson. The boy never placed the band ahead of his fiancée, and it was quickly noticed how much Luke adored the Y/L/N girl.

“Dad.” You spoke, rushing to hug the man in your arms, “Stop crying. You’ll make me cry.”

Lance was able to hold his tears until the music started and the doors opened to the venue that Luke’s parents married in. Luke stood at the altar with Bobby, Alex, and Reggie. On the opposite side stood your best friend, a childhood friend and your close cousin.

“You look beautiful,” Dad told you slowly making their way to the man cupping his hands over his face. Overtaken by your beauty and the glow, Luke thanked Lance.

“Baby, you look like an Angel,” Luke whispered, squeezing your hands tightly in his as the ceremony began.

“It’s rare that one can find their soulmate, the other half of themselves on such a large plant. Luke and Y/N orbited each other as young children and fell in love in a perfect place. For those of you who don’t know, these two met as a concert. The first step to falling in love. Music is important to this couple.” The officiant spoke, “Luke’s mother told me once that music tethered their souls together, they truly met at a concert, and every important moment had a song.”

Luke’s eyes watered meeting the brown of his mother’s love-filled eyes holding hands with her husband. Luke had no clue how much his mother came to accept, and he felt the relationship fully fix itself as it settled that his Mom had personally made the ceremony better.

 “These two souls came together and became one. Luke and Y/N’s love is rare and beautiful. Today these two had decided to make their own vows.” The officiant finished, “Luke if you could start.”

“There has always music in my heart and soul since childhood. I adored listening and begging my parents for new music. My parents, one year, gave me a guitar as a gift, and it started a deep passion in my soul. I made a band with my best friends, and the band brought me to a person that would become more important. Y/N, I had had a crush on you for a long time before you first spoke to me. I had hit Reggie in the calf with my father’s car, and you made a joke about my height. It wouldn’t be until years later than I somehow convinced you to take a chance.” Luke squeezed your hands, “I love music because it brought me to you.”

“Luke. I am absolutely positive that I have loved you for more than this lifetime as my love is so vast and deep. I believe we have been destined since the dawn of time to find each other together by music. I can’t compete with your vows because you have a way with words with the songwriting you’ve done. You’ve been there through the hard times and best times holding my hand ready to catch me if I fell. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives catching each other when we need it.”

“May the rings be presented?” The officiant asked with a smile as your best friend and Alex gave the rings.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Luke whispered as he slid the band to rest against your engagement ring. You repeated the words as you slid the band on his finger as well.

“I now pronounce you as man and wife. Mr. Patterson, you may kiss your wife.” The officiant spoke, sending the room into applause.

You and Luke ran down the aisle still holding hands with the biggest smiles of your entire life to the limo that would deliver you to the reception. Luke couldn’t help himself as he pressed kisses all over. This was a glorious day for the musician, his career was going really well, and he married the most beautiful girl.

“God, I love you.” Luke murmured to the girl in the white dress. Leaning closer for another kiss, Luke froze.

Digging into his ankle was a heavy object. Your nervous eyes glittered under the dimmed lighting in the limo. Never-ending eye contact Luke lifted a moderately heavy wooden chalkboard. Written on the sign was: ‘Unofficial flower girl or ring bearer’.

“Are you serious?” Luke asked gobsmacked at the news that heightened the greatness of his wedding day. Eyes flickering to meet yours he watched as your hand unzipped a hidden pocket on your dress.

Flat on your hand was a pregnancy test similar to the one you took months back. The only difference being this one had two lines.

“AS serious as a heart attack. There will be a baby Patterson in six months.” The laugh was joyful as your lips parted.

Luke wasted absolutely no time in setting his hand on the slight bump the dress had covered, “This is why you mentioned your dress being snugger?”

“Mhm.” You replied, stroking the softness of his cheekbone in pure love with him and the life you carried, “We’re in for a wild ride Patterson.”

“Bring it on.” Luke finished kissing your cheek as the limo came to a stop in front of a large venue. The duo you ran inside where your wedding guests threw paper airplanes that Reggie had suggested.

Each airplane had a personal note from your friends and family along that would be gathered into a binder. Reggie had found out that rice wasn’t good for birds and while the reception was inside, he couldn’t do it. So, he brought the idea of paper airplanes; in class, the boys would throw airplanes at each other. It was a nod to their adolescence.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson,” Alex announced into the microphone set on the stage with Sunset Curve’s instruments. It didn’t surprise anyone that the band would play at the wedding.

On the stage, a beautiful Hispanic woman played a soft piano ballad, if you could recall that maybe the bartender from the Orpheum. Her name was on the tip of your tongue as Luke twirled you into his arms with a big grin.

“Mrs. Patterson.” You hummed tugging him to the head table with where your wedding party would join as well. The second Luke helped you sit he knelt down to reach the box covertly placed.

Your eyebrows came together as he opened it, revealing two matching pairs of personalized vans; following the wedding theme one pair was white and another black. On the right shoe, it had ‘just married’ with the wedding date while the left shoe had a picture from your engagement pictures. Of course, Luke made them have Mr. and Mrs. above the image as well.

“How?” You breathed as Luke gently removed your heels to replace them with a thin pair of no-show socks. Over the socks went the white vans that gave your feet a break from the four-inch heels.

“We’re supposed to party now.” Luke beamed squeezing your hands in his only bending to kiss the back of each. His hazel eyes had shifted to a rich green as he stared up at yours with such a tender look, you could feel the heat building in your cheeks.

As your wedding party took their seats, Luke had already changed his shoes and pushed the box back under the table. His left hand refused to leave your right one as you both took in the magical room that had once only been a concept on paper.

“This is amazing.” You breathed leaning into Luke’s arm, sending a smile to the table near the front with both your parents, “Also thank you for the shoe surprise.”

 “I am so happy they got done on time.” Luke sighed slouching in his seat, waving at the photographer you had hired.

If you can recall correctly, Luke had met him at a band photoshoot, and he was the assistant to the head photographer. You believe his name was Ray and incredibly talented and under-appreciated by his former boss.

“Did you let the photographer know we have an open bar?” You leaned over to your new husband with a flutter in your belly at his new title. The question turned the corners of Luke’s mouth for the first time that day.

“I find it unfair that we have an open bar and we can’t drink anything.” Luke snorted nudging Reggie in his side.

“Oh, I think we both know you’ll sneak some for the guys and you.” You chuckled leaning back in the chair. One hand resting on your stomach to caress the material with your thumb, unaware, “I’ll stick to the sparkling juice.”

Luke’s one eyebrow raised at the sudden change in your drink choice as in the past you wouldn’t turn down your favourite. His eyes shifted down to your hand with raised eyebrows.

“Wait…are you…?” Luke drawled out slowly in your ear taken aback when your head in a surreptitious manner. His jaw unhinged mind opened as he took in the tiny bump; in the years together, he was very acquainted with your body.

“We are. How cliché are we?” You laughed as Luke lunged to press a kiss to the supple skin lightly painted with foundation.

Your makeup was natural and straightforward to last longer for photos and make it through the dances for later. It was also Luke’s favourite look.

Dinner, the dances and speeches had sped by ending with both the bouquet toss and the garter toss. The guests mingled with the newlyweds as some danced, Emily had managed to drag Luke back on the floor.

“I’m proud of you, Luke.” Emily smiled up at her son, “And you said those dance lessons were a waste of time.”

A light pink flush took over the nineteen-year old’s full cheeks reminiscing the lessons he had taken with his mother. He had been eleven or twelve at the time when his father pulled a muscle at the worst time. The coupons nearly expiration Emily took Luke to the lessons that initially had been for date night.

“I think it helped with singing-“Luke instinctively cut himself off as he had done years before when music was a no go subject, “Sorry you don-“

“Luke, I can never explain how sorry I am about what happened. I was wrong to push you into a box you didn’t fit. Music is a part of you, and I understand now.” Emily squeezed the bicep of the guitarist, “Besides you’ll understand where we were coming from in a couple months.”

Luke’s jaw dropped at her announcement, “What.”

“Luke, I am a mother. I know the signs such as your wife turning down the wine.” Emily admitted stepping back from the boy that had so suddenly become a man before her very eyes.

No longer was he the chubby-cheeked boy running naked from his bath after splattering spaghetti sauce on himself. He had outgrown his interest in soccer and baseball with his little friends. He had matured into a man that lived up to Emily’s teachings. Luke, in her eyes, was now a man of honour, integrity, kindness and stood up for himself.

Emily and Mitch Patterson had done a fantastic job raising their son, but now they could step back. They would get to watch Luke find his way as a husband and a father.

“Hey, man,” Reggie spoke as Luke walked off the dance floor finding you among family congratulating the couple.

“Hey, Reg.” Luke beamed tugging the bassist into his arms for a tight hug. As the two boys leaned back, they looked over at their friend.

Alex discarded the pink suit jacket at the table in favour of leaning against the wall talking with the bartender. A smile blossomed on the two men’s faces as they took in that Alex was utterly relaxed in the conversation.

“They were hardcore flirting.” Reggie piped up, referencing the male bartender, “His name is Billy, I think.”

The bartender had shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a bun with glittering brown eyes drowning in the shy blonde. He wore a dark shirt opened a few buttons with white detailing on it. A white necklace as well, but it was the lovesick smile Luke loved; Alex deserved happiness the most in Sunset Curve.

“He’s totally a skater.” Reggie spoke, “It’s a love story. He’s a skater boy, and he’d like to do ballet.”

“That would be a sick song. He was a punk, she did ballet.” Luke hummed to a melody created on the spot, “Not really our sound.”

“Someone will figure out a way to use it.” Reggie waved off, and he was right. A singer would use the exact lyric in her song ‘Sk8er Boi’ in 2002 when Sunset Curve would bump into her.

Slowly the boys of Sunset Curve found their way to the stage to perform a few songs directed towards you. At your urging, you had demanded they give a live performance of Unsaid Emily for your now mother-in-law. As they sang, you wrapped an arm, Emily, as she cried.

“This is his best work.” You mumbled to the older woman cupping her wet cheek leaning into the touch of her husband’s touch.

As soon as the song was over, Emily yanked her son into her arms both parties of the hug emotionally moved. It seemed the performance had shifted something in their relationship for the better. Luke didn’t need to explain as he pulled you into his side once more.

 “Alex isn’t the only one that found someone.” You whispered, finding Alex and the bartender on break dancing on the edge of the dance floor. At your husband’s puzzlement, your finger pointed in the direction of the stage.

In a conversation photographer, Ray captivated the lead singer of the band you had hired when Sunset Curve didn’t play. Even Reggie seemed to have the attention of your twin showgirl cousins from Las Vegas.

“Love attracts love.” Luke simply spoke, wrapping his built arms around his wife, thinking back on the changes that had happened.

Luke hitting Reggie’s leg with the car at thirteen, finding each other at the concert a few years later, the accident that threatened the relationship. Proposing twice and finally marrying over a year later on the same day you confessed the pregnancy. So much had happened in such a fraction of time.

“I love you.” Luke murmured at the shell of your ear watching his friends have the time of their lives on a beautiful day in the summer of 1998.

Above are the example of the shoes that Luke got.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15​ @siriuswvrld​ @princessvader15​ @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle​ @joshy-obx​ @lovesanimals​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you​ @jaskiers-sweetkiss​ @lostrandomfangirl​n @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @jatp-holland​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland​ @dasexydevitt13​ @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @ssprayberrythings​​ @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @zukoshonourr​ @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch​ @kcd15​ @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl​ @all-in-fangirl​ @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown​

[vannahfanfics]

Raincheck

Category: Angst, Drama, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Hitoshi Shinso, Ochako Uraraka

Hello everyone! This is my story for the @shinsoubigbang​! When you get a chance, also check out my partner's artwork; they did an amazing job illustrating a scene from the story. :)

The wind tugged at Hitoshi’s lavender locks and whipped at the capture weapon around his neck as he perched on the edge of the rooftop. He hunched like a gargoyle as he carefully surveyed the sprawling mess of back alleys below his sneakers. Crime always festered in dark places, especially on cloudy, moonless nights like these. Hitoshi could almost hear the whispers of malcontent and mischief rising with the wisps of fog. His instincts were buzzing, tingling just beneath his skin, indicating that his hunt for criminals would soon bear fruit. 

His lilac-hued eyes snapped to the side as the air suddenly rang with the rhythmic clacking of heels. A young woman in a waitress’ garb quickly strode down a cobblestoned back road. She clutched her purse tight to her chest and feverishly looked to her left and right. Despite her vigorous attempts, her caution did not avail her. Hitoshi watched a shadow slink out from behind a dumpster. A knife glinted in the dark as its blade caught the dull yellow light spilling from the nearby streetlamp. The shadowy figure crept up behind the unsuspecting woman, reaching for her brunette hair bunched in a bun— 

and that’s when Hitoshi swung down in a dark fury, his capture weapon wrapping tightly around the man’s wrist. The woman screamed and stumbled into the wall as the hero wedged himself between her and her would-be assailant. The mugger cursed and tugged violently against his bindings, but he could not best the hard-earned muscles of Hitoshi’s arms, which flexed as he drew the capture weapon so tight that it ceased the man’s blood flow and forced his fingers apart. The knife clattered to the ground, useless, and the startled thief met Shinso’s cool, cold purple eyes. 

“Someone taught you the wrong way to pick up women, mate,” Hitoshi tsked while wagging his finger scoldingly. The mugger’s face turned an ugly red-purple hue, and he vehemently resumed clawing and yanking at the capture weapon. 

“You motherfucker! I’m gonna—” He wasn’t going to do anything, actually, which he realized when his jaw slackened and his eyes clouded over as Hitoshi’s Quirk washed over him. 

“Do me a favor and stop struggling, will you?” Hitoshi tutted. The man obediently lowered his arm, standing still as a statue as Hitoshi loosened the bindings and looped them back around his neck. The hero returned his attention to the young woman, who was still pale-faced and hugging the dirty brick wall while staring at the mugger in horror. 

“He… He won’t do anything?” she squeaked as Shinso abandoned him to walk over to her. 

“Him?” he asked with a jab of his thumb. “Nah,” he reassured with a wily smirk. “He’s completely under the control of my Quirk. He won’t do anything I don’t put in his empty head. Now, miss, are you hurt?” Still gawking apprehensively at her attacker, she slowly shook her head. To Hitoshi’s relief, however, her rigid body slowly relaxed, and she turned to look at him. 

“Thank you for saving me… I should have known better than to use this shortcut, but it’s my daughter’s birthday party and I wanted to hurry home after my shift since I couldn’t get off for her party…”

“I’m sorry you had to miss it,” Hitoshi said genuinely. “It’s dangerous around here, though. I’ll call in a police escort to get you home safely in addition to handing over this guy if you don’t mind waiting a little longer, okay?” Though she probably didn’t want to waste any more time, the near-catastrophe rattled her thoroughly enough to comply. Hitoshi walked out of the side street onto the sidewalk flanking the main road. After phoning the police, he paused to open a video message. 

“Hey, ‘Toshi!” Ochako’s bubbly round face dominated the screen, cheeks rosy and brown eyes sparkling as she waved excitedly. “I just got back from my P.R. trip to America. You wouldn’t believe all the amazing things I saw! We should get together for lunch tomorrow so I can tell you all about it. I’m sure you’re on patrol right now and will be until morning,” she said, leaning back in the camera frame, and he could see that she was dressed in a pair of fluffy white pajamas printed with green aliens in spacesuits. It made him chuckle; she always had adored silly pajamas like that. “I’ve got a bit of jet lag so I’ll be awake for a while, so call me when you get off, okay? Bye-bye now!” she chirped while waving before the video cut off. 

Hitoshi stared at the frozen image of Ochako’s big bright smile, a soft one forming on his own lips. After he’d joined Class A in U.A.’s Hero Course, he’d become fast friends with all of them. However, to everyone’s surprise including his own, he’d gravitated the most to Ochako. She was just so bubbly and bright, the perfect counterpart to his subdued and relaxed personality. He found her endless optimism and drive refreshing, so much so that they still kept up with one another even after graduation. 

His big fat crush on her might have had a little to do with that, though. 

Hitoshi waited impatiently for the police with the waitress. He asked her questions about her daughter, and though she eagerly embraced the small talk to ease her nerves, Hitoshi really just let her responses go in one ear and out the other. He was too busy mentally configuring his schedule, trying to figure out the soonest he could call Ochako. In the end his impatience got the best of him, as he ended up calling her number as the police officers were loading the suspect into the back of the squad car and the other was taking a report from his would-be victim. 

“Wow, that was fast.”

Hitoshi smiled at her cheery voice buzzing on the other end of the line. He leaned against the hood of the patrol car and slid one of his hands into his pants pockets. 

“I just happened to have a break,” he shrugged. “I wanted to call and see how you were settling in after your trip.” 

“I’ve only been gone two weeks, but it still feels kind of weird to be back!” she giggled. He could envision her grabbing one of her fluffy pillows— probably the big sun plushie wearing sunshades— as she reclined against her headboard. “America was incredible! I can totally see how it was the birthplace of heroes. I can’t wait to tell you all about it, ‘Toshi.” 

“Are you sure you can wait until tomorrow?” he joked. In the background, he could hear the police radio crackling about a carjacking and a high-speed chase through town. As the sirens began to wail and red-and-blue lights painted the dark night sky, Hitoshi straightened up and looked around with narrowed eyes. “Hey, Ochako, hold on a minute. I think—” 

He never got time to finish the sentence. 

Everything was a blur as the car came careening down the street, followed closely by a police cruiser. The air filled with squealing tires and burning rubber as the police car braked harshly, but the carjacker had no care to do so, instead opting to plow right through the two police cars parked in the middle of the road in his effort to get away. One of the police officers managed to tackle the waitress into the safety of the alleyway, while the other was bowled over by the criminal, who was attempting to use the chaos to escape, even though he was handcuffed. 

Hitoshi was not so lucky. As the car zoomed past the cruiser, crunching the metal with a sickening sound, it glanced him. Even being glanced by a car going over one hundred miles an hour was enough to send Hitoshi flying back into the alleyway. His phone was slung from his hand as he crashed against the rough ground; he released a strangled gasp as he felt several of his bones snap. As he rolled down the alley, the back of his head smacked against the cobblestone. A white rush flooded through him from head to toe, filling his brain with cotton and his ears with a persistent ring. When he finally came to a rest on his back in a mangled mess of limbs, he was staring uncomprehendingly at the sky, blood leaking out of his lips. 

Dimly, he could hear Ochako’s voice echoing through the alleyway. He’d somehow managed to turn the phone on speaker. 

“‘Toshi? What happened? ‘Toshi? Hitoshi?!” 

The sirens continued wailing. The blue-and-red lights flashed around him like the stars falling to earth. He could feel blood leaking out from the back of his head, coating his lavender hair in thick, sticky globs. The woman was screaming and crying, while the police officers were shouting into their radios for an ambulance. As the darkness encroached on the edges of Hitoshi’s vision, he hung onto Ochako’s frantically screeching voice like a lifeline. 

He had to live. He had to live. He was going to meet her for lunch tomorrow…

~~~~~~~~~~

It began with a dull pounding ache. It thundered at the base of his skull, rising in intensity with each inch he crawled towards consciousness. The persistent pain made him want to drift back into the sweet embrace of sleep, but unfortunately the ache prevented it. He groaned lowly, lolling his head from side-to-side and hitting the hard plastic of the neck brace hugging his throat. His purple lashes fluttered open, and his eyes were greeted with bright, burning white. 

He blinked slowly, uncomprehendingly, at the nondescript white tiles above him. He could hear a heart monitor blinking steadily beside him. He could feel a thin hospital gown rubbing against his bruised skin, the casts wrapping his right arm and leg to immobilize them, and the bandage covering his swollen right eye. He was in a hospital, clearly, but what had landed him there in such a deplorable state? 

As he tried to remember, there was nothing. Emptiness. A blank slate. 

He furrowed his eyebrows in mild panic. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t summon up memories about much of anything. He knew his name— Hitoshi Shinso— but that was it. As he shifted on the bed, breath hitching and his heart rate jumping on the monitor, it alerted the nurses outside. 

“He’s awake!” a nurse called as she bustled in through the doorway. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. You’re safe, in the hospital,” she cooed as she leaned over his bedside. Hitoshi looked at her with wild eyes. “What’s the matter, hun? Are you in pain? Do you need medication?” 

“Don’t remember,” he grumbled. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t remember anything…” 

The nurse gasped and straightened up, hand flying to her mouth. She looked nervously at the other nurses crowding the door. As they began to murmur worriedly to one another, the doctor strode in, frowning over Hitoshi’s chart. 

“Doctor, he says he doesn’t remember anything,” the nurse reported in a quiet voice. The professional looked at her before walking to Hitoshi’s side. Hitoshi squirmed uncomfortably under his stern, inquisitive stare. 

“Son, do you know your name?” 

“Hitoshi Shinso.” 

“Do you know how you got here?” 

Hitoshi shook his head as much as the neck brace would allow. “Can you remember anything from the last week?” Another shake of his head. “Last month?” Again, he shook his head. “What do you remember?” 

Hitoshi squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to summon something, anything, from the recesses of his mind. A few snippets floated up in the sea of emptiness, which served to ease him just a little. “I’m a hero… I graduated from U.A. High School… But I don’t remember going there. I just know I did.” 

“Well,” the doctor sighed as he straightened up, tapping the pages of his chart, “you suffered a basilar skull fracture and an epidural hematoma. We had to puncture your skull to relieve the pressure on your brain, but you still developed a very severe concussion. It seems the head trauma has induced amnesia.” 

Hitoshi’s heart rate skyrocketed, causing the monitor to wail shrilly. 

“Will I get my memory back?” 

“Most likely. It may take some time, however, with an injury like yours. Some of your classmates are here; they’ve been waiting for you to recover from surgery. I can bring them in if you would like. Their presence may help to jump-start the process.” 

Hitoshi nodded robotically, still trying to process the great hole that had suddenly developed in his life. Time seemed to blend together, because the next thing he knew, a green-haired young man was inching into the room with a shaky smile. The doctor probably informed his supposed friends of his amnesia because the freckled boy treaded lightly and carefully— like he was afraid Hitoshi would shatter with one wrong word. 

“Hey, ‘Toshi,” the boy smiled as he pulled up a chair to his bedside. Hitoshi squinted at him. There was something familiar about that quivering smile, nervous twitching, and bright emerald eyes, but that was all. “I’m glad to see it’s okay… It’s me, Deku— er, Izuku Midoriya! Not that you would know that, I guess, considering the amnesia and all… We went to school together, y’know?” 

Hitoshi swallowed, but his mouth was dry so it made it a little difficult. 

“I see,” was all the lavender-haired boy said. At this time, a blond-haired skinny boy with a lightning-shaped streak of black in his bangs bustled in, red-faced and looking like he’d run all the way there. 

“Holy crap, is it true, Deku?” the boy panted, rushing up to grip the back of his chair. Izuku pouted over his shoulder at him. 

“Yeah, Denki… He doesn’t remember anything…” 

“Oh, man,” Denki said while nervously running his hand through his hair. “Ochako’s gonna be devastated…” 

Hitoshi perked up at the name. As soon as it passed Denki’s lips, it sent a jolt of recognition through him. Oddly, aliens and stars and the color pink suddenly came to mind. The two boys immediately noticed his reaction and exchanged hopeful glances. 

“Do you recognize that name?” Izuku asked hopefully. 

“I think so…” Hitoshi said quietly, fisting the scratchy white hospital blanket. “Ochako…” The name seemed to roll off his tongue so perfectly, and it sent a bubbly, happy feeling rising up inside of him. 

“That’s great! She was so worried about you, Hitoshi! It took her forever to get answers out of the first responders, and then she had to handle calling all of us, and then she was really upset when they wouldn’t let her see you because you were in surgery, so she’s been a mess all night—” Izuku babbled, but Hitoshi ignored it as he tried to process the way his heart was fluttering at the hazy image of a sweet round-faced brunette trying to surface in the void of his mind. 

“I think… I think I was in love with her.” 

Izuku stopped mid-sentence, emerald eyes blowing wide. Denki had his hand over his mouth as Hitoshi looked at them in muddled confusion. “Were we dating?” 

“Uh… no,” Denki coughed uncomfortably. Hitoshi’s frown deepened and he looked back down at the blanket. If that was the case, then why did just the mention of her name summon up a sense of deep fondness and happiness within him? “But, uh,” Denki continued, scratching at the side of his face, “we’ve all known you’ve had a crush on her for a long time— everyone but Ochako, that is.” 

“Denki!” Izuku gasped scoldingly, whirling around in his chair. 

“What?! The man’s got amnesia! I gotta help him out, right?” the blond argued defensively. Hitoshi was too busy blushing to listen to their quibbling. So, I do love her… But she doesn’t know. So, did I never tell her? Why not? 

“‘Toshi? Where is he? ‘Toshi! Hitoshi!” 

As she came barging in the room, tears streaming down her ruddy cheeks and brunette hair a mess, he immediately knew why. Even flustered and sobbing and disoriented from lack of sleep, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever clapped eyes on. Even with no memories, he knew that. She tripped over his IV cord in her effort to scramble to him, face-planting against the tile floor. He jolted up in bed, the heart rate monitor picking up the leap in his heartbeat, but she was so frantic that she immediately recovered and practically threw herself down on the bed beside him. 

“I was so worried!” she sobbed, grabbing at the blankets as her tears rained down on his face and into his lavender hair. “We were— we were on the phone, and, and then, there was this big crash, and then the sirens, and— oh my God, ‘Toshi, you wouldn’t answer me, and no one would tell me anything, and I-I-I— oh, ‘Toshi, I’m so glad you’re alive!” she rambled through her tears before burying her face into his chest. Hitoshi grunted when pain flared across his body as his broken ribs crunched under the assault, but like hell he was going to say anything. Ochako wailed into him, drowning the thin cloth of the gown with tears and snot. As her body wracked and heaved, it jolted Hitoshi a little, but he gritted his teeth through the little stabs of pain. 

When she’d calmed down enough, she quietly asked against his chest, “Is it true? You have amnesia?” 

“Yes,” he admitted in a small breath. Ochako breathed in deeply, shakily. Then, she shot up, her teary brown eyes gleaming with determination. 

“That’s okay! We can work through it!” Hitoshi’s heart fluttered at her use of “we.” She grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight, giving him a watery smile. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, ‘Toshi. We’re gonna get you better, okay?” she said softly and threaded her fingers through his lavender hair. Her fingers skimmed over the shaved patch in his head and the sutures from where they’d had to split his skull open, and she hiccuped as a fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks. “I-it’s gonna be okay.” 

He wanted to tell her that of course it was, now that she was here. But words failed him, as he was too lost in the watery sea of her chocolate-brown eyes and the feeling that everything really was going to be okay. He remembered Ochako, and that was enough comfort to him to face all the trials ahead. 

~~~~~~~~~~

He was discharged from the hospital a week later. In addition to his head injuries, he’d sustained a broken arm and leg, three broken ribs, two fractured cervical vertebrae, and a myriad of scrapes and bruises. Because of the severity of his wounds and his amnesia, it was difficult for Hitoshi to manage by himself, so his friends took it upon themselves to care for him. Nothing humbles you like being unable to do even the most menial tasks, like put on clothes or bathe yourself. Hitoshi’s friends took it in stride, though, and always batted away his emotional expressions of gratitude. “It’s just what friends do,” they said. 

It made Hitoshi wish he remembered their friendships. Maybe then it would make him feel less like a charity case. 

Though his friends rotated shifts around their hero duties to help him throughout the day, Ochako always cooked dinner for him— without fail, every night. They would always insist on sharing the load, she stubbornly refused them. Toting in groceries, sometimes still in her hero uniform and beat up from the toil of the day, she’d grin determinedly. 

“My mom always said that nothing helps you heal faster than a good meal. That’s how I can help!” 

Hitoshi couldn’t find the words to tell her that her presence helped him heal more than food ever could. He’d sit in his wheelchair watching her cook, the way she turned up the radio and danced around the kitchen singing into the wooden spoon. Swinging her hips, she’d whirl around to serenade him with a goofy smile. Hitoshi never knew the words to the songs. He’d just grin back, charmed by her zest for life. It was so dazzling, so blinding, that even now he couldn’t find the courage to tell her how he felt. She was like the sun, so radiant and sublime that he felt like he couldn’t ever compete. 

He should say something to her. Really, he should. But… the words just couldn’t come, just like his memories. 

Three weeks in, Hitoshi’s memories had trickled in somewhat. Most of them were dredged up by old stories his friends told him, so there were still tons of gaps. Still, it made Hitoshi feel a little better; he no longer felt like he was trapped in a void and a stranger to himself. Looking back, it was a terribly scary and lonely feeling, for others to know more about you than you did. Though the doctor kept telling him to give it time, Hitoshi had already resolved himself to the fact that maybe he might not ever get them all back. His past would just be a jigsaw puzzle of little snatches of memory and secondhand information. 

As much as he tried to convince himself that it was all right, he couldn’t. He hated the not knowing— the not knowing all that time he was in love with Ochako besides those feelings. He wanted all of it, every moment he’d ever had with her to treasure and savor. It was maddening, not having that, so Hitoshi decided to just make do with the new moments. Now, if he could just get over himself and ask her out. 

“‘Toshi? Do you not like it?” 

Ochako’s sweet voice dragged him out of his thoughts. He was reclined on the couch with a bowl of noodles growing cold in his hand, the fork still halfway raised to his lips. It had been a new recipe, Ochako had said. Hurriedly, he scooped the noodles into his mouth and gave her an approving hum. 

“No, sorry. I was just lost in thought. It’s really good.” 

Ochako smiled relievedly, melting into his armchair. She set her empty bowl of noodles on the coffee table, idly flipping through the television channels as Hitoshi finished off his food before it really did grow cold and unappetizing. Eventually, Ochako decided there was nothing worth watching and flipped off the television. She rose to get their dirty dishes, and Hitoshi watched her with lidded lilac eyes. How could every move a person made be pure magic? As she waltzed out the room into the kitchen, the fluidness of her body just amazed him. 

Yet… something was wrong. He could tell. Her body was tense, the edges of her smile crinkled, her eyebrows just barely furrowed. She tried to pass it off with a smile to him as she walked back in, but Hitoshi wasn’t buying it. As she proposed renting a movie, he cut her off, gesturing for her to approach. Confused, she walked over and sat on the edge of the coffee table beside him. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at Hitoshi’s brusque command. She shifted on the wood, pressing her hands between her thighs and rolling her bottom lip under her front teeth. Hitoshi waited patiently for the girl to gather her thoughts. 

“I haven’t been sleeping,” she admitted finally. “I’m tired.” Now that she brought it up, he could see the dark lines ringing the undersides of her eyes and the way that her body sagged. He wordlessly ordered her to elaborate, making her cheeks flood darker. “I… Ever since the accident, I’ve had nightmares, ‘Toshi,” she said hoarsely. The tears sprung to her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks, making her try and wipe them away with the heels of her palms. “That was the worst night of my life, hearing those awful sounds and not knowing what was going on, and— it felt like forever before I could finally find you, and then they told me you were in surgery and you might not make it, and I just— oh, I can’t get it out of my head. That night is just on replay for me, over and over.

And the worst part is that it’s so selfish of me!” she wailed, leaning over and burying her face into her hands. “You were the one in the accident, not me! If anything, you should be the one who’s haunted by it and I have no right to complain, but I… but I… I feel trapped…” she moaned miserably. “If I hadn’t picked up the phone… Then maybe you wouldn’t have ended up like this…” she revealed in a harsh whisper. 

“Oh, Ochako, no!” Hitoshi cried. In his effort to comfort her, he slid off the couch a little, making his brittle bones flare painfully in protest. He didn’t care. Clumsily, he gathered the crying girl into his arms and dragged her onto the couch with him. It was a tight fit, but she still curled into his side, crying into his shoulder as he hugged her tightly with his good arm. “God, Ochako, don’t blame yourself for what happened to me. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But… If I had done something different…” she protested weakly, shaking her head and smearing her tears across his shoulder. To snap her out of her spiral, he pinched her cheek and tugged hard. She shot up into a sitting position, looking at him with wide eyes and her teeth and tongue peeking out from underneath her stretched lips. “‘Toshi… Ow… Tha’ hursh...” she slurred in protest and blinked rapidly as the tears continued to prickle at her eyes. 

“Listen to me,” he said sternly. “The accident was not your fault. It was just a freak thing, okay? If anything, it’s my fault for picking up the phone because I couldn’t wait until my patrol was over to call you.” As he spoke, the memories of that night and all the nights before came flooding back. As they rushed in like water, the flow of his words rose in tandem. “I was just so excited that you were back that I just had to hear your voice, right then, and I wasn’t paying attention to anything but you, and—” 

He stopped short, cheeks flooding pink as he realized what exactly was tumbling out of his mouth. Ochako stared dumbly at him, a little drool leaking from the corner of her mouth as he was still stretching it. He stiffly released her, causing the skin to snap back. There were pink imprints in her skin where he’d pinched it; she slowly reached up to rub at it, blinking sluggishly.

Well. The cat was out of the bag now, so Hitoshi might as well let it go wild. 

“Ochako… I don’t want you here every day because you feel responsible for what happened to me.” He smiled softly and reached up to cover her hand in his own, cupping her cheek. “I want you here because I love you. I’ve always loved you.” 

“You remembered?” she asked meekly. As a fresh wave of tears streamed from her eyes, Hitoshi’s smile widened, and he thumbed them away. 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I never forgot, Ochako.” 

She sucked in a breath, then let it out shakily. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed a few times, tearfully processing the situation. After a few minutes of just silently crying next to Hitoshi, her cheeks began to flood pink again. 

“I… I would really like it if you kissed me right now,” she admitted bashfully. Hitoshi snorted with laughter, but hell, who was he to refuse? He gently moved his hand to the back of her head to pull her forward. Ochako melted into his touch, allowing him to maneuver her as he would to bring her face close. Her hands felt onto his chest, digging into the soft fabric of his tee-shirt. Hitoshi held her there for a moment, centimeters away, to admire the gorgeous view of her lidded brown eyes and flushed cheeks. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. Her blush darkened and she shyly bit down on her bottom lip. He chuckled as she wiggled in impatience but opted against teasing her more. He closed his eyes and the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a sweet but passionate kiss. Ochako hummed as his mouth smoothed over hers, so naturally like it had always belonged there. Hitoshi kissed her languidly, savoring the softness of her lips and the aftertaste of chicken broth that was oddly pleasurable. Nothing promotes healing like a good meal, he thought with a mischievous smirk. Ochako would probably explode from mortification if he told her that. She was so cute when she was flustered, though, that it might always be worth saying. 

They kissed idly for quite a while, until their faces were flushed and they were a little out of breath. Ochako had draped herself over his chest and wormed her legs between his, careful not to jar his mending bones. She looped her arms around his neck to play with the ends of his fluffy lavender hair, chin propped on his chest so close that he could lean in and peck her lips every once in a while. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked him after he’d been quiet for some time. A smile slowly spread across his lips. 

“I was thinking…” he said, pausing to give her another soft, sweet kiss, “that we never had that lunch date, did we?” 

A smile slowly spread across her face, lighting her up like the sun. Bright as it was, Hitoshi couldn’t tear his gaze away; he wouldn’t, even if it blinded him forever. He would be glad if it was the last thing he ever saw. Giggling, Ochako snuggled into him, fluttering her long brown lashes. 

“No, we didn’t. You asked for one heck of a raincheck.” 

Hitoshi scoffed, making her stick out her tongue mischievously at him. One heck of a raincheck, indeed. That was okay, though. Even sad moments were moments, too, and Hitoshi valued every moment with Ochako like the most priceless jewel on Earth. Though he’d like to collect every one he could, he thought as they cuddled and began to drowse, he wouldn’t mind stretching this one out a little. It marked the beginning of new memories, after all.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ thirteen

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.9k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act two ➻ part three

​​​

Even though you’re wearing shoes, the stairs somehow feel cold under your feet as you walk down to the lobby of the hotel. You are almost free, steps away from the door that will get you out of this mess. You shouldn’t have stayed as long as you did; Daichi would tear into you if he knew, and you’re well aware that he would be right to do so. You had a lapse of judgment, a moment of stupidity, and now you will have to pay the price in guilt as you walk further away from where San is sleeping. You wish you could be nonchalant and firm, say that you aren’t bothered in the slightest and this is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. Part of you just wishes that you could be more cruel.

The number of people you’ve killed should’ve done that, it should have hardened you and made you numb to things like this. Yet here you are struggling to keep it together because you don’t think you really want to walk away like this.

Your feet hit the last step, and you freeze in place, eyes wide as you look across the lobby towards the bar. You weren’t expecting to see the platinum-haired captain sitting upon one of the bar stools, and you certainly couldn’t think of a worse time to happen across him like this. Yet there he sits, back towards you with a clear glass in hand and elbows propped on the counter. Seeing him reminds you of the two men you passed in the streets earlier, the main reason you got separated from San in the first place.

“No, but a newly formed bandit crew is on their way to ambush him later in the night. Around one in the morning, according to my sources.”

He’s back sooner than he said he would be, but he is in one piece, which could be a sign that the ambush didn’t work. Still, you debate going over to where he’s sitting. It lowers your chances of leaving but your gut is begging you to go over to him.

You end up following your gut in the end, walking over to where Hongjoong is sitting with dragging feet. He glances back at you when you approach. You stop in your tracks, scared to go any further, but the captain tilts his head towards the bar counter.

“Care for a drink? Or are you in a hurry to leave?”

You tilt your head to the side upon hearing Hongjoong’s question.

“How did you know I was planning to leave?”

“It was obvious,” Hongjoong says through a sigh. “Frankly, I knew before I even put you on the mission.”

“Why did you put me on it then?”

Rather than answering right away, Hongjoong motions towards the empty stool beside him. You take the hint and step around the chair to sit down next to him.

“Drink?” Hongjoong asks once you sit down.

“J-Just whiskey on the rocks,” you stammer. The bartender nods and moves away to get the drink. Hongjoong looks back at you, eyes narrowed and searching yours with an unreadable emotion.

“I wanted you to come so that I could see what you would do. I was curious, to put it simply. You’re leaving later than I thought you would in all honesty. When your line went dead on the comms, I assumed that you had crushed it and decided to leave then.”

“Are you… are you disappointed in my decision?” You ask the question with great hesitance. Part of you would rather not hear an answer at all, even though Hongjoong’s opinion shouldn’t matter to you in the slightest. The captain laughs a bit. He watches the bartender carefully as the man brings you your drink, sliding it across the wood counter. You don’t touch it right away, however, still waiting for Hongjoong’s answer.

“Why do I need to be disappointed? You have no obligations to me or my crew. I don’t force anyone to stay on my crew if they don’t want to.”

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. It’s better than hearing that he is disappointed in you, but you hate how open-ended his response is. It only makes you feel worse about your decision.

“The lead… was it a dead one?” You shift the subject, closing your fingers around the chilled glass before you.

“No, but my client is a dead one.”

“What happened?”

“There was an ambush and my client was shot before telling me everything he knew.” Hongjoong shrugs as though it’s the most normal explanation in the universe. He takes a long drag from his own drink and throws the alcohol back with ease.

“But you got away uninjured?”

“Of course I did. Those that ambushed me paid their dues for what they did.” You sip at your drink nervously upon hearing his explanation. You somehow keep forgetting the reputation of the man you’re dealing with, the body count he carries with him, and how dangerous he actually is. A small grin plays at his lips. “I got enough information to move onto the next lead though. And I have three more leads after that. The trail isn’t dead yet.”

“Why so much effort? All for Sirens? What’s the point?” You can’t keep yourself from releasing the string of questions. Your curiosity gets the better of you more often than not, and now is no exception. One of Hongjoong’s brows shoots up at your curiosity as though he wasn’t expecting you to ask him that.

“What do you know about Sirens, Miss L/N?”

“Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.”

Your gaze hardens on Hongjoong, Daichi’s words of warning resounding in your head. “Not much.”

“Well, there are five Sirens left in the universe according to rumors. Legend has it that each one bears special markings, insignias of royalty and status. Each Siren bears a special title, a moniker assigned to them at birth in place of a real name, something akin to a status symbol like their markings. They’re a unique and dying breed of people primarily due to the fact that pirates and the military capture Sirens. They’re kept as slaves, used as objects to do their master’s bidding, or used as a source of energy and power. The military uses Sirens as siphons for weaponry, which you’ve surely heard from your time in the military. The way they do it is by plugging a tube between the Siren’s shoulder blades. It’s apparently the sweet spot for drawing out the most power. Powers vary from Siren to Siren, and there are no absolute certainties about the extent of a Siren’s power. Some have been noted to read minds or emotions, but that seems to be a rare genetic mutation in them. Most have the ability to alter the density of objects and bodies, which is why Sirens are so valuable to pirates and thieves. Easily morph through objects, slip into places unnoticed, kill with no weapons except their hands. But that’s all pointless information in the long run. I don’t care about their powers or abilities or what you can siphon out of them.”

“W-What do you care about then?”

“It is said that five Sirens together can unlock one of the universe’s most secret and valuable treasures, although no man has ever laid eyes on it or lived to tell anyone where the treasure might me. I want it for myself. I want to find it and be the person who lives to tell the tale.”

“Why?” You press further as you take sip after sip of your drink.

“If I do that then I’ll live forever. Maybe not physically but I’ll forever be known as the finder of the treasure.”

“Do you care about the treasure or just the aspect of finding it?”

Hongjoong purses his lips, smirk falling away as he moves, and he looks up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to desire a treasure that you don’t know.”

“It’s also hard to pursue a legend that may or may not be true,” you counter. Hongjoong sounds genuine enough but you don’t trust his smile as he speaks. It’s more than just living forever, and it’s more than being the person who finds the supposed treasure. He chuckles at little at your words and looks back down at his drink.

“You have a point. I don’t care though. It’s my goal in life, and I’ll stop at nothing to find that treasure.”

“There has to be more to it than that,” you argue again. It just doesn’t sit right with you. Your curiosity is going to get the better of you, and you know that all too well. “There’s no way that it’s as simple as that.”

“You’re smart, I’ll give you that.” Hongjoong thumbs at the rim of his glass before glancing over at you. “I can’t tell you. If I am going to share that with you, you have to remain on the crew. I have to be able to trust you with the information. I don’t tell anyone my reasons for finding Sirens. So I don’t have to tell you.” A sigh leaves your lips.

“Fair enough,” you murmur before downing the rest of your drink. “Another, please.” The bartender takes your now empty glass.

“One more drink before you leave then?” Hongjoong inquires.

“I have to go,” you say even though it’s not what Hongjoong asked. The question lingered in his words, there enough for you to pick up on it.

“Why? Unless you plan to keep it to yourself.”

“I can’t afford to stay. Besides, I never planned to stay this long.”

Hongjoong nods a few times then passes his glass to the bartender when the man returns with your new drink.

“A half glass, if you would.” Hongjoong leans back in his seat. “I didn’t offer you a place on the crew lightly. It wasn’t just to make you feel good about yourself or needed. I truly see a place for you on the crew, one that has been empty and hollow for a long while.”

“Why don’t you just recruit people from Echidna then? Replace me.”

“I have done that in the past. Many a time. The largest my crew ever got was around seventy-four crewmates. Fifty percent left after my first announcement that I was hunting down Sirens. Half of the remaining crew left after the first year. Once we dwindled down to thirteen, things stabilized for a time. We maintained that number for quite some time. When shit hit the fan, it happened fast. One by one we slowly reached eight crew members and it’s kept since then.” You try to hide your surprise, but your jaw falls open slightly upon hearing Hongjoong’s explanation.

“You could have forced them to stay. Kept the numbers, had more people.”

Hongjoong releases another dry laugh. “And what? Is it better to have a loyal few or the disloyal many? I prefer the few. Why risk having a crew full of people you can’t trust? It’s pointless. Trust is what relationships are built upon. Trust is where it begins.”

You hesitate to mull over his words, toying with the ice in your glass blankly for a few moments.

San… he opened up to me. Trusted me. He was so quick to do so. As though there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about what my intentions were.

“Did you know that San’s former crew was here?” You ask all of a sudden. Hongjoong’s eyes widen as he searches your expression for answers.

“Well, that’s a surprise. I didn’t expect San to open up so quickly with you.”

“Because he was hurting,” you hiss in response, fingers curling into a tight fist again the counter.

“What happened?” The lightness leaves Hongjoong’s tone, and he becomes serious again in the blink of an eye.

“I was attacked and dragged into an alley by a Berserker. When San came to help me, he recognized the woman from his old crew.”

“Was it Taskmaster Cara?”

You nod hastily in response to Hongjoong’s question. A string of curses leaves his lips, and now he’s the one to clench a fist against the wood.

“Did you know or not?”

“I knew they were here because this is where their base is. I had no clue that you would get attacked by Cara of all people. That’s was never the goal.”

“The goal?” Your tone turns incredulous. Hongjoong refuses to look at your enraged expression; instead, he thumbs at his glass with little interest.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you. Since you’re leaving anyway, I’ll just tell you. The goal was to have you and San go into the city. After buying the supplies, San was supposed to pull away and get separated from you. Act like he wasn’t himself or wasn’t okay. It was meant to be a test to see whether you would stay or go. Since I already thought you were going to leave, I wanted to test your loyalties to new people and see how genuine you were. However, you were just supposed to get separated. There were never any plans of attack or ambush or anything like that. Just to see if you would take the opportunity to leave when you were alone, even after San and Seonghwa both told you not to separate.”

“I wouldn’t have just left him like that,” you argue. Hongjoong’s assumptions about you are teetering on offensive, and you can’t help but feel hurt by his words.

“Yet you are now,” he counters. You jerk your head back towards the counter when he meets your eyes. “Am I wrong?”

“Be quiet.”

“I asked if I was wrong. What did San tell you, Y/N?”

“He told me everything,” you spit out.

“You are leaving him then. He opened up to you, put everything out there for you, told you the parts of him that he hates more than anything. He put his heart in your hands. And you still want to walk away after that? Do you realize what that would do to him? Wake up to an empty bed? Never see you again? That’s not just breaking trust. It’s hurting him.” Hongjoong pauses to reach down, and a moment later he pulls his pistol up. You straighten your back automatically, eyeing his movements as he sets the gun down on the bar counter. ���Get out of that chair with any intention to leave, and I’ll put a bullet in you. I won’t let you hurt him like that.”

“How would he feel about you killing me then?” You ask, trying to conceal the sudden surge of fear that courses through your system upon hearing Hongjoong’s threat. “How is that any better than me leaving?”

“Because San won’t know the difference. I’ll get rid of your body and the witnesses if I have to. I refuse to let you waltz in and make things worse for San by leaving. If you were going to leave, you should’ve done it before he opened up to you.”

“Stop.”

“Why should I? I’m only making you aware of the issue. San is my crewmate, someone I chose for my crew myself, my brother in arms. It’s my responsibility as a captain to look after my members, and I will do whatever it takes to do just that. If you try to walk out that door, then you are an obstacle and I will take you down.”

“It’s not as though I’m leaving easily. It hurts and I feel guilty about it. San has saved my life twice now and for what? For me to get him to open up about his past trauma then leave? I know it’s shitty and a fucking awful move. But I have to go. There’s no way around it. I wasn’t supposed to stay this long anyway, so maybe it would be easier for you to shoot me. Save me the guilt of leaving.”

“Then you deserve to live with the guilt. If you’d be so selfish and heartless, then it’s what you’ve earned.”

“He told me that he felt the need to protect me. He felt guilty because I was hurt by someone he knew and for not being there sooner. For not noticing I was gone sooner. He said he doesn’t want it to happen again. The last time someone said that to me, they were murdered for crimes that were not their own. They died for me. You can’t blame me for being traumatized.”

Hongjoong’s gaze hardens on you. His eyes are filled with contempt and anger, and for a second, you think he really might shoot you where you’re sitting now.

“You’re choosing the easy way out then. Running away from your problems rather than facing them. There is no way of knowing whether the future will be a repeat of the past. You can only be sure of the present and whatever happens is either a choice of your own or of fate. It was fate that gave me The Horizon. But it was choice that brought me to where I am now. It was choice that landed you in your current predicament, but I know that it was fate that put you in my path. You can walk away from fate and choose uncertainty. Or you can walk back upstairs and let fate decide the rest.”

“Why do you think it’s a good idea to threaten me into staying?” You hiss in response. Your grip on your glass tightens. “What happened to giving your crewmates a choice?”

“I gave you a choice. I’ve changed my mind after all, and I want you to live with the guilt of your actions. That’s worse than death for certain.” Hongjoong reaches forward and grabs his pistol again, pushing it back into its holster. “You are free to make your choice whenever. I’ll know what you chose in the morning.”

Hongjoong pushes his stool back, the wood grating against the floor and creating an unpleasant sound. He pulls away from the counter and moves for the stairs. You turn to watch him go out of sheer curiosity. He pauses at the base of the stairs. Dark eyes find yours again.

“I’m not asking you to respect me. I am asking you to respect my crew, San in particular. It’s as simple as that, Y/N. I hope you make the right choice.”

He disappears up the stairs, floorboards creaking under his movements, and you find yourself suddenly alone at the bar counter. It’s not a pleasant feeling that you’re left with, and the alcohol does little to ease your concerns. You wish you could drink it away, but at the end of the day, you are either staying or going.

You could leave and forget any of this ever happened. Not think about Hongjoong or Wooyoung or Seonghwa or San ever again. Try to forget it all, forget the ones back on the ship, forget everything about your stay. Just focus on handing in the papers and disappearing again. Perhaps you could finally pay for your own crimes in efforts to gain forgiveness. You aren’t sure that’s what you truly want though. The biggest thing stopping you is San. How he might react if you leave. Would he be angry at you? Upset? Hurt maybe? All of the above? You don’t want to see hurt on his face because of your actions.

What’s more important in the end? You’ve been running for so long that part of you wants to be free from it. And yet…

You push your stool back and stand up. There will be other opportunities to turn in the papers. You’ll have another chance. This isn’t your only one, and you’re confident that you can have another shot at freedom. But this isn’t an opportunity. This is something else, and you can’t just walk out now. You return to the foot of the stairs, climbing them slowly and carefully. They creak a bit under your feet, especially as you reach the top. Your hand hesitates on the handle of the door, and you glance back down the stairs. It’s a quick debate: whether you should just take off running or enter the room. You twist the knob and step inside, slipping off your shoes again when you close the door.

The sheets are cold when you slip under them. San doesn’t seem to have moved at all, eyes still pressed shut. You settle against the mattress facing him and let your gaze trail over his features as you continue to think about your decision.

“I thought you left for good,” San says all of a sudden. His eyes crack open and meet yours through the darkness.

“No… I didn’t,” you whisper back. “I couldn’t go yet.”

San releases a small laugh.

“Yet,” he echoes. He stretches a hand out, catching yours with his own, and you flinch under the sudden touch. He pulls your hand towards his chest. You rest your palm against the place over his heart, barely feeling the steady beat. “I’m okay with ‘yet’ for now.”

Something about his tone compels you to slide forward on the bed, pushing closer to San, and he meets you halfway. Your foreheads collide with a slight smack. You both laugh when you hit each other, then San rests his forehead back against yours with a small smile playing at his lips.

“You’re warm.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” you huff as San drapes an arm over your side.

“Thank you.”

“Get so–”

“Y/N. Thank you. For listening and… and for coming back.”

“I won’t leave this time,” you mutter. You can feel heat radiating from San’s cheeks even though you can’t see the flush to his skin.

“I’ll hold you all night to make sure you don’t,” San whispers back. Hot breath fans over your lips. You aren’t sure what comes over you but you lift the hand resting against San’s chest to trace over the outline of his lips with two fingers. He smiles into the touch.

“I’m scared to let you in,” you admit, bring your gaze back up to San’s eyes. He’s looking back at you with a gentleness in his eyes that catches you off-guard.

“You don’t have to let me in yet. Just try to trust me.”

“Okay… okay. I can do that.”

“Then that’s more than enough.”

San leans his head back against the pillow but you take hold of his chin and pull him back to your face once more. It’s prompt and chaste, slightly awkward too, but you slot your lips against his in a rush. San inhales sharply at the sudden pressure. He melts into the soft kiss, pushing back with equal gentleness. He pulls away too soon for your liking, but the smile that resides on his lips as he falls asleep makes your decision to stay more than worth it.

✧✧✧ a/n: it's that time of day on a Tuesday, here we are at your regularly scheduled programming yEEHAW! info dump chapter but i hope you guys enjoy and like this part even if it's not super action packed after the last chapter soijfdoijfoi i love you guys thank you so much for the continued support and love for this story it means the world

taglist: @faeriewoobin​ @sugarrimajins​ @atinyinwonderland​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​ @jeonartemis​ @anothershorthuman​ @xxbluestrifexx​ @saturatedsan​ @haotheheckk​

rather than sending me a ko-fi, i ask that you consider donating to the BLM movement!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[the-silentium]

Trial by Fire

Masterlist - Chapter 1

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4020 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters (yay).

A/N: Woohoo, action chap! From this point on, the will be blood on almost every chap. Be warned.

Taglist:  @haloangel391​ /  @lightning-wolffe​​ / @cherrydemon5​​ / @and-claudia​​

_____________________

"Something happened." One of the members spoke up, addressing the problem from his position at the end of the long table. "The planet is angry again." 

"Why would they come back now?" Another asked, finger nervously tapping at his tight. 

The man leading the council took a second, to release the armchair from his deadly grip, allowing blood to return to his white fingertips. 

"We all know how it started." He didn't know why they were back, but he certainly knew who was the cause. 

Whispers erupted from the dozen of people sitting at the table, accusations, hateful exclamations, worried questions, they all blended in a cacophony that beat at the leader's growing headache. 

"Enough." He barked, effectively bringing silence back into the closed room. 

"She's back and we need to find her. Send half of our available hunters into the jungle for a retrieval mission. No one is allowed back in until she's here."

"But Arlan," the head of the scouts paused, unsure of his own next words, "she's dead." 

No one dared to breathe, in fear that they may be chosen to venture the darkness away from the village's protection if they dared to make a sound to disturb the stillness of the room. 

"Apparently not." Arlan growled, frustrated that the thorn in his side was back. 

____________________

You took a deep breath in to calm your buzzing nerves, they couldn't control you right now, not when everyone's lives, your family, was in danger. They needed you strong and in control, something you hoped you could be long enough to get the whole group to safety. It was your only chance. You had your instincts, they were sharp and trustworthy so you had to rely on them and not let panic overflow again. 

You exhaled slowly, wiggling your fingers and toes to relax every inch of yourself. You could do it. You were an experienced hunter in these jungles and they were highly trained commandos with a flawless success rate. Let's not forget the fact that they had blasters. You were good with your knife, but it clearly wasn't the best weapon out there. Maybe the odds were in your favor. 

But they were used to droids, not unpredictable monsters that loved to tear beings apart limb by limb. Tonight would be your trial by fire. For all of you. 

"We need to be ready to meet them." You cracked your knuckles unconsciously, already picturing yourself in front of one of your nightmares. 

You acknowledged Hunter's comment with a nod, already walking to the nearest tree to stab it with your knife and insert your loyal tap into the hole.

"We all drink before it's no longer possible. It's gonna be a long night and this is our last chance to do it." You pointed to Wrecker. "You first." 

He obeyed in a beat, trusting your survival skills. You knew you'd need all the energy available and the sugary water would provide you just that. Also, you needed to be as hydrated as possible. 

"Okay." You turned towards the rest of them, all their visors fixated on you. "So, I don't know much about them. There are different species that are common beliefs in my village and other species that are proper to other villages. But they all have in common to eat whatever cross their path and to roam solely at night." 

Wrecker moved away from the tree, wiping his mouth with his wrist to make place for Tech who removed his helmet to drink. 

"This planet is a trap." The grey-haired clone grumbled at your unhelpful lack of information. 

"I know, I've lived here my whole life." You glared at him before concentrating again. "No one in my village ever came back from a night outside, so I don't know for sure what species are around. All I know is that there are Algax roaming around."

You signaled to Cross to take Tech's place. 

"They are taaaall creature, with dark blue-ish skin and really long arms and legs. They are shy," you gesticulated your hands around to find the right word, but couldn't find it so you went with the first word that came to your mind, "things that tend to hide along the trees and grab their prey when they don't look. They don't eat the prey, just crush it to death and let it there for the other things." 

You were losing time fast, the jungle was darkening with each passing minute and you were far from ready. There was too much to cover and so little time. Plus, there was the fact that what you knew wasn't 100% reliable. Beliefs change from people to people, from village to village, who knows what version of the stories these beasts really came from?

"And they're super sneaky and silent. Hunter your turn." You announced a tad too dryly, but no one called you out on it, maybe because they were as on edge as you were, mentally preparing themselves for what was to come as best as they could considering they didn't really know what was to come. 

"I'll do this quick so listen. And Tech, listen really really carefully. Rule number one, if you see a light, something cute, something scary, hear a sound or hear your name being called, you. Do. Not. Follow it." 

"They know our names?" Tech's hands stopped mid-air, his helmet almost back on his head, eyes wide in surprise. 

"The planet hears us talk. Of course they know." You almost rolled your eyes at the stupid question coming from the team's genius. Ears everywhere duuh. 

"Rule number two, don't eat or drink anything from now on. Can't have one of us puke their guts or get poisoned or paralyzed." Out of the corner of your eyes, you clearly saw a shiver shake the sniper's body. Lesson learned. 

"Number three, if I say run, you all run. In the same direction would be best, but if it comes down to it, you run and don't stop. We'll regroup afterward. You have trackers on us, right?" 

"If you keep your comlink on you, yes." You patted your pockets in reflex, hand closing around the small object to confirm its presence and alleviate your concerns. 

"Last rule, if I do this," the index, middle and ring finger of your free-hand closed to let only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, "you have to hide, absolutely don't run. Hide. Some of them are guided by movements and you'll only attract them." 

"Hide? But we can blast 'em!" Wrecker's enthusiasm didn't affect you this time around. It was a first. 

" 'm just no sure they'll stop moving if you do. Best to make our way around unnoticed." 

He grumbled his disappointment at having to be silent, it never has been his forte. Plus, he had the added difficulty to hide his imposing stature, so this would be a challenge. Thankfully their armors were almost entirely black, would they have been the usual white with color stripes, it certainly would have been even more difficult to blend in with the vegetation. 

It felt weird giving them orders, like you were totally out of place. And in a sense you were. The newbie wasn't supposed to command the trained soldiers. The newbie followed behind and shut its mouth. 

Well, at least that's what you've always been told and that's what you've always done. It was no use to fight with the other hunters. They were a group of dickheads that deserved hell, but they had more muscles than you. And they were outnumbering. Aaand they were watching each other's back, whereas you were alone without any backup. All that being said, it didn't stop you from making them pay for their hurtful words, harsh treatments, condescending tones and constant bullying, one way or the other. 

For the first time, people let you lead them and it was unsettling. A part of your mind waited for the inevitable low blow to hit you square in the face. You knew the commandos weren't like that, but you couldn't help it. It was a defensive reflex you developed over the years of trying to fit in a world that you were too different to live in. It was totally foreign to be listened to and not berated down, it felt good and terrifying at the same time. 

"Understood?" Your voice softened into an unsure tone, its once imperativeness melted under the weight of your anxiety of being listened to. 

One after the other, they all nodded, gazes full of determination and something else that almost made you sweat. They all showed their trust in you, even Crosshair who you thought didn't like you much, offered you his trust. It meant way too much and stressed you beyond measure. You couldn't let them down and have them killed. Any single one of them. 

Nodding in return, you walked to the tap beside Hunter and forced yourself to swallow the water, pushing down the lump that formed in your throat. You could do it. You could survive the night if you played your cards right. With your knowledge and their excellent combat skills surely you could defend yourselves. Right?

"Blasters ready gentlemen. We have to find a shelter as quickly as possible." You removed the tap from the tree and hid it back into a pocket. 

"A den should be alright or a small cave." 

With one last look at the four of them, you noded to yourself. 

"Good night, good luck." You told them as per habit and hope that the saying would somehow protect you all. Your usual joking self was nowhere to be seen, letting you wear a mask of complete seriousness.

They tensed, apparently getting on the fact that this was an important custom on this planet. 

"Good night, good luck." They repeated, one after the other, causing you to smile tightly at the gesture. 

You took North, continuing away from the ship and into unknown territory. You knew that after a while you'd eventually fall into Forsians hunting territories and then you'd have a better knowledge of the terrain, but those parts of the jungle were still hours away. Hopefully, you'll be able to climb up and make your way back to the ship before getting there. 

"Will you be alright to walk in the dark?" Crosshair's voice erupted from your pocket and you knew this wouldn't work. Each time they'd speak the whole jungle would hear. 

"I'll be fine. Like I said, the best mutate to survive." You winked at the white crosshair on the sniper's helmet. "I can see in the dark. Not full 10/10 on the chart, but enough so I won't ram into a tree."

You fished the comlink out of your pocket and showed it to Tech who was rummaging around in his utility belt pockets.

"Can't have it screaming my position every time someone spea-" 

"I know." He cut you off, presenting you an earpiece.

"This will do." He took your device to connect them together, or so you think. "There. You'll hear us through the earpiece but you still need the comlink to talk." 

He gave you back the electronics and you quickly put the earbud on, comlink returning to your satisfyingly deep pocket. 

"Thanks. We should continue to follow the ravine and hope that we can climb it at some point and return to the ship." 

Agreements resonated in your right ear and you got on your way. It got darker and darker until the only colors you could see were different shades of blue and black. 

The silence around was nerve-wracking, every tree seemed like it would turn around and jump at you at each and every step you took. 

It was nice to quickly fall back in your old habits, feet barely making a sound, eyes recognizing every scratches and marks on the trees let by multiple species marking their territories; Dire bears, Lacergans, Fu-

You almost jumped at the low rumbling whisper right in your ear. Thankfully, your scream stayed in your mind and the only thing jumping was your heartbeat. 

"Movement ahead." You couldn't hear shit, but you trusted Hunter's heightened senses. 

You stopped, the boys getting into their shooting positions at your sides. You could do it. 

"Smell like death." Hunter added with a grunt of displeasure. 

The new information registered like a cold bath, freezing every muscle in your body. The ice-cold bath that just fell over your head paralyzed any transfer of information between the neurons in your brain, leaving you totally helpless for a whole second. Your brain was still out of service when your body just moved on its own, already knowing what to do despite the lack of orders from above. 

The three middle fingers of your free hand closed, letting only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, clearly informing the clones of the course of action. Thankfully, all their gazes got attracted by your moving hand, immediately changing the formation. 

Twiggs broke a bit to the right, still far enough for you to dodge behind a tree undetected, soon joined by Tech who as opposed to you, faced the tree. His chest plate pushed on your torso to get closer to the tree, one of his blasters raised right next to your head, the other grazing your upper arm, caging you in a position that would be extremely hot in totally different circumstances and with a totally different clone. 

At the corner of your eyes, you thankfully noticed Wrecker's imposing form hiding as best as he could behind a particularly thick bush, Hunter standing behind a tree next to him, weapon pointed towards the sky above. Crosshair was nowhere to be seen, so you hoped it meant he found a good spot. 

Rustling leaves and moving grass made you freeze completely. No one moved as the footsteps got nearer and nearer. Of course, this was the first creature you'd encounter. Kribats were the worst creature one could run into. 

They were told to feast on human flesh like there was no tomorrow. They were starved, walking the jungle every night in hope of biting down on some stupidly brave human who ventured the night, but these times were rare nowadays. Almost no one got out at night, reinforcing their desperation for human blood.

It was told that they could paralyze you in fear at simply one glance to their wicked red eyes, allowing the beast to pound on its victims and take their life. It wasn't clear how it killed its preys, but all the versions were unanimous, it was a bloodbath. 

Fors really seemed to hate the Bad Batch. 

If it wasn't enough that the most dangerous monster was hot on your asses, Tech's recording light flashed to life, illuminating your position and burning your retina like a mighty beacon. With a fast but careful movement, you reached around his arm encasing your body into the tree to cover the red traitorous light. 

Blinking the tears away, you really hoped your glare got the message perfectly clear to the engineer. Forget about your hobby for one night, you dumbass!

The rustling grass behind Hunter's tree stopped your breathing, all senses focussed on the beast's movements to know if it detected your group or not. 

Tech's eyes visibly widen behind his visor at the ungodly sight of the creature's emaciated body, the skull of a cervid posed atop a male human body rivaling Wrecker's height was disturbing, but not as disturbing as the sight of all the blood covering its dark skin. There was so much blood that it pooled at its feet, leaving behind a river-like path in the grass. 

The low ragged rumble of the monster passed your tree, surprising you that he hadn't bounced on it to grab you from behind. You glanced at its retreating form and oh this is new. Your version of a Kribat didn't have a feathery tail trailing behind. Now, what could this be useful for? They couldn't fly, could they? 

The Kribat wandered deeper into the depth of the jungle, leaving its imprint on everyone's mind as well as on the jungle floor and all your noses and mouths. 

You waited for a little longer, just to be sure that it was far enough to not catch its attention before nodding to Tech. 

"Clear." He whispered through the comm. 

The first breath you took in almost pulled you to your knees. The smell was atrocious, grabbing you at your throat. Decomposition, blood, acids, they all mixed to form a rancid smell that you could almost taste. 

"What in the Nine Corellian Hells is that?" Crosshair stood from behind a dead trunk on the ground to join everyone at the dark trail. 

"Human blood, flesh and organs." The shredded pieces of meat here and there turned your stomach upside down. 

You were used to flesh and blood. Heck. You were a hunter and often butched your meals yourself. But this flesh was human and the state of it only left you to imagine was it must have felt like to be ripped apart. You didn't want to speculate if the victim was alive or not when it happened. 

"Kribats are craving human flesh but they don't have a digestive system. It gets in and gets out, so they're never satiated." 

"So this one just ate?" Wrecker approached behind you. Now faced with what these beasts were capable of, his enthusiasm disappeared somewhere, letting him wary and if only a little bit scared. 

"It looks like it." You fixed the blood, deep in thoughts. Why were there humans out tonight? 

"I thought no one was supposed to be out at night." Tech inquired while disconnecting the red light on his helmet. 

"They're not supposed to be. It means that something's wrong." You sighed. Tonight couldn't get any better. The planet was throwing a tantrum. 

There was nothing you could do about it, so you focussed back on the present. You swallowed to keep yourself from puking as you dropped to your knees before the red river. 

"And what are you doing?" Crosshair asked, not daring to approach the thing himself. 

"Camouflaging my smell of a juicy living being." With shaky hands, you plunged your fingers through the sticky mixture. You gaged at the feeling but covered your sleeves nonetheless. 

"You guys should cover your armor too. Lucky bastards." At least it wouldn't touch their skin. 

"No way." Crosshair groaned as Tech walked over asking "Why?" 

"Because I want us to survive the night." You deadpanned. There was no time to explain the how and why. 

You stopped breathing for a second to cover your torso and pants, cringing at the warm wetness soaking the fabric. You allowed yourself a second to mourn your once perfect clothes that you loved so much. You'd have to burn them after only one day wearing them. 

At your sides the boys reluctantly followed your lead, grunting in disgust every two seconds. 

You decided to forget your face, this would end badly for your stomach. 

Turning around as you wiped your hands on a clean spot on your pants, you noticed Hunter's clean body leaning on a tree for support, head tilted down with a hand over his heart. You didn't need to be a Jedi to feel his distress at the overwhelmingly nauseating smell. 

"You okay?" His visor lifted to meet your eyes at your worry. You controlled yourself and refrained from pulling him in a hug, you'd only make it worse. 

"Yeah." But he sounded far from okay. 

"We have to continue, but if you stay close, we all should be able to hide your smell without rolling you into the stuff." He grunted in agreement. 

Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker joined your sides, covered in the mixture. 

"Okay. We continue." 

Hoping that your sergeant would get used to the smell, you took the lead once more. You didn't know if his mutation would allow his brain to stop registering the smell after a couple of minutes like everyone else. You mentally crossed your fingers for him. 

The trees seemed taller into the dead of night. The occasional moon rays passing through the leaves made the heavy ambiance slightly more bearable. 

You wondered what a night outside looked like on another planet where no monsters crept their way around. Where you could lay down and watch the stars, not through a tiny crack in the rock like you used to in your village and fully admire the high sky, illuminated by a sea of sparkling orbs. You deeply wanted to experience it with your team who would definitely think you stupidly simple. 

But they would understand. After tonight, they would. 

Your progression was steady for a while, every ears and eyes were focussed around to detect any unwanted creature lurking in the shadows. 

Back to his collected usual self, Hunter finally seemed used to the smell plaguing his nose. To add to the good news, you spotted a mature tree, particularly large. At first glance, it looked like it reached the top of the ravine.

Excitement flooded your veins, a hand lifting to stop the group who tensed in alert. 

"I think this one could get us up." You whispered to them, pointing at the tree.

"It definitely could." Tech scanned the tree, the others still watching the surroundings. 

"I'll go check." You broke away from the formation to get to the closest branch. 

"Wait-" A hand caught your upper arm. 

"Hunter, I'm the best climber here. Plus, you guys will make too much sound for a recon with your armor. I'll make it quick." Your determined eyes met his visor, not willing to get back on your position.  

"Be careful." He released you to position his team around the tree. 

You send him a quick salute before pulling yourself up the tree. You kept your knife in one hand and climbed up several branches. The next one was pretty high, too high for you to reach it without jumping. Your knife found its home at the side of your boot and you focussed on your jump. Crouching slightly, you suddenly extended your legs and pushed with considerable force. Both hands grabbed the top of the desired branch before letting your biceps do the rest of the work. 

"Are you okay?" Hunter called through the comm. 

Leaning on the trunk, you reached in your pocket to retrieve the communication device. 

"Yeah, had to jump to continue. Think I'm almost at the top. I'll be down soon." You answered, looking up to the thinning branches where more moonlight pierced the darkness. 

"Copy that." 

Your comm returned to your pocket to free your hands. Up. Up. Up. In the same minute, you made it to the top. The moon was still low, not fully visible above the line of trees obstructing your vision. 

Now, you noticed that the edge of the damn ravine seemed barely close enough for you to jump there. Maybe Wrecker could throw you there. But how would he reach the top? Checking under the edge, the lack of roots keeping the ground stable was highly disappointing. Even if you were to jump all the way there, the chance of the dirt crumbling under your fingers was too high. 

Quickly, you grabbed your comm to let the boys know that you were coming back. 

With a grumble, you started to descend, moving gracefully from branch to branch without making a sound. The gap you jumped looked pretty big from above, causing you to hesitate for the shortest of seconds. The need to get down was more pressing than your unease so you braced yourself and pushed yourself off your perch to the one below. 

You landed perfectly, both feet on the hard surface, hands wrapped around it tightly to not move further. 

For a second, you were perfectly stable. The next you were falling through the air, propelled by the body hitting you full force. Wood painfully came in contact with your shoulders, arms and back, emptying your lungs before a scream could escape your lips.

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || How He Is After The First Date [Request]

Seokjin:

Once Jin saw that you were safe inside your apartment he started his drive back to the dorms thinking about the day you had just had together. Everything was perfect he made sure of it since it was your first date and he wanted everything to be good for you, he wanted to impress you so he picked you up earlier to go for a road trip towards the beach.

"How was it!?" Namjoon asked as soon as Jin walked through the front door, he seemed more excited than Jin was about the date but just wanted to see how it went. Jin had had a crush on you for a while until Namjoon and Jimin finally convinced him to ask you out and take chance. You'd been best friends with Jungkook since you were kids and he'd introduced you to the boys at the start of the year informing them that if they ever tried anything he would kill them except for Jin. Jin was the only exception to the rule.

"It was fine." Jin lied looking at the boys who were all staring at him and waiting for the real answer, they'd known Jin long enough to know when he was lying about something.

"Alright, it was perfect." Jin laughed walking into the living room and sitting down on the dorm sofa, Jimin asked him what happened and where he'd taken you.

"I took her to the beach and we went for a huge hike together before going to get food."

"He kissed her!" Jungkook announced from the other sofa and everyone stared over at Jungkook who was texting you and trying to get answers out of you.

"You kissed her?!" Jungkook was mad that he'd kissed you because you were like a sister to him but at the same time, he was glad that his friends were happy.

"It was just a peck-"

"We made out at my door..." Jungkook said from the text and Jin bit down on his lip deciding if he needed to make a run for it or not.

"You hurt her-"

"I know, I know. I'm dead." He laughed looking over at Jungkook who was nodding and then going back to texting you and questioning you on everything you did.

Yoongi:

"I'll see you later," You whispered quickly pecking Yoongi on the cheek before going into your apartment, Yoongi couldn't wipe the giant smile from his face as he started his walk back to the studios where Hoseok was waiting to hear about everything.

"He's smiling too much...It's quite scary." Jungkook said when Hoseok walked into the studio they were all sitting in waiting to listen about what you'd done together.

"What did she do to you Hyung?!" Jimin questioned looking at Yoongi who was still smiling, it had to have been hurting his cheeks but if it was he hadn't noticed. He was way too happy for anything to bother him right now, he felt like he could write a whole mini-album on how you made him feel that day.

"Maybe he's broken." Taehyung teased poking his cheeks but Yoongi just smiled and looked over at Namjoon who had been staring at him the entire time.

"He's in love." Namjoon laughed looking at the sight of Yoongi's face, he'd seen it before but never this bad before and they all began to question him on what you were like. They'd only ever heard him talk about you briefly before but they figured since he seemed to be in such a good mood now maybe he would be more than willing to share what it was about you that first drew him in. They wanted to know everything you'd done that day and who you were,

"I'm still not going to tell you." Yoongi laughed looking at them, he wasn't ashamed of you he wanted to keep you as his own little secret for as long as he could since his life was always on public display anyway. That and the longer he kept you away from the boys the less he would have to worry about what embarrassing stories they would tell you to scare you away.

Hoseok:

Jungkook was staring at Hoseok from across the table when Taehyung walked into the kitchen,

"What are you-" He was pulled down next to Jungkook and he just pointed at Hoseok who seemed to be smiling a lot, nothing different since he was always the bubbly one around the dorms.

"Yeah so?" Jungkook shook his head at Taehyung's obliviousness,

"He had his date tonight...remember?" Taehyung turned back to Hoseok and took in his appearance again, he somehow seemed happy than usual and his head was in his phone as he chuckled occasionally.

"Watch this," Jungkook said rolling up a takeaway menu and throwing it at Hoseok's head and it was as if he hadn't even noticed it hitting him directly on the forehead, he was still staring down at his phone and smiling.

"I wanna try." Taehyung took a piece of paper and made it into an aeroplane throwing it at Hoseok but it missed falling onto the floor beside him. From there they took it in turns throwing rolled up pieces of paper at Hoseok's head until Jin walked into the room questioning what they were doing,

"He's too in his phone to realise." Jungkook told Jin and Jin smirked taking the phone out of Hoseok's hand and reading the texts out loud to annoy Hobi into talking again,

"I miss you already! Today was amazing we should do it again soon?" Jin asked looking at Hoseok who was blushing at the words he'd been sending to you. It was true he was missing you already and he couldn't wait to take you out again and to spend more time with you,

"When do we get to meet the one that has made the sunshine happy?" Taehyung quizzed as Hoseok was given back his phone, he smiled at the boys and bit down on his lip.

"I'll introduce you guys soon."

Namjoon:

As soon as the date ended and Namjoon knew you were home safe he was at the studio writing down every thought and feeling he had experienced when he was with you. The date had been perfect and he couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried, even on the way home he found himself thinking about the way you smiled or laughed whenever he told a joke. The way you stared at him and watched him closely whenever he told you interesting facts or just facts in general.

"You've been here all night?" Yoongi questioned when he walked into Namjoon's studio the next day, truth be told Namjoon had lost track of time since he was so lost in his work and didn't even know he hadn't gone home for dinner the night before.

"I guess I have." Yoongi walked over to the piles of paper that were gathering on the wooden coffee table and flicked through them, they must have been at least 13 songs all about the date or the way he was feeling and Yoongi stared at the back of Namjoon's head. He was now composing on the computer and putting backing tracks to the song,

"You wrote all of these last night?" Namjoon nodded turning around to look at Yoongi who was still in shock that he'd written so many songs about one date,

"You could write an album about her Yoongi, the way she acts, the way she sounds...She's my muse." Yoongi laughed as he turned back around to work again and he left the room letting his leader get on with the work he was doing before calling the rest of the boys to let them know he'd found Namjoon.

Jimin:

The front door to the dorms opened and Jin stood there tapping his foot and looking at Jimin who was already smiling, he hadn't stopped all morning since he dropped you off at home.

"You dirty little stop out." Jungkook joked looking at Jimin and then to Jin who still looked angry,

"No call, no text! You could have been killed and I wouldn't even know!" He yelled looking at Jimin who was now staring back at him with the giant smile across his face,

"We got stuck in Busan, the last four trains for the night were cancelled so we went and had food before finding a motel." Jin was still staring at Jimin as if that was any kind of answer to the phone situation,

"My phone died." Jin scoffed at him going on a tangent about how worried he'd been all night wondering where Jimin was and that he was lucky you had to wait 24 hours before filing a missing person report because he would have done that too.

"If we had y/n's number this wouldn't have been a problem." Jungkook said looking at Jimin and hoping it would work but it didn't.

"So you can text her and question her on everything, don't think so." Jimin laughed going over to the kitchen and hunting for something to eat,

"Off!" Jin yelled as he went to touch the food that was cooking for everyone to eat,

"I'm starving."

"Should have thought about that before staying out all night." Jin joked handing Jimin an apple and telling him to go and wake everyone else up.

Taehyung:

Taehyung had come in late from your date it was around midnight and he knew no one would be up since they all had an early practice to he grabbed his laptop and was sitting on the sofa looking through the internet when Jungkook came down the stairs to get some water,

"Where were you?" He asked sitting down next to Taehyung to see what he was doing looking over his shoulder at the internet tabs that he had up,

"We went for a walk along the Han River and then we went to get food," Tae answered without moving his eyes away from the screen he was trying to find somewhere to take you on your next date. He wanted it to be nice and private since he knew his life didn't get to be that private anymore and everything was always on display for people to see.

"You can take a boat to a secret beach for the day," Jungkook suggested taking the laptop away from Taehyung's hands and showing him what he was talking about.

"So what were they like?" Jungkook questioned trying to find out everything he could about you, Taehyung hadn't told the boys much. Just that he'd met you when he was out looking for painting supplies and you were covered in paint trying to reach for something on the top shelf and he got it for you. That was all they knew, he hadn't given them your name because Taehyung knew that with your name they could find out anything they wanted to thanks to the internet and he wanted you to be just his for a little while longer.

"You're not getting anything out of me Jungkook, go to bed." Jungkook pulled at face at Taehyung but since he was so lost in planning the next date he hadn't even noticed.

Jungkook:

The moment Jungkook stepped through the front door to the dorms the boys surrounded him wanting to know how it went and what it was like and where he took you.

"Where did you go together? Did you have fun?" Namjoon questioned looking at the look on Jungkook's face they could all tell that it had been a good first date. He had a giant ear to ear smile that probably wouldn't come off even if you told him a really sad story and he was just happier than usual.

"It was great." He said giving no details on what you both did as he sat down on the sofa and began texting you right away,

"You're supposed to wait three days." Jimin said as he remembered the ''rules'' that were always in all the sit-coms that they watched together.

"I don't think he can wait another ten minutes, he's just asked when they're free next," Yoongi said as he read the messages over Jungkook's shoulder chuckling softly at how needy you were both being together. You were both texting back and forth right away sometimes even multiple texts at once.

"They miss each other already? You've just gotten back didn't you miss us?" Taehyung teased looking at Jungkook who's head was too in his phone to even listen to what the boys were saying to him,

"We've lost him, a fallen soldier," Jin said sarcastically as he disappeared into the kitchen to make something to eat for everyone, Namjoon started at Jungkook as he continued to type a message to you not paying attention to anything around him.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @btsiguess-kpop @callingmyangel @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Gif credit @rainbow-motors

Dean Winchester x Reader 

Words: 1518

Summary: Alone on a hunt for the holidays, 19-year-old Dean calls up his childhood friend. 

Notes: I’ve been obsessed with Young Jensen content and I found this gif (Thanks to the creator!) and I really wanted to write something for a younger Dean. Call me lazy, but I didn’t want to include the hunt itself in this one. I thought writing the moments before and after would be cute, so enjoy! (Bit of a mess, but I hope you like it)

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

“Hey Sammy, it’s me,” Dean started the voicemail grimly. It was the third one he’d left for his younger brother, “I know you’re not happy with me and that’s why you won’t take my calls, but dammit man, I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s just another hunt Sam. I’ll be back before you can say Hanukkah.” He thought for a moment before finishing. “Merry Christmas, Sammy.” 

He ended the message and tossed his phone on the motel bed with a huff. He knew Sam was pissed about him going on a hunt alone, especially over Christmas, but he didn’t think the silent treatment was going to last this long. Dad gave him an order and he wasn’t going to let him down. 

Dean sat down in front of a pile of books and sighed. He hated the research parts of hunts. He just wanted to kill the son-of-a-bitch. Unfortunately, he wasn’t totally sure what this particular son-of-a-bitch was. Over the course of seven years, 15 kids have gone missing right around Christmas time. No notes, no bodies, nothing. If his dad had any theories, he certainly hadn’t shared them. So research time it was. 

About three hours and two illegally obtained beers later, he had a couple of theories ready. It didn’t seem like a spirit or vampires, and without heartless bodies, it wasn’t a werewolf. Since the disappearances always happened around the holidays, he figured that the creature might have Pagan roots. Either that, or it could be a Grinch of a witch somewhere. Whatever it was, it was sure putting a dent in his holiday. 

Maybe that’s why he dialed the number. Sure, his dad told him he needed to do this on his own, but if it really was some Pagan entity, he wasn’t really sure he could take it on by himself- not that he would ever tell his father that. As far as his dad was concerned, Dean could handle anything that the dark world threw at him. But right now, looking at the Christmas lights through the frosty motel window, he wanted a friend. 

“Jack Frost, can’t say I was expecting a call from you.” Your amused voice made Dean smile. You had the phone wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you painted your toenails Christmas Tree green. Just because you were a badass hunter didn’t mean you couldn’t be festive. 

“Hey Y/N,” Dean chuckled, pushing away from the book covered table and cracking open another beer, “how’ve things been on your side of the Midwest?” 

“Oh, you know, vengeful spirit here, vampire there, nothing too exciting.” You twisted the top back on the polish and hopped off the bathroom counter, being careful when you walked so you didn’t get any polish on the carpet. “Mom’s been off with the twins, trying to give them a little bit of a normal Christmas up in Oregon.” 

“Why aren’t you with them?” Dean wondered. Your family wasn’t like his family. You and your mom somehow made it work. You weren’t usually separated, at least not for long. 

“I had a hunch that someone else was going to be needing me this year.” Dean let out a long, frustrated groan.

“Sam called you, didn’t he?” 

“Sammy boy was worried that you’d have a lonely Christmas so he asked me to hang around in case you needed some help.” You shrugged.

“Hang around? What do you mean hang around?” 

“Come to room 114 and find out Dean-o.” With a smirk, you hung up and waited at the foot of your bed, flipping through channels on the television. You settled on a channel that was playing The Year Without a Santa Claus. 

When you heard the knock on the door you walked on your heels to open it. Dean gave you an annoyed glare, but you could tell he was happy to see you. He barreled passed you, nearly knocking you off balance. 

“Watch the feet!” You whined, pointing at your newly painted toes. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“You painted your toenails?” He scoffed. “What are you? 13?” 

“Don’t be a Scrooge, they look nice.” You had long been able to handle Dean’s snarkiness. 

Your mother had run into John Winchester back in 1990 on a spirit case. Dean was 11, you were 10 and Sam and the twins were about 7. While your parents took down the ghost, you and Dean had to babysit. While he was obnoxious at first, the two of you got along pretty well. You bonded over being the oldest siblings, constantly having to look out for your kid brothers, worrying whether or not your parents would come home, remembering the parent that you’d lost, for Dean, it was his mother to a demon, for you it was your dad to a werewolf. 

After that, John and your mom would sometimes meet up if only to have you and Dean look after the younger kids. You even ended up going to the same high school for a while. Dean was probably the closest thing you had in your monster-hunting world to a best friend. And you, not that he would ever say it, were the closest thing he’d ever had to a crush. 

“I think I may have a lead on what we’re looking for here.” You informed, tossing him your journal. Astonished, Dean scanned the page. 

“How did you-”

“I’ve been researching gods in my free time.” 

“You are such a nerd.” Dean scoffed, taking a closer look at something you wrote. 

“Yeah well this nerd has saved your ass more than a fair share so shut it, Winchester.” You smirked, snatching back your journal. “Based on the case files of the missing kids, I have an idea of who we might be dealing with. Gryla is from Icelandic folklore and she, uh, eats naughty children.” 

“And here I complained about the coal.” Dean grimaced. 

“If we don’t figure out where she is, these kids become Christmas dinner.” While you dove into more research, Dean looked over your shoulder at the TV. 

“Are those puppets?” 

You scrambled to turn off the TV, but Dean stole the remote. 

“It’s a Christmas classic.” You reasoned, feeling yourself turn red. “I watched it with the twins all the time when we were kids.” 

“I think it’s adorable.” He leaned ever so closer to you without realizing it. Like a magnet pulling you together, you found yourself inching closer and closer until-

“Are we going to hunt this thing or not?” You suddenly exclaimed, backing away quickly. He was just kidding around. Dean was always pretty flirty. It was just part of your friendship. He didn’t feel that way about you- the way you felt about him. 

-

You burst through your motel room door, half carrying Dean in with you. In a panicked rush, you sat him down on the bed and scrambled to find your first aid kit. 

“At least we beat the damn thing, right?” Dean smirked before wincing at the pain. His wound wasn’t life threatening, but it sure hurt like a bitch. 

“This is going to hurt.” You warned, turning on the radio to drown out any pained sounds that Dean made. As you cleaned the wound, his eyes were locked on you. You tried not to notice. It was the pain that was making him look at you like that. You covered the wound with a bandage and put a fair distance between the two of you. You hoped he couldn’t see how much you were shaking. 

“Everything okay?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine, Dean.” You lied, laughing nervously. “I just got kinda freaked out when I saw her attack you.” 

“You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“I thought you were going to die, Dean, I think that’s a sufficient reason to be a little jittery.” Dean got up from his place on the bed and walked towards you. 

“We’ve known each other for how long, Y/N? I can tell when you’re not telling me the whole story.” 

You ignored him, electing to listen to the Christmas music coming from the radio instead. It was one of your favorites. You mouthed the words to yourself. 

“Through the years, we all will be together. If the fates allow.” 

“Fate hasn’t exactly been our friend.” You scoffed. 

“Huh?”

“The song. It says ‘if the fates allow’. Fate doesn’t seem to like us this year.” 

“I don’t believe in all that.” Dean said, shaking his head. “And if I did, it looks like ‘fate’ has had it out for me for the past fifteen years.” 

“Fair enough.” You crossed your arms over your chest, watching snow start to fall outside the window. Neither of you said anything. You both just watched the white flecks tumble down to the earth. You turned around and found him standing right behind you. It didn’t startle you. It felt like he was meant to be close to you. You breathed in slowly before whispering. “Merry Christmas Dean.” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

You didn’t need any mistletoe for what came next. 

[trollartistry]

“Jaws of the Gator” - What If?

I wasn’t planning on posting this here HOWEVER @jelly-belly-fish herself loved this snippet I wrote and wanted me to post it so here we go.

This is a ‘what if’ based on her drabble, where my AU Killersona is involved.

TW: This contains quite a bit of swearing and a hint of mind-control at the end.

“Good…” Freddy whispered in pain, “he…made it..out..”

Glamrock Freddy mustered up the ability to look up to the upper fake gums of the mouth. He closed his eyes in thought.

“I’m sorry, little one…” he groaned, “I’m sorry I can’t be there for you for the rest of the night…but…the show is over for me..”

And with that, Freddy only waited for the jaws of Monty to fulling close on him.

"Move it, brat." That voice- the one that belonged to a bulky man with a jackalope mask, one that had been hunting Gregory just like Vanny was. Freddy gave a squirm under the force, his already-cracking joints somehow still able to hold himself now that he knew Gregory still wasn't safe.

"RUN, GREGORY!" He yelled through the pain. He tried to push himself up, to fight back against the maw crushing him, yet the force was too great for him to properly get off of his hands.

He watched as a paw-like boot suddenly stomped onto the bottom jaw as two gloved hands grabbed between sharp teeth above, and he heard a great grunt from the other side. Whether it was thanks to Freddy's own pushing or adrenaline giving him freakish strength, the man was able to force those jaws open just a few inches more. He leaned down and Freddy expected the freakishly yellow eyes of a mask glaring him down- not piercing green filled with determination and.. worry?

He didn't have time to think on it- the man's next move was to force himself in, adult-sized golf club in hand. The sociopath stabbed the club upwards into the roof of the fake maw, forcefully opening it further with the club until the object acted as a support beam, giving Freddy just enough room to wiggle free on his own- if he had been given the chance.

"C'mere!!" The man reached forward suddenly, roughly grabbing Freddy by his cracked chest piece and gave a yank. Either he didn't care if his actions caused more damage to Freddy's shell, or he was too worried to realize it.

With a great tug the two stumbled out of the maw, Freddy being dropped onto the ramp next to Gregory as the man stumbled back a few feet, a few cuts along the fabric of his suit and revealing some cuts thanks to the sharp teeth. He panted heavily, watching as that club in the mouth shook and bent, before it snapped and the sound of massive jaws clamping shut rumbled through the area, eyes glowing red.

"We had a DEAL!!" The man roared into the air, to whoever was still listening. Gregory ran to Freddy's side, both to check up on his guardian and to tuck close in fear as this was one of the killers that was actively with him. "I help you get the kid, and the bear goes unharmed!! You BROKE that deal Monty, and you're gonna pay for it!!"

"F-Freddy-" He began and Freddy hushed him softly, holding him close as he stared at the man. It was the first time he saw him maskless- the long brunette hair in the front covered a bit of the mans face, but he could still see those eyes, now full of rage. If Freddy was supposed to go unharmed, what for?

It was silent after the man's threat, before the eyes on the giant gator head returned to normal and slowly the jaw opened again back into its horrifying smile. He turned to the two, Gregory flinching back and Freddy giving a soft glare.

"What, no thank you?" The man sneered softly, as if he had done them both a massive favor. Well, he kinda did. But it was.. almost hypocritical considering the man was supposed to be out for Gregory. Freddy steeled himself, curious thoughts hushing for a moment as he stood and nudged Gregory behind him.

"You had a perfect opportunity to snatch Gregory up and leave me to get crushed. Why did you save me?" He asked, and the man looked caught in the headlights. His threatening demeanor dissolved into one that reminded Freddy of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, before he scowled at the bear.

"None of your fucking business, teddybear." He snarled, clenching his fists angrily. He stepped away to the nearby bushes where his mask was, speaking as he did, "In any case, you need to get out of here before Monty- the real Monty and not his ugly ass face, comes looking for you two. Door to the left is broke open- you're welcome for that."

Freddy and Gregory shared an unsure glance, the bear especially suspicious of this whole thing. He glared at the back of his supposed savior with a growl, "And why should I trust that nobody is over there waiting to ambush us?"

"Do you want to keep playing this stupid game?" The man looked over his shoulder with a scowl, "I get you and the kid got some daddy-son shit going on and you wanna entertain the little brat but his safety should be your number one priority."

"I-" Freddy felt his servos whir a little faster as he would blush if he could, having been called out for how he treated Gregory so nicely. His reply to the man though was interrupted though- the moment that gloved hand scooped up that terrifying mask, he suddenly dropped to his knees with a loud scream of agony.

Gloved hands grabbed into a messy nest of brown hair as the man screamed, pulling as if he dislodged locks of hair it would stop the pain piercing through his skull. Freddy grabbed Gregory up, the boy latching on in fear as they watched him hunch over.

"N-Nnoo.. get.. out of my h-head..!" The man groaned, clenching his teeth as he glanced to the pair. Freddy could see the sheer fear there, either for them or himself the bot wasn't sure.

"GO!! Before- he makes me.. ghhh..!" The man hunched over again. Freddy wanted to come closer, see if there was anything he could do- before he saw the shine of a blade under the same bush the mask rested on, and the man had a hand inching closer.

As much as it hurt to leave someone in need, Freddy fled. He held Gregory close as he ran, finding the open door and running through as the man told him to. Behind them, cries of pain turned into manic laughter, as control over him was regained..

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.1

Type: One-shot/ch1 of a series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4100

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

Neither Steve Rogers nor you consider yourself lucky though. It probably has something to do with the lines written on your skin. Because if the words are anything to go by, you’re not sure you want to meet each other.

Warnings: swearing, light angst, FLUFF 

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Steve Rogers was born a sickly baby.

Born a sickly boy to a single mother in the time of great depression, money thin, his health even thinner and having a pathetic number of friends; though that never really bothered him. What his friendships lacked in quantity was hundred times compensated by quality. Bucky Barnes’ loyalty was everything Steve could ask for.

And what Steven Grant Rogers himself lacked in height and strength of body was made up for by the strength of will, amount of determination and a great compassionate heart, ready to welcome anyone sans bullies there.

Perhaps God had seen that Steven would grow into a man carrying his heart on his sleeve and decided that this man should be blessed with a love so magnificent they would tell stories about it; people always had. People were always telling tales about soulmates.

Having a soulmate wasn’t necessarily rare, but not everyone was bound to have one. Being one of the lucky ones was an amazing gift; a promise of a connection as unbreakable as the thread of fate, a promise of an unconditional love.

To know person had found the one, their soulmate, those who were blessed with one wore a brand on their skin, a clue to allow them to recognize their destined partner; a set of words.

It was the set of words what was troubling Steve Rogers the most. Despite Bucky’s reassurance, despite his mother’s last words, despite Steve willingness to fight everything else the world would kick into his way, he found moments in his life he cursed the words written on his skin, reminding him how weak he would always seem to people.

Above the visible line of his collarbone, sticking out on his rather skeletal frame, there sat the words of doom:

‘Oh no, there must be a mistake.’

The very first time his soulmate would spoke to him… they would be disappointed and silently praying that whatever force was behind bounding souls together made one hell of a misstep. A mistake.

That was what Steve was going to be to his soulmate; a mistake. A failure. A disappointment.

And why wouldn’t he be? Ninety pounds of rattling bones, list of illnesses longer than his birth certificate…. Every girl Bucky had ever tried to set him up with out of pity (which Bucky would deny until his last breath) had been disappointed.

“Maybe she’ll be more into brunettes. Maybe she won’t believe her soulmate is blond at first,” his friend would say, “or she’ll be from Queens and wouldn’t get over the fact you’re not, but once you’ll show her the true Brooklyn charm, she’ll fall to your feet.”

Then he would always pat Steve’s shoulder, pulling him into a one-arm hug and tried to get him a date once more.

Steve didn’t believe him. He never did, but recognizing his friend felt better if Steve played along, he would smile and poke his ribs in return.

“Whatever you say. Jerk.”

…

Much later, when he said to Peggy Carter that he was waiting for the right partner to dance with, he was starting to admit to himself that he wasn’t thinking about his so-called soulmate as the one. After all, he went against all odds, against rules, against destiny itself when he had been accepted to the army regardless of his fragile body. Maybe, just maybe it meant that not ending up with his soulmate was what would happen one day.

When he crushed the Valkyrie to the ocean, not even having taken a chance on Peggy Carter despite her obvious interest, he must admit he had been lying to himself.

His last realization concerned his soulmate; despite wanting to fight against the whole world, he couldn’t make himself to take a chance on Peggy Carter, a brilliant woman who was not carrying the right set of words.

His last regret was that he would never meet his true love.

His last thought was that maybe, his soulmate never had a set of words spoken by him on her skin – her first words to him might as well be the ones spoken when reading his obituary, somehow knowing he was supposed to belong with her.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

The moment you were old enough to understand the meaning of the word ‘soulmate’, you were intrigued by the concept; it probably had everything to do with the fact that you too were supposed to have a person meant to be your other half.

Every parent was bound to be delighted when their child was born with that kind of blessing, but the older you were getting, the more you understood what kind of a shock might occur when a kid had rather strange line supposedly spoken to them by their universe-chosen partner for life.

There were people who had words like ‘shit’ on them; literally. Not very delightful. Sometimes there were general lines like ‘Hello, how are you?”. Good luck hunting down the right person. In contrary, some people had a name on them; ‘Hi, I’m Peter Cameron.’ Lucky bastards.

And then… then there were people like you, whose words were just… weird.  

“But I really am 95,” you mumbled under your breath, tracing the handwriting right under your collarbone subconsciously, the first thing you did in the morning if you remembered – which wasn’t every day, not by a long shot.

“This is the stupidest thing ever…”

You shook your head and started to get ready for your day at the office.

Your opinion on your soulmark had been changing during the years. You had had a period of fascination, simply being proud of carrying it. Then you had understood the meaning of your words, and you had been horrified and desperate at the idea of meeting your soulmate at such age or worse, having one that old while you would be thirty or something when encountering them.

Then had come the phase of how could I avoid having a grandpa as my soulmate. Maybe the number meant something different – your soulmate’s weight (you really wouldn’t care for that, you reasoned), his temperature (he might be hypothermic at the moment, no?), his hotel room number, the number of a seat in a theatre perhaps… there were so many possibilities, right?

Now, you just tried not to think about it too hard. You had had boyfriends, never lasting longer than few months sans the one exception of George, who had turned out to be the biggest asshole in the world despite your belief he had might have been the one; until you had caught him in bed with another girl.

Maybe it was that deep inside you had never believed in the relationships you had, because the guy never said the right first words. Or maybe you were full of shit and you couldn’t keep a guy interested, god only knew – hence not thinking about it too hard, going on with your life and taking it as it was.

You might meet him, you might not. It wouldn’t be the first case of never encountering a soulmate. Life was funny that way.

Best not to let it ruin your day. A rather nice day it was, today. If you only didn’t have to spend it in the crowded office with people demanding their licences and taking out their frustrations on you. Well. You were a grown-up; you had to be okay with things not always being okay. Which sucked. But that was life.

…

You had a chance to have a shortest coffee break to exchange ‘hello’s with Ryan – your actual favourite person in the world, your platonic ‘soulmate’ (not in the ominous sense of the word), your boss who never really acted like a boss – and that was it. Apparently, half of Manhattan had gotten their licence this very date years back, so the office was ridiculously crowded. Thank god for the glass between you and the jungle; it shielded you at least partly.

You grabbed the file of request no. 57 that day – you were like a machine, okay, you couldn’t remember the office ever managing to deal with so many in only three hours – pulling out the documents and the licence to make another driver happy.

Your hands were acting on autopilot and you didn’t even glance up when an ID was pushed to you through the small space between the glass and the counter, checking the renewed licence first.

Your first thought was ‘oh wow’. That guy on the photo was gorgeous. You couldn’t help but snap your head up, checking out the real-life thing.

OH WOW.

Scratch the ‘gorgeous’. Replace it with ‘unreal’.

You were tempted to ask if he was made by an ancient sculptor and then brought to life, because his body was as incredible as his face; the broadness of his shoulders begged for a touch. His muscular arms were not so hidden in the sleeves of his dark green shirt. The shoulder-waist ratio was clearly a God’s mistake, a one you were thankful for.

Forget ancient sculptures. His face must have been sculptures by angels and they left him with a halo of blond hair as a reminder. And his eyes. Oh god, such pretty eyes…

He gave you an unsure smile, opening his mouth to probably accuse you of staring and you quickly dropped your gaze, returning to check the licence before you would give it to him.  

Your hand froze hovering above the date of birth. You hesitantly looked up again, biting your lip guiltily despite not being the one who had messed up. You felt kinda sorry for him waiting the line for nothing.

“Oh no, there must be a mistake…” you half apologized, half said only to yourself, meeting his suddenly alarmed gaze.

You put on your most apologetic face, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad. How had someone messed it up again? The birth dates were with typos all the time. How?! There were only numbers for God’s sake! It wasn’t like the person inserting the data to the computer had to spell Buchwald or Mxyzptlk or something like that!

Damn you, Sheryl or Kira or you whoever have done this!

The man – Steven Grant Rogers, as you had learned from his sadly valueless driving licence – was staring at you, speechless. You were honestly getting worried, though you weren’t sure if you were more scared for him or for yourself in case of his reaction escalating.

So you went to explain.

“Uhm… I’m really sorry, mister-“ You quickly eyed the name ID he had given you, checking if the office got the name right at least. “-Rogers, but there seems to be a typo in… in your birth date. I apologize for the mistake our institution made, even though I wasn’t the one to-- you don’t need to know that, it doesn’t matter-- I’m so sorry you have to come here again, but I can’t really let you walk around or rather drive around with a licence claiming you were born in 1918, so…”

You had become so flustered, your cheeks burning, talking and talking without being able to stop, not making any sense even, until-

“But I really am 95,” he admitted sheepishly and you wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, when something in your brain clicked.

The click was about as loud as an atomic bomb falling on Hiroshima. You were sure everyone had to hear it.

It shut you up immediately. Your whole body froze, your mind buzzing uselessly, not a single thought staying long enough for you to actually understand it. Until two words got stuck, shining in red letters like a neon sign in your brain.

Holy. Shit.

“Excuse me,” you squeaked, grabbing his useless licence and mechanically rising from your seat, walking away.

The moment no one could see you as you got into a hallway, you broke into a run. You acted on instinct. You ran and you ended up in front of Ryan’s office, stumbling in without knocking and without an atom of oxygen left in your lungs.

Ryan’s neatly combed hair swayed as he snapped his head to the door, his eyes strict until they took the newcomer – hint: you – in, widening instantly.

He quickly jumped to his feet, pacing to you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice filled with worries.

You weren’t able to answer, because—holy shit. Your eyes frantically scanned the room, unable to meet your friend’s gaze. “I-- I-“

A hand landed on your shoulder, your eyes immediately falling on it on instinct. Shit, you couldn’t breathe. Could you?

Ryan’s free hand found you chin, tilting your head so you faced him. “Hey, baby, look at me! What happened? Was someone too much of an asshole to you?”

“I’m not-- he’s-“

Ryan’s face screamed concern, but he had fixed it in a second, soothing smile on his lips. He led you to his sofa, the calming blue cushions enveloping you.

“Sit down on your ass and gimme that,” he maneuverer the document off the steely grip of your fingers, sitting next to you as he looked it over. “Huh, quite a looker this guy. So what did he do?“

“I—the- the licence says he was born in---in 1918,” you stammered, finally able to breathe in properly and speak.

Ryan squinted at the date and then rolled his eyes.

“Oh jeez, again? Why is it so hard to just get it right? I swear I’m gonna have to fire Sheryl, she’s a disaster. What’s wrong with her? It’s not like they would be making a licence for someone that old! There’s a photo goddammit!”

“Ry-Ry… he said he was 95.”

Another eye-roll was his answer. “Yeah, I can count. He would have been if he was born in 1918 instead of 1981.”

“No, you don’t-“ you licked your lips and swallowed against the lump that grew in your throat. Your voice was as shake as your hands. “He just told me that. That he really was 95.”

Your friend observed you silently for a beat, not following. And then realization hit him like a train.

“Oh. OH. No shit?!”

It was your turn to stare silently, your mind loud enough to make noise and fill the space of Ryan office.

“Damn, does he really look like that? Lucky bitch!”

“Ryan!” you yelped in surprise when his fist bumped your shoulder, almost knocking you off balance.

It worked though. It grounded you and threw you back to reality. You tried your best to calm your breathing, but damn. This guy… he was your soulmate. You just met your soulmate. And he wasn’t a grandpa. He didn’t weight 95 pounds either. You weren’t in a hotel, neither in a theatre.

No. The number was only about one tiny mistake— oh, ohhh shit, what was the first thing you had said to him? Oh fuck. Way to go, girl!

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked rubbing the spot he had punched.

“No!” you shot back immediately, your mind racing.

“You know what I mean. You look better now. Though I gotta say, so is he. His face really is quite easy on the eyes. How about the rest of him?”

Ry-Ry, your bi-side is showing.

You chuckled at the easy talk, the tension from your shoulders falling a bit.

“Well… yeah, he’s like a model. So out of my league…” you muttered, remembering your ogling. This guy was your soulmate? Wasn’t it a mistake?

Ryan was suspiciously quiet; normally you would expect him to scold you for selling yourself short. Instead, he was staring at the licence, his lips parted in silent shock.

What now?

“What?” you demanded, following his line of gaze.

Ryan just chuckled, the incredulous sound ringing, echoing in the quiet space. “Girl, I hate to break it to you, but I might not fire Sheryl just yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Remember that one time aliens were falling from the sky?”

You blinked in surprise at that question, not following his train of thoughts. “Uhm… yeah? Pretty hard to forget that…?”

You were lucky you hadn’t been smashed under a building that day. Many people in Manhattan were, some sadly not. So yeah, you remembered.

“You remember the waitress from the café talking after the incident?”

“Oh my god, Ry-Ry, just spill it! I’m not following!”

Your friend huffed in exasperation, shoving the licence in your face, his finger on the name.

Steven Grant Rogers. Yeah, you could read too.

“That name should ring a bell, you dumbass! Would you say that this guy is handsome enough to be Captain America?” he hissed, making your heart stop.

Oh. Oh shit.

OH SHIT.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Oh my god. He really is 95,” you breathed out, your brain somehow choosing the least logical reaction to this whole revelation.

Ryan laughed. “Ding-ding, we have a winner! Holy crap, baby, I think you just got yourself a superhero soulmate!”

And just like that, you started panicking again. You gulped, watching the driving licence as if it could blow up.

“Shit, Ry-Ry! What do I do?” you whispered, desperation soaking through. What were you supposed to do upon that revelation? Captain America was your freaking soulmate!

Ryan smiled at you reassuringly, patting your cheek. “Not coming back to your spot behind the counter today, that’s for sure.”

“But-“

“I’m going in. I think this place won’t blow up if I fill in for once. I sure hope I remember the process, though I’m probably not gonna be as efficient as you are.”

You didn’t know what to say. Hell, you didn’t know what to do! But yeah, not coming back to the jungle sounded good, especially given your frantic escape.

“You really would do that?” you asked hesitantly and Ryan just rolled his eyes. “But… Ryan, what the hell do I do?!”

Your bestie gave you a lopsided smile and a wink, patting your cheek patronizingly once more before heading to take over your workplace.

“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

While you were having your own freak-out, Steve was standing at the counter, dumb-struck.

He couldn’t believe it. You had actually said those words. And judging by your reaction to his own, he must have said yours. Which… yeah, congratulation, Rogers, you had given your Universe-chosen dame an amazing note on her skin. To be fair, so had she.

Incredible.

Impossible.

His soulmate was in this century. In this millennia. That was what he got for ever thinking he could escape fate; a slap right in his face.

Because while for several cherished moments, he basked in the light on his soulmate not considering the pairing with him the infamous mistake the words on his skin claimed… he soon learned that it didn’t mean no heartbreak for him.

You had taken an abrupt leave to the back of the office and never came back.

Few minutes later, a man emerged from the door you had disappeared into, taking your seat and without a second look on Steve’s ID, he explained that Steve would have to come here again.

Steve didn’t care for the process of getting his driving licence renewed in the slightest, barely listening. His gaze was at the door to the hall, opened ajar, the door you didn’t return from after learning he was meant to be your partner.

When he had seen you behind the desk, he had considered you a beautiful dame, certain his heart had skipped a beat when your eyes met his. The sight of you was burned into his brain, now forever as a painful memory.

Clearly, you didn’t want him. Not because he was sickly, 95 pounds or 5’7’’ or all bones. Not because your words to him were about a mistake. Not because he was from Brooklyn. No. Honestly, Steve didn’t know why, what could scare you off so soon. He just knew you had escaped at the mere sight of him.

With his mind fuzzy, he walked out of the building into the bright nearly midday sun, blaming the sharp rays for the sting in his eyes. He sighed, running his hand down his face, suddenly bone tired.

“Mr. Rogers?” a shy female voice addressed him, instantly making him turn around to its source.

His lips parted in awe. There you stood, your airy floral dress reaching your knees, played with by the softest breeze. Hesitant smile on your lips. A tiniest spark in your eyes as he subconsciously took two steps to you, just to prove you would still be there if he came closer. You didn’t disappear.

“Y-yes?” he stuttered, actually feeling like the small man he had used to be before the serum.

You quietly introduced yourself, meeting his eyes once more, effectively stopping his heart again. You offered your hand for him to shake and he, feeling like he was dreaming, something else possessing his body, kissed your knuckles as he would have done if meeting you seventy years ago.

The most adorable heat warmed your cheeks at the gesture and you casted your gaze down; but Steve did catch a glimpse of the earlier spark shining brighter before you hid yourself from him

“I… I believe we have a lot to talk about,” you whispered and he instinctively gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and shifting a half step closer to you. The corners of his lips unwittingly turned up, something warm building up in his chest as you returned the smile with hesitance.

“Yes, I think we do.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Nicolas J. Fury was sitting in his office, waiting for the door to finally open. There was something bugging him – and that something was about 5’7’’ tall, had red hair and was doing whatever it wanted, messing with his business. On top of that, she left him waiting; he had requested her ten minutes ago and she still hadn’t arrived.

He couldn’t help but let his sarcasm show when she came eventually.

“Agent Romanoff. Thank you for coming. Now, care to explain me why did you insist on Rogers getting his driving license renewed in person when we have done it for him already?” he demanded, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk.

The agent just shrugged. “He needs to meet people.”

“Don’t give me this shit, Natasha! What are you not telling me?”

Slow smirk spread Natasha’s lips, perhaps a bit smug, but she didn’t say a word.

“Romanoff-“

“Alright! Jeez, Nick, you have to work on your patience when it comes to Rogers, I swear…” she teased him. However, at least she started talking. “I might have run his… words through the system Stark provided us.”

Realization dawned to Fury. There was only one system she could be talking about. The soulmate matching one. Insert the words of a person and it would search the database for a possible match; everyone’s words were being put into the database at their birth. It made SHIELD’s work easier in case criminals happened to have a soulmate; the connection was so unique it usually offered a weak spot even for the rotten people.

Nicolas Fury raised his eyebrow expectantly, while Natasha just watched him, amused as she had the upper hand. The man rolled his functioning eye and sighed exasperatedly. Why was he keeping her around again? Oh right, she was his best agent.

“Fine. Did you find a match?”

Natasha snorted. “I didn’t even have to look for a match. There aren’t many women with ‘But I really am 95’ written on their skin,” she explained dryly and Fury just wanted to growl, cursing mentally.

How had no one thought about using the database in the first place?! It had cost them a lot of money, okay? They had it for a reason!

“She clean?” he inquired instead or swearing out loud and Natasha scoffed.

“Like a whistle, not even a speed ticket, which is rather ironic. She’s boring, really – she’ll be perfect for him. Can I go now? I have an ass to kick.”

“…Rogers’?”

“Barton’s, actually. Have a good day, Director,” Natasha spun on her heels and headed to the exit gracefully.

“Hey, I want her file!” Fury complained, already knowing he wasn’t going to receive it from her.

“Find it yourself!” she threw over her shoulder cockily, her red hair swirling with the sudden movement of her head.

The director of SHIELD tried to keep his amusement in check, controlled by the irritation, but he lost. The corners of his lips twitched as the door clicked behind his best spy.

Why did he keep her around again?

He started the search for the words Natasha had said, sinking into his chair comfortably.

Alright, no doubt future Mrs. Rogers. Let’s see how boring you really are.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 2 (originally this was only meant a one-shot)

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Tags: @cxptain @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx​

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

If you wish to be tagged/untagged, let me know - either via an ask or a message :)

Thank you for reading!!