#i need to draw them all the time < guy whose wrists hurt so so so bad

[spoopdeedoop]

thinking about cbeeduo again seventy injured twenty two dead

[yameoto]

TOP TEN BENEFITS. JORDAN, CATE, ANDRE.

synopsis ; you and godolkin's finest go out for some fun, just like any other night. little do you know, is that they have a little more in store for you than just partying.

oh. also, you're luke's girlfriend—not like that's going to stop them.

✗ warnings ; dark!jordan, dark!cate, dark!andre, cnc, dubcon, intox, foursome, cheating, strap-fucking. wc ; 1.9k

DISTANTLY, you can hear voices. you're not sure, really; your head's all dizzy and groggy, and your mouth is so dry you wonder if you’ve been chewing on cement. god.. you really can’t remember anything. how strong were those drinks?

"we sure about this, guys?" comes a voice, echoing on the outskirts of your mind. it's familiar. masculine.. or feminine? you really can't tell—not in this state, at least.

"of course we're sure." someone else interjects, gruffer, this time, clearly masculine. it sounds a lot like.. andre..?

"i mean, look at her," whispers another, voices so low—like they're trying not to wake you. this one's higher, more feminine and— oh that's definitely cate. "how could we not?"

how could they not what? nothing makes sense—not in your foggy, hungover brain at least; one that you're becoming increasingly suspicious is addled by something stronger than shots. but that can't be right—you hadn't blown lines with the others, had you? no, you definitely hadn't. so why does your head hurt so fucking much?

"guys..?" you mumble, trying to sit up on what you distantly realise is a bed, the edges of your vision still blurry. as it adjusts, you're met with the sight of jordan, andre and cate all standing over you, eyes strangely lidded, gleaming. "shit— she's up," jordan hisses, grip on your thigh tightening, and its then that you realise your skirt is gone—the entire stretch of your legs exposed to the three of them.

"fuck," cate sighs, lips drawing into a pout as you feel her hand, bare hand, hover over your other thigh, head jerking up to face the others with a frown on her lips. "should i do it again?"

"no," jordan and andre hiss in unison, exchanging a meaningful look as their fingers twitch, restless. "c'mon, you know you want her awake for this."

"awake for what?" you grumble, head throbbing far too much for you to wrap your head around the conversation. "i'm too hungover for this." you swing your legs off the edge of the bed, reaching for your discarded skirt before two pairs of her hands shoot out to stop you. your vision swims, and with a disconcerting lurch you realise you're so fucked-up you can't even tell whose is who's.

"you won't need that." jordan mutters, breath hot against your cheek as they curl their hand around your wrist, dragging it firmly into their lap. what the fuck?

"sorry about the skirt," cate hums affirmatively, eyes drifting to the poor, ripped thing on the floor and you swear you see the beginnings of a smirk curl her lips "someone got a little excited."

"hey—" andre puts his hands up, not looking too sorry at all. in fact, he looks like he's barely restraining a grin. "don't act like you two weren't drooling—"

"touché." jordan interjects, eyes rolling yet looking entirely too pleased with themselves as they play with your hand in their lap, inching it up their own thigh. “you look better without it, doll.”

"warm her up, jordan." cate's eyes flash, gaze boring into the sight of you, splayed against the pillows, and you resist the urge to whimper.

"don't tell me what to do," jordan grumbles, but there's a grin stretching at their lips and you almost wonder if cate used her powers with the speed in which they comply. their loose grip on your wrist becomes inordinately tight as they deftly undo their belt, dragging their pants and boxers down in one, swift move.

oh, fuck.

"hold on— i—" you splutter, stupidly, glancing between the three of them and jordan's throbbing, leaking cock. it gently bobs into your hand; head pink, glistening with pre-cum and you just want to—wait, what?

you're dating luke. you're dating luke. a spike of panic sends you twisting, surprisingly lucid for a moment as you attempt tugging your wrists away—to no avail, of course. top ten ranking aside; you don't stand a chance against three supes, especially not the three of them.

"hey— shh." jordan catches you, eyes flashing for a moment as they slowly, ever so slowly, guide your hand back to their cock—grunting when your fingers limply wrap around their tip. "fuck, that's it.." they groan, head tilting back. jesus fucking christ.

you don't even realise it when andre drags your panties down your thighs—and your flush only deepens at how fucking wet you are. that has to be the high, right? there's no way—why else would your cunt be dripping into the goddamn sheets, like that? for three of your friends? boyfriend absent from the room, no less. a feeble, embarrassed whine falls from your lips, as three hungry pairs of eyes have no shame in hiding how much they want to fucking devour you.

"look at you, so fucking wet." ande’s voice comes a deep rumble, belt unbuckling with a click as he inches closer. his hands slide over your thighs as he moves over, all the way, and you make another strained noise as his cock hits your belly.

"i think it's cute." cate hums, eyes glimmering as she leans across the bedspread, hands wrapping around the base of andre's eager, bobbing cock and directing it towards your splayed legs. andre’s basically fucking trembling with restless need, cate’s own breaths shallowing, picking up the pace. "luke ever get you this wet?"

your teeth tuck into your bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut because god, luke.. what the hell are you doing here? it feels like betrayal. it is betrayal—they need to stop—this is wrong—

you whine, making a choking noise as jordan’s grasp on your wrist steels enough to snap bone. you want to say; luke—? yes—he fucking has—i think—but you find you barely have the strength to moan, let alone protest.

“nah, i don’t think so.” jordan smirks, smug, as if they know exactly what’s going through your head as their hand guides yours; forcibly pumping your hand along their length. their frustrated growls of pleasure are enough to make you blush—let alone the feeling of andre’s hands roughly shoving your legs apart, spreading your folds open with two of his fingers. you whine, quivering, glazed pupils meeting his.

"fuck, luke's gonna kill us—" andre grunts once he finally rams into you, audibly groaning as you slam into the blankets with each thrust, inciting the most strangled little cries from your throat. it’s so much—you can’t help but thrash a little, under his touch. cate lets out a displeased hum, though at his words or his roughness you can't tell.

"what luke won't know won't hurt him." jordan counters from the other side of you, lips twisting into a grin as they bite into your shoulder, still moving your hands in thrusts along their length.

they keep shifting—each time you're distracted by cate or andre the feeling of their cock twitching under your hands changes to fingers sinking into sloppy, wet heat. it's ridiculous how hot it makes you, just jacking them off—but it’s not like you have any room to comment with andre thrusting into you like an animal, snarls coming out of his mouth as each movement sends you reeling with white-hot, carnal pleasure.

"move, you brute." cate interrupts, voice cutting through the blinding, purely instinctual pleasure of andre pumping you full like a rutting dog. her eyes glitter with an annoyance that give way to barely-restrained lust, and in your sex-drugs-cate induced haze (you're still not quite sure which it is, yet), you faintly register the plastic in her hand; long, thick, pink and fuck— is that a strap?

"not yet, cate, i'm almost done—" andre cuts himself with a guttural, bestial moan as his cock rams into you, again. you can feel it twitching inside of you; hear his breaths growing shallower as he grips your hips, so tight they might bruise. "oh, fuck—!" he groans loudly as he comes, thick, hot seed filling you up, hips still thrusting as he crams as much of his load into you as he possibly can. it takes a beat before he reluctantly pulls out, chest heaving.

"fuck, you felt so good," he groans, hands clumsily tugging you forward for a kiss before he's promptly pushed off before your lips can touch. "about fucking time." cate grunts, voice sharp, weight of andre on top of you replaced by two long, toned legs swinging on either side of your body, cate's hands running over that fucking strap at her hips. her lips curl into a smirk as your eyes—still glassy from andre's force—blink blearily up at her. you’re still so dazed, so adorable. she leans down to cup your chin. "you're such a pretty little thing," she murmurs, thumb brushing against your bottom lip, gaze darkening as she begins to prise your mouth open, gleam in her eyes giving away to sheer, unadulterated lust.

"open wide." she whispers, and that's the only pre-empt you get before you're choking on silicone, her hips bucking forward as she shoves herself into your mouth. her hands tighten in your hair, jerking you forward so that the entire length forces itself down your throat. tears spring to your eyes. you feel jordon's hands getting rougher as they use you to fuck themselves, teeth digging into your skin to muffle their own whines while your own, keening “mmfs—!” peter out to soft, quiet whimpers.

"you're so good for us," jordan moans, burying your fingers hilt-deep into their cunt, walls pulsing desperately around you. "so fucking good," cate assents with a breathy, pleasured groan of her own, back snapping as if it were her own cock that you’re gagging around. from behind her, andre’s hands are wrapped around himself, moving furiously as he arches over the bed. “you have no idea how long we’ve wanted this.” he hisses, one hand madly jerking himself off to the sight of cate fucking your face like she owns you, the other tangling in your hair. cate audibly moans, bucking into you further with a sharp inhale. "wish i could come in you for real." she mumbles, fingers running along your jaw as you splutter around plastic. she smiles, tilts her head up to look at jordon as they mutter something unintelligible, her thrusts increasing in pace, fucking your throat so raw, so good. "jordan's got something special to give you." she murmurs, voice honey sweet, hand dancing up your cheek.

you can hardly gargle a response through the strap in your mouth—but you don't have to. not when, with a resounding moan, all questions are answered with jordan promptly shooting their load all over your face, thick, hot strings of cum leaking around the edges of the strap and seeping into your mouth. they both groan, jordan slumping into your side with soft, intermittent pants.

"god.." they mutter into the crook of your neck, cate's thrusts slowing as she starts to loosen her grip on your hair; though not stopping, never stopping. "you're ours." jordan grunts, gripping your thigh with sudden, overwhelming intensity while cate continues jerking the strap down your throat, smile tugging at her lips. “ours." she echoes, voice soft—almost gentle if you didn’t know any better. she leans down, hand stretching out; smearing jordan's cum across your cheek in one, long, clean swipe. "fucking ours."

poor, poor luke.

[fineprintedsunsets]

ᴄʟᴜʙ ᴋɪssᴇs

Synopsis: Kasey has just broken up with her boyfriend, while at a bar nursing her wounds she meets two brothers, and one of them offers her a deal.

*wrote this on a writing high, not promising good content*

Word Count: 3.1k

!Trigger Warnings!

-loki (should be an automatic warning)

-dirty!talk

-heavily centered around addiction 

-mentions of self harm

-mentions of alcoholism

-sexual content

-insta!love

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 

Blinding Lights- The Weeknd

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

This was the worst, sitting here nursing a bottle of god knows what because of some douchebag. The music draws on as sweaty bodies dance under color-changing lights. The DJ’s fingers worked on his turntable, stomping his foot to the beat.

I sit here at the bar of Tipsy Owl Night Club, staring at the Dj in my shimmering gown that is way too uncomfortable, and drinking my fourth shot. Of what? I have no fucking clue. I and my boyfriend of 5 fucking years broke up. Why? Because the dumbass was cheating on me.

It hurts more than I care to share. I hate cheaters, I hate lairs. I hate fucking people. Ian hurt me so much when I came home to her in our bed. I have no idea who she was, but I do not blame the woman. She sent me flowers and apologized thousands of times in my Instagram dm’s. All of which I’ve ignored. Not because I’m petty, or because it’s her fault. I just can't face that situation yet, and what were 3 years alcoholically sober, has now been flushed down the drain.

Because of some guy.

“Kasey!” I dip my head, almost banging my head against the bar top in agitation. Sydney and some guy I don’t know stomp over to me, sliding into the empty bar stool by my side.

“Yes?” I manage to grit out, turning to face her. She reeks of alcohol, and her top is slipping away from her breast. I briefly look up to the guy I have yet to be introduced to. I hope he’s not her new piece of ass because he can’t keep his eyes off mine.

Fucking prick.

“This is Joseph!” Sydney manages to scream over the loud music, causing my ears to ring louder in my head.

I contain the sudden urge to roll my eyes, instead just muttering “Cool.” “Dance with us.” Sydney smiles, her fingers reaching for my wrist but I pull away, downing my shot and adjusting the front of my dress.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I shout over the music, smelling the sticky scent of sweat in the air and the constant glimmer of bedazzling outfits.

She groans, “Ugh. Your no fun.” The look is quickly replaced when she grabs Joseph, whose eyes have still not left my body, and begins to grind against him. Sydney thought and I quote, “This is exactly what I needed.” Maybe it’s what she needed because she’s blackfaced drunk while I’m making my way to the club's bathroom, wanting to puke my guts out.

I don’t get drunk easily, and I’ve only had 3 shots. I think, anyway. The music gets farther away as I make my way through the bodies, it is now just a steady beat of drums, and the lights still obscure my vision. Green dances in front of me, and red glimmers to my side. I hate flashing lights.

I hurry my way through the line, before smacking right into someone's chest.

“Watch it, asshole,” I mutter, but he does the exact opposite, he pulls me by the wrist and shoves me against a wall. My back groans as it meets bricks, and his fingers bit into my wrist. What the actual fuck? I’m irritated, lonely, and just begging to punch some drunk douchebag in the face tonight. Although I was hoping it was Joseph, he will have to do.

“Let go!” I try to wiggle my way out of his hold, I can smell him. It’s a smell I indulge in for a moment. He smells sober.

What is he doing here then?

I push him off, pulling my wrist around his neck and forcing my knee into his stomach. A little lady like me knows self-defense, buddy. The man stumbles, but crowds me again, planting both his arms on either side of my head.

“Your drunk.” He scans my face, I can barely see his own features. Just his jawline and his long blonde locks, I want to twirl my fingers in it for some reason. The music is ringing in my ears now, although it’s farther away. He’s attractive, just not exactly my type.

“I’m buzzed,” I reply, knowing damn well this guy is right. I don’t get drunk easily, but I know I had more than three shots. I can hear his accent through my thickening thoughts. The world is coming down around me, and if it wasn’t for him, I would be face to face with concrete right about now.

“Let’s go, Thor, we don’t have time for this.” Another man grumbles I can’t see him but his voice is husky like he’s losing it.

“She’s drunk, brother.”

“It's a club, and she’s from Midgard, they’re always drunk.” The man detests the one holding me up against the wall, who I’ve now learned his name is Thor. Odd name. I’m in my head, the world a blur of music and lights. I must look ridiculous, but I have no urge to move out of his eyesight.

“Somethings different about her.”

“Let’s go, Thor!” His brother rushes him, grabbing his back. He does not go, he stays with me. Why? I have no idea. For all I know these are my murderers, planning to get me alone. But I feel it too. I feel safe against his arms. Or maybe I’m too drunk and would find comfort in about anything. I catch a glimpse of his brothe behind him, trying to pull him away from him, and I’m almost winded. His raven hair, his sharp jawline, his rich accent.

He’s hot.

The loud noise of his brother's voice causes me to fall, and although it feels like an eternity the man lifts me up before my ass meets the floor, holding me to him.

“ You don’t need another midguardian toy.” The brother yells, but the music is getting farther away now. And the lights are removing themselves from my vision. I feel as if I’m flying, and when I look down,

All I see are stars.

𖤍 I awake with a pounding headache. My legs ache, my breath reeks of alcohol, and the lights are burning my eyes. There’s a new rush in my veins, one I’m all too familiar with. The need for alcohol. And then it comes rushing back. Ian, the brothers, Sydney and Joseph, and of course, Relapse.

I fucking relapsed.

It feels like I’m rolling poison over my tongue, and yet I still crave it. Fuck. I need it. I roll out of the large bed, my eyes half-lidded to shield me from the harsh lights overhead. Two doors sit on either side of the mattress. I go to the golden one on my right, and sure enough, it leads me to a bathroom.

“Thank god.” I seem to mutter while shedding my dress and undergarments while turning on the warm water. A shower is just what I need, but I know the cravings will start soon. Where the hell is Sydney? Did I see Stars last night? My mind is cleared of thoughts when the steam reaches my nose, and the sound of running water calms my nerves.

For now.

I relish in the steam, the water coating my aching muscles, my scared calves, and my aching core. Everything seems so unreal, paired with the fact that I have no idea where I am. It’s scary and although I’m not proud to say, I’ve been in these situations before. I’m addicted to many things, not just alcohol.

I finish in the shower, not using any of the products stationed inside. It be a bit weird. I reach for a towel, grab the silk cloth, and step out of the running water, turning it off. I wrap it around my body and walk back into the room I woke up in. Except now a regular white t-shirt and boxer shorts layout for me.

A tingle runs up my spine, how did I not notice anyone come in? My headache pounds against my skull as I get dressed, discarding the towel in the laundry bin just outside the shower. The room is large, and most of the decor is gold.

Beauty and The Beast have to live here somewhere.

I grab my phone from the pocket of my dress, seeing missed calls from both Ian and Sydney. Both of which I have no desire to answer.

I clutch the screen to my chest and open the second door on the other side of my mattress. The hallways are long stone paths, marked with engraved columns on each side. A large emblem sits in the middle, a black mask with horns. The building is large, and the air smells nothing like Chicago. It smells…pure.

Fresh. Unpolluted.

I walk around for what has to be minutes, trying to push back the bile rising in my throat. I know the feeling, I know how it feels to crave what I want to push away. I come to two large doors, with guards stationed outside of them. They too wear golden masks with horns, just like the emblem. They are dressed in fancy leathers, and suddenly I feel unnerved.

Where am I? I must ask it aloud because the doors open before me and the guards usher me inside. Two men stand just inside, a large chair made out of pure gold stands several feet behind them. I recognize their hair from the party. These are the brothers. The one with long blonde hair, and the other with shoulder-length raven hair, who also happened to be the one who referred to me as a ‘toy’.

“Hello.” Thor, which I’ve guessed is the blonde one smiles at me. He wears the same leathers as the guards and a large hammer sat just at his feet. Loki doesn’t greet me, instead, he roams me with his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of how the boxers ride up my ass. But unlike Joseph’s gaze, his is anything but unwanted. He doesn’t make me feel that way, anyhow.

“Welcome to Asgard.”

I say nothing, I stand there in my t-shirt, picking at my skin, fidgeting. The more I stand around, the more I feel it. I need alcohol or something to keep my mind off of it. The two men look at me and suddenly I feel smaller than I am.

“Perfect” Loki states with an eye roll, “You’ve brought an addict into Asgard.” I ball my fist at my sides, closing my eyes and twisting my neck. I need to get out of here before I turn to another addiction of mine that is more painful than drinking.

“Loki.” His brother warns he takes a step toward me but I retreat. “What is your name?”

I grab onto my shoulder sleeve, twisting it in my fingers. “K-” My tongue rolls as I fight to stay focused, “Kasey.” I finish, a shiver coursing through my back.

“Kasey, Do you struggle with addiction?” Thor’s voice is calm, reminding me of my old AA meeting counselor. She always spoke to me as If I were a wild animal waiting to attack. In truth, I sort of was.

“Yes.” I begin, noticing my fingers are starting to shake. My wrist are scared, and they can see that quite notably. The ugly pink scars of past pain marking the flesh. I hide my arms behind my back, suddenly ashamed. I’ve never been a fucking coward but in front of two men with fancy leather outfits? It seems I am.

“Can I ask-”

“Oh for god's sake, She’s a midguardian imbecile. Can you return her to the hell she crawled out of?” Loki mumbles, rolling his pretty green eyes back into his head. Green eyes I would now like to see turn red.

He looks at me like I’m a weak child, and it only makes me angry. I am not that, and I never will be that.

“What did you say?” It takes all my remaining energy to say those words, shooting daggers at Thor’s brother.

“Misguardian imbecile.” Loki pops his words, flicking his tongue to intimidate me. My mind blanks, and I realize I’m moving. My fist is out, wanting to take a swing at that stupid fucking face.

Loki catches my wrist, spinning me around so we're back to back. I can hear his breathing, and feel his muscled torso against my skin.

“Loki. Let her go.” Thor reaches out to grab me, but I’m spinning away from him. I realize I’m in an entirely different room, my head pounding even faster at Loki’s trick. How did he do that? We are now in a larger room, one marked with green and gold things. It must be his room.

“Listen to me, lamb.” Loki starts, coming behind me, his breath coating the shell of my ear. My heart pumps in my chest, threatening to burst.

“I know what you crave. I’d even go as far to say my cravings are quite aligned with your own.-” He pauses his accent husky, demanding. “Let me offer you a distraction, and you can offer my salvation.”

I spin around and look into his eyes, I know what he’s offering. But what am I offering in return? All he said was salvation. I nod, signaling to him that I agree. If I can’t drink, and I can’t cut, I may as well let someone else have control. When our eyes meet, and he picks me up with gentle hands it feels like I’ve just signed a deal with a horned devil.

𖤍 Loki places me on his bed, I sink into his sheets, gripping the white material as he kisses up my thighs. I hate this, I’m having sex with someone I barely know. But if this is what it comes to, then I must.

Anything to avoid drinking.

He connects our lips together in a long kiss. I melt into him, my heart beating. I’ve never felt what I’m feeling now with anyone. I tangle my fingers into his hair, feeling the soft strands curl around my bones. He looks at me like he wants to devour my body, and he does just that. Loki’s mouth trails everywhere, my shoulders, my inner thighs, my collarbone.

He’s making me forget.

My clothes are gone with a snap of his fingers, but I’m too high on his scent to care. I have no idea how he’s doing it, or if all of this is real, but I feel him, and right now all I want to do is melt into his body.

Loki snaps his leather off, and I’m almost overcome with relief, I had no idea how to take those off. Not that I was trying to figure it out..

He flips us so I’m straddling him, I can feel his erection against me, tenting his boxers.

“You looked so pretty in my boxers, but this is much better.” I tense. Those were his? I rock back on his cock on impulse, seeing him wince. Loki’s hands go to my hips, stopping me from moving.

“Are you ready for it?” I nod, bucking again. I haven’t been warmed up yet and I know it’s going to hurt like a bitch, but I’ve never wanted something as much as I have now. It’s such an odd feeling.

He acted as if he detested me the moment I stepped before him, but right now? Right now he’s acting as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was part of the imaginary contract I signed. His shorts disappear, and his cock lays against his stomach, already dripping with pre-cum.

Another snap, my under garments are gone, disappearing somewhere on the floor. I would be convinced I’m hallucinating, but it feels so real.

“Go ahead, take my cock.” Loki says, a smile playing on his lips. He’s so cocky, but I seem to love it. I do what he says, gripping the base of him to line it up with my entrance. I don’t push down on him yet and he doesn’t thrust.

“I feel like I’ve known you my entire life,” I mutter, locking my blue eyes with his green ones, pushing down to accommodate his length. He groans, his hands stilling on my hips. Tears threaten to burst out from my eyes lids as I feel the stretch his cock gives me. My pussy clenching, trying to take more of him. Loki looks up at me, as he grips my hips again and I nod.

He thrust into my cunt, causing me to shoot forward with pain.

“Look at me.” He demands, and I do. I look into his eyes as he thrust into me until I’m moaning. I feel my cravings begin to disperse, and somehow it feels as if he’s making them.

“Look as I thrust into your hungry cunt.” Loki growls, snaking a hand up my stomach to grasp at one of my breasts, playing with the nipple. I moan at the sensation, seeing his eyes light up.

“Fuck, Loki.” I buck onto him as his cock fucks into me, filling me with pain and pleasure alike. Loki grabs the back of my head, bringing my chin to rest on his shoulder, burying my face in the mattress.

“He’s never made it feel like this, but I will-” He thrust again, his voice loud and hot in my ear, “I will show you what it feels like to be cherished by a god.” I feel closer to an orgasm than I have in years.

How the hell does he know about Ian?

I push it away, feeling him guide my hips with one hand, while molding his other to the back of my scalp, holding me in place. I wiggle, wanting to feel more.

“Beg for it.” He mutters, groaning as he pumps into my pussy. It feels otherworldly, heavenly. I feel like a god sitting on top of a mountain.

“Fuck me harder.” I whimper, sounding needy.

“Beg.” Loki growls, as I cry into his sheets, a string of salvia collecting in my mouth.

“Please, fuck me harder.” I cry out again as he does just that, his pace speeds up as he drills into me, and before I know it my orgasm is cresting for the second time this afternoon.

“That's it, come on my cock, lamb.” Loki’s words push me over the edge as he thrusts speed up, chasing his own high. I feel as if I’m in wonderland everything is oblivious around me as I recede into waves of pleasure.

I don’t know who he is, but he made sex feel like a pleasure again. And I haven't felt pleasure in 14 years.

[deluluass]

hi

could yoy do please some yandere kuroo and kageyama headcanons? 💕

nsfw is welcomed 😊

My first headcanons 🤞🏽

Yandere! Kuroo Tetsuro

Content warnings: markers of a toxic/emotionally abusive relationship; dumbification; daddy kink; sex toy(s); mild public play/exhibitionism

😇SFW😇

This boy has a fascination for messy people.

And by "messy", I mean that Kuroo has a soft spot for those who put up some sort of front. A performative mask to hide their crumbling psyche.

Oh.

Those are his favorites. (Especially when they're not even aware that they’re hiding something.)

Maybe it's because they're so easy to manipulate? (Or perhaps it's a mild case of schadenfreude?)

It's the instigator in him.

He knows which buttons to push and at what time to exactly do it.

Kuroo lives for being that guy who causes a full blown fight by simply dropping a backhanded comment or two.

For being the final straw that eventually breaks the proverbial camel's back.

And then slipping back into the shadows to watch the Drama unfold.

So it's not unlikely for him to form an obsession for someone who's so emotionally vulnerable.

Someone who has the weight of the world on their shoulders; who has everything locked up inside to the point of bursting.

Because then it won't take much to have them falling apart and unraveling before him.

But he's also a caretaker, you know.

He's opportunistic and covertly callous and mischievous, yes.

But you've seen how much he tends to those close to him.

So when you do fall apart, you will do it in his arms.

He will take care of you.

He'll say everything you've always wanted to hear.

You're beautiful and wanted and loved and you don't have to be brave anymore.

Kuroo's here and he understands you.

From the barest changes in your inflection to your most subtle facial expression.

Other people won't catch it.

To Kuroo, though? Tell-tale signs that you're hiding your feelings again.

He understands you in a way that no else had; that no else cared to try.

And eventually that’ll be the very thing that you’ll hold onto.

Never mind that his every word has become an indisputable fact (when it shouldn’t be).

Never mind that the line between Kuroo just being a mindful boyfriend AND Kuroo disregarding your boundaries has become too blurry that it’s impossible to tell which is which.

Never mind that your entire world has narrowed down to just him and you.

Because all your friends have, one by one, made their way for the exit.

They tell you that they're so tired.

They've warned you- begged you, actually- to end this insidiously suffocating relationship.

"I know he's only been nice to you and to us, but there's just...something wrong about that guy," they say.

But until they pinpoint, exactly, what that "something wrong" is; and until you see it for yourself, you're sticking by his side.

Damn whatever people say.

So.

Kuroo's not the yandere who'd chain you up in his basement or something.

Not that he's above it, but because he doesn't really need to.

Not when he has you bound right where it really matters.

😈NSFW😈

Kuroo has perfected being a dom down to a Science.

He knows exactly when to be mean and hurtful and sweet and kind and giving to you.

Kuroo's very generous, methinks! But only if he believes you deserved it.

So you better prove that you earned it!!

He'll having you cumming and gushing into his hand if you pleaded just enough!!

Looked into his eyes all pouty and teary and pliant to all his wishes.

Very into treating you and talking to you like you're not capable of comprehending words.

Oh, darling. I know I'm hurting you. I know I am. But you like it, don't you? That's right. Fuck yeah, you do, you fucking slut.

That's because you're just a dumb little baby, aren't you? You'd be happy as long as daddy makes you cum?

And you'd nod and say yes so obediently as he pounds your little hole even though you can't hear him over the sound of your own moans.

ALSO!!!

HE IS A TEASE!!!!

A FUCKINGN!!!!!!!!! TEASE!!!!

Every seggsy time is edging time!!

Has a thing for slapping your ass until your cheeks are bruised and tender under his palms.

And for sticking a vibrator inside you while you're out in public.

Just to teach you a lesson whenever he feels like you're not learning enough.

"Do you want me to come back until you're ready?" the waiter droned, obviously suppressing the urge to roll his eyes when all you did was grip the napkin in front of you.

You couldn't even look at poor kid; couldn't even make out a sound. You're too busy stifling the tingling within your walls, prompting you to cross your legs beneath the table and squeeze your thighs together.

And Kuroo's just...scanning the menu. Sitting idly before you. He's resting his chin against his open palm, long fingers brushing under his nose, while you're practically grinding down the chair.

You feel yourself leak into the crotch of your underwear, sticky liquid squelching against the crack of your ass as the toy continued to vibrate, burning you up and melting your insides, the buzzing a white noise only you could hear.

His indifference was unflappable. Kuroo even managed to call out, "Excuse me. Sorry about that earlier. We're ready now," so smoothly despite your desperate attempts to catch his attention. Then, he recited a bunch of dishes that you didn’t have the appetite for. Like you’re not outright writhing and earning a few disconcerted looks from the table next to you.

All you wanted was for him to put an end to this. You've learned your lesson. You're not gonna disappoint him again.

Instead, you watched in agonizing fear as he reached for his pocket. And immediately, without a warning, you felt the toy shake violently inside you.

"Ah!" you cried, sharply folding your arms and legs, making the plates and utensils clink against each other as your wrists chafed against your hard nipples.

Your boyfriend halted, leaned closer, and looked at you in a convincing display of concern.

"Are you alright, babe?" he muttered, caressing your knee, his nails pressing down just a tad. Not too hard. Just enough for you to hiss in a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

You managed a small, quivering "uh-huh" as you begged him with your eyes. Conveying as much message as you could.

"Daddy, I'll be good for you. I swear. I won't lie anymore. I won't make you angry. I won't do anything that you wouldn't be happy about. Everything I do from this moment on will be just for you, daddy. I promise, daddy-"

But Kuroo only huffed out, a small, faint grin tracing his lips as he turned back to the waiter and said, "One cream pie, please."

Yandere! Kageyama Tobio

Content warning(s): rape/noncon

😇SFW😇

Fourth wall break, if you will: thank you, anon, for putting these characters together because I Believe that they’re each other’s foils in terms of yandere-isms. And this is gonna be an interesting contrast to see (at least, I hope it would be).

So Kuroo’s all subdued mind games, right? Like, you have to do a whole routine of mental gymnastics if you want to dig deep and analyze how he had your head spinning. 

But Kageyama? 

Kageyama says fuck that.

Kageyama, genius though he is, is about as subtle as a metal bat to the head when it comes to his darling.

He has no qualms about tying you to his bed once the opportunity presents itself to him.

But it didn’t start out like that.

At first, perhaps Kageyama was just an aloof classmate whose entire life revolved around volleyball.

The one who couldn’t even take a time out of his day to hang out with the rest of the class on a weekend.

Though Kageyama has a knack for attracting hostility from other people, there comes a time (rare it may be) that it is offset by people who are sympathetic to his idiosyncrasies.

His darling falls under the latter.

That's what draws Kageyama to you.

Hearing stuff like "D'you know what they used to call him before? King!" and "King because he's an arrogant dickhead who thinks he's better than everyone" are not new to him.

But hearing these are: "Stop that. It's rude to talk behind a person's back."

"Kageyama's passionate about volleyball. More than anyone we've ever met. Ok so it's alienating for us! Whatever! But isn't it admirable that he's doing his best at a thing that he loves?"

Kageyama did not get it.

You're not his teammate.

You're not his..anything.

You had no cause to try and be nice to him and defend him and..understand him, really.

So the rest was history.

The beginning might have been awkward.

Every time he tried to talk to you, Kageyama, for some reason, always blurted out the wrong things.

But you didn't mind. You just liked being his friend.

And Kageyama liked having you by his side.

Kageyama liked it, especially, when you're in the sidelines and cheering him on. (This caused quite a ruckus in Karasuno.)

It should have been weird. Kageyama had not known anything else besides volleyball.

Your presence should’ve been that of a stranger encroaching on someone else’s property.

Somehow, though, you fitted in so perfectly.

Like you’re made to be there.

So he tells you: “You’re free, aren’t you? You should be watching me play by now” and “You should be waiting for me after class” and “Stop making excuses. You’re not tired. You can still drop by practice” 

You’ve tried to reason with him. (Even contemplated about ending your friendship.)

But it’s not like you’re ever gonna shake him off.

Besides, you know that he wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect.

😈NSFW😈

His darling was his first sexual experience. 

And like any beginner, Kageyama was pretty...uh..bad at it ngl.

Add that to the fact that he’s on the bigger side and your first with him wasn’t consensual.

At that time, all Kageyama knew was that he really, really wanted to touch you and kiss you and fuck you senseless until you acknowledge that there’s no running from him. 

Trust, though, that Kageyama will not settle for being bad or, heaven forbid, mediocre at it.

Nope.

Not. a. chance.

Doesn’t matter that you’ve spent the entire day fucking.

Kageyama will not rest- not let you rest, until he drags out a moan from you; until you’ve ruined the sheets with how much he’s made you cum; until he has you begging for more. 

Will experiment a lot.

Will test out how fast and hard he has to fuck you to get what kind of reaction he wants from you.

Very attentive even to your quietest gasp.

If you so much as show a sign that you’re finding whatever it is he’s doing to your body pleasurable- curl your toe or arch your back- Kageyama will amp it up to the point where you’re screaming.

He’ll have this haughty, shit-eating grin while doing it too.

“Yes, you can,” Kageyama growled. “Spread those legs and show me how you do it.”

You shook your head, your body protesting at the slight movement. You’re already on the verge of blacking out. And you don’t have to check the ticking wall clock to know that, by now, Kageyama, too, should be knocked out and dozing off beside you.

But he only grabbed your wrists, making you howl in pain as soon as he touched the cuts and bruises across the skin. Remnants of the nylon rope that bound them together not too long ago.

“Touch yourself,” he repeated.

Kageyama’s voice is a rasping noise to your ears, his hot breath causing goosebumps all over you as he pressed his lips against the shell.

“No-no more, Kag-Kageyama,” you forced yourself to say, though your throat was dry and aching from all your screeching. 

He clicked his tongue. 

You flinched.

And you didn’t think it possible for Kageyama to be more frightening than he already is. Until you’d done as he’d told and, like a wolf patiently waiting to pounce, Kageyama zeroed in on how you moved your hands, his own reaching for his cock.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, groaning as you trembled and mewled under your featherlight touch. Kageyama stroked himself, grinding into his fist until pre-cum dripped from the head.

“That how you like it, huh,” he croaked.

Before you could even reach an orgasm, Kageyama had already pushed you on your back, mimicking the way you pleasured yourself. Only this time it was rougher, more unforgiving, and indifferent to your cries of “Stop! Stop it, I can’t- Enough, Kageyama!”

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV. this is the version with the third person POV, otherwise nothing is different from the other version !

------

Contrary to what the four crazy people he spent his time risking his life for nowadays thought, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to his jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made Eliot’s ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. He was an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-Eliot, or perhaps the Eliot-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard he had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of his mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, he could get out of bed. His head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in his best interests to swing his twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push himself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to Eliot’s best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let him forget it and the scar on his hip that put a falter in his giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those he sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today his hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to his mid-forearm, settled into him all familiar-like and made its home in him.

In the bathroom, Eliot used his wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. His morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for his post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took Eliot longer to shimmy on the sweats he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made him appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until he was face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing his grip. A light flex had Eliot drawing it back like the metal had burned him, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. He took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge his hand between the handle and the door so he could open the fridge with his elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind his collarbone faded quickly as the hitter scanned its contents and realized there was nothing he wanted to eat, or at least nothing he wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to his throat, and he slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw himself down, cradling his hands in his lap.

Eliot knew the drill: in an hour, he would grit his teeth and get to up to try and fumble open his bottle of painkillers, and if he succeeded, he would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so he could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone he had left on the nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as his ringtone and Eliot hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so he ignored it. His ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from his clenched teeth as he levered himself up to get to it as fast as he could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, frustrated that he had forgotten he was supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in his mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

Eliot snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before he could open his mouth, his doorbell rang, drawing a groan from him. If he was correct about who the “we” was, it seemed silly to even ring it. His suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Eliot had already moved back to the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” Eliot muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through his snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. Eliot made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When he next opened his eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on his coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in the hitter’s lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Eliot’s first instinct was to deflect. He trusted his team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that he had these days. That he wasn’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before Eliot could tell him just what he thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of his face, the thief reaching down to poke one of his hands faster than he could stop her.

By the time Eliot was able to refocus and pull himself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at him with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. Eliot thought he might have howled; he wasn’t sure. Both his hands were clenched tightly to his chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. He felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on him. He summoned the anger from his throat, the only weapon at his disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at him, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” Eliot turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

Eliot looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on him and let him wallow by himself. The hitter wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den he had accidentally put his foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning him an earful of hissing that scared the shit out of him. He wondered if he seemed as belligerent as that now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in Eliot’s space to let him feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

He didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at his hands. He hummed at Eliot’s slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” Eliot mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at Eliot’s growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

Eliot looked him in the eye for the sincerity he already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of his favorite traits of Hardison’s. Hesitantly, he extended his hands, rolling his eyes at the hacker scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, Eliot took the medication from her fingers with his teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to his lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” Eliot managed, once he had his breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while he was distracted trying to find the right response to that, that they wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted him to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to his forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. The hitter froze, and Hardison did too, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At his tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on his arm, rubbing circles so lightly that Eliot almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down his forearm. When he got to his wrist, Eliot couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through his nose, high and strained. Hardison moved away from there immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” Eliot grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before he could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of his forearm. Eliot breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” Hardison said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Eliot’s thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that he didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of him that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over his head until his pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. He didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of him murmured. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered something like this, let alone the last time he had taken the person up. If there was anyone he trusted to do it, if there was anyone he wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could he refuse them even he wasn’t fully on board with what they were suggesting?

“Sure, just…” Eliot said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on him. He licked his lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under Eliot’s hands, resting on his knees. Eliot tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above his head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in his hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to the hitter’s forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through his hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. Eliot winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” he grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed his scalp. His breath stuttered again as Hardison’s hands started working towards the sore meat of his wrist. Eliot’s hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. Eliot cracked open an eye to see him looking between his hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” he gritted out, doing a poor job of masking his genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

The hacker tapped his index finger against Eliot’s arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through Eliot’s hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts he had, mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, he insistently pushed his head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in his chest, leaving him longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left his throat as Hardison probed the bottom of Eliot’s palm, the ache drawing him back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry. You still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to Eliot’s again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in his hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching his scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on Eliot’s hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. He don’t know how long he sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched him, fixated on the single task of caring for him. The thought made the tender space behind his breastbone twinge. When he surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. Eliot grunted, lifting his head from the couch to look at the two of them sitting beside him, grinning at his movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in his, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

Eliot looked down to his hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other he tightened his fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving his thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” Eliot simply said back, a real smile rising to his lips.

[mminttae]

Clandestine | 02

-> Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x reader

-> Genre : tattoo!artist Jungkook, mafia! JJK,mafia au, bloody!missions, slight violence, got secrets they can't tell, angst, romance, Jungkook's part time job is flirting, sad (backstory), Y/N is strong!

-> Summary : who would have known that just doing a part time job at a night club would lead you to the tattoo artist Jeon Jungkook's messed up world. One letter related to the secret comes out of your mouth you'll be laying in Jungkook's arms but alive or not, that's not guaranteed...

-> Word Count : 4.286 K ( A/N: I’m increasing words )

-> T/W body language, killing, curse words and intimacy are included in the story (you may read if you're comfortable with these)

Part : 2

<< previous chap

.・゜-: ✧ :-playlist -: ✧ :-゜・．

Jungkook's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Even if me saying that line didn't flatten him enough I knew the nickname did as it always have been doing. It was clearly visible that he didn't expect me to be this bold suddenly. But he being himself smirked after a couple of seconds as his hand snaked up to grab my wrist pulling me more closer "Sure princess.. Do you want to go to the trip now? " His tongue rolling over his bottom lip as his piercing doe eyes holding so many thoughts looked at my lips then to my eyes.

"I don't want to interrupt but the trip has to be postponed "Jimin interferes in the moment, his eyes narrowed and only looking at me as if scared that the younger guy would throw him out if he locked eyes with his. Making a 'tch' sound Jungkook raises his eyebrows at Jimin in a manner that reads he's asking why postpone. I yeet his hand which was holding my wrist and get off from the table clearing my throat while fixing the skirt and apron. Jungkook clearly disappointed for not being able to hear my answer gets up from the seat while putting the black leather jacket around his shoulders. Jimin and Taehyung following him gets up too grabbing their bags. Jungkook walked up to me while fixing his bangs with his index finger.

"Gotta go princess a client's waiting" Nodding I proceeded to walk away but I could hear Jungkook saying with a sad dramatic tone. "Atleast act that you don't want me to go". I'm afraid I won't be able to because I myself don't know what this client of yours gonna do if you don't go on time. Is the person waiting even a client or not? Knitting my eyebrows I look back only to meet with strangers taking up the seat. The three tall mesmerizing men with inks on their body not to be seen anywhere. I don't know what's going on in that foolish yet extremely clever brain of yours but...

Be careful Mr. Artbook..

End of YOUR POV

Mid summer yet the night breeze is able to run shivers down your spine. Not a single soul in sight.

10 at night maybe the shopkeepers closed down the shutters and went to bed. Not many shops here in this area to even begin with. The only workshop's bell which rings here is the Jeon's Tattoo corner which has been ringing from the morning today , seemed to have stopped in the evening but now making its sound again. "Argh I should really break down this bell "

With an annoyed expression the black haired guy opens the drawers searching for a fresh towel. The tall man who just entered the shop walked past the desk table, turning the door knob and allowing himself inside the cozy room. His loud footsteps on the wooden floor telling Jungkook that the guest has arrived.

"Where were you? I waited here for five minutes then went inside the nearby plant store to kill time"

Taking off the long coat the tall silver haired guy walks up to the chair positioned in the middle of the room beside the various tools. "Sorry hyung, Taehyung and Jimin wanted a new tattoo so went to hear out their designs"

Jungkook says, eyebrows knitted while he fishes out the stencil of the beautiful clematis he has drawn beforehand of the leader's arrival. Smiling to himself he walks up to the seated boss whose like a big brother to him, he puts the stencil aside. Taking out a black rubber band from his pocket he takes his hair and ties it up to a small ponytail before taking out a drawer full of tattoo needles and inks. "Heard that Yoongi started boxing classes with you"

The older male speaks as his lip corners slowly moves upwards. Jungkook giving out a laugh says, "Yea Yoongi hyung be moving like a turtle. "

The thought of his hyung boxing and whining that it's hard is enough to make the little one giggle. Taking out a small wooden stool with one hand as the other one was holding the tattoo gun, Jungkook sits himself beside the strong looking man who rolls up his shirt's sleeves revealing all the different type of arts and words of different languages tattooed on his arm.

"Need chewing gum?"

The younger one asks at the thought that it might hurt but the older one replies plainly that he's fine after all his skin had been coming in contact with this gun for a long time now. Jungkook nods before resting the needle on the free space on the top of the man's biceps before starting to draw on it, the awestrucking clematis. "Was thinking of getting a lip piercing but not being able to get it cuz of the adults in the house"

The man says while his dimples makes visits to his cheeks.

"The exact same reason why am postponing on getting an eyebrow piercing"

Jungkook replies as he carefully moves the tattoo gun sideways on the man's bicep.

"So when are you planning on telling your sister?"

He asks as the silver haired guy closes his eyes once realizing what Jungkook meant.

"When the time's right.. "

He replies, slowly opening his eyes his gaze meeting the ceiling.

"But first we need to pinpoint Mr. Choi's location"

Replying with a small and quiet yes Jungkook draws the details on the flower carefully.

"Seokjin has been checking the cctvs regularly and the only thing he found was the black hyundai stopping at a night club at exactly 7pm every Tuesday and Wednesday"

"What's the night club's name? "

Jungkook asks as he draws on the small leaves.

"Hell's night club"

With just the mention of the night club's name Jungkook's hand stops moving as his eyes widened. "Isn't that the club you often visit with the others? "

The silver haired man asks making Jungkook quietly nod his head. If the most feared mafia in the country slash his team's biggest rival had been going to the exact same club at the exact same time as his how come he never saw the familiar old man's face? He thought.

What kind of person does the man disguise him as that even Jimin who encountered him multiple times doesn't notice. "You should be careful and try to see your clients faces carefully and see if they match that old fart's face or not"

Jungkook humming a response continued on giving the clematis it's final touch. Finishing the tattoo he removes the gun making the silver haired man sit up straight and fix his shirt.

"You know what to do right?"

Jungkook asks referring to putting on Vaseline ointment on the tattoo and stuffs. The older guy nods while fetching his coat. "I'll get going then. Thanks for the tattoo kook"

Jungkook simply nods his mind stuck in a different topic. Putting the equipments away and tidying up the towels as the older guy leaves the shop and disappears into the darkness of the night in the empty alleyway, Jungkook couldn't help but think about what you were up to. His mind stitching up different negative thoughts together.

"If Mr. Choi is really going to that club then he must have seen Y/N always talking to us..... What if he does something to her? " Jungkook asks to himself and the next thing he does is take his bag, turn off the lights, lock the doors and run off to meet you.

• -

"I'll be off then"

Bowing politely you take hold of the two big disposable bags and huff out a breathe when you realize how heavy both of them were. Kicking the back staff door with your leg open the first thing you see is Jeon Jungkook leaning on the wall infront. His hair tied up in a small ponytail, a bag hung around his shoulder and inked hands resting inside his jeans pockets. His eyes falls on your hands holding the disposable garbage bags, sighing he walks up to you.

"I thought your job was to serve and take orders not bring out garbages" You looked down at the bags in your hands while saying, "I was coming out anyways it's no biggie"

You flashed him a small smile but his eyes looked worried and his face tensed. You wondered what happened but didn't dare to ask thinking that he will only answer with 'none of your business' . Yes Jeon Jungkook unknowingly says harsh things without thinking when he's tensed. Jungkook takes the garbage bags from your hands and put it beside the door when his eyes lands on your right hand which was bandaged. His eyes widen and he quickly took your right hand examining it while asking

"How did this happen? Are you okay? "

Embarrassed you put your hand away from his warm ones and answer while smiling, not making eye contact

"It's okay I'm fine these kind of injuries are meant to happen if you work in a bar." Jungkook not convinced took your hand again now keeping it infront of him not letting you pull it back. His eyebrows knitted . "You were totally fine this evening tell me what happened". Chewing on your bottom lip you look down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

"Y/N tell me what happened.." Jungkook says once again this time his voice laced with concern as his hands caressed your hair. You were actually a bit taken aback at how the always dominant voice of Jungkook is making its way to you in a concerned and soft way.

"A drunk guy harshly pulled my hand wanting me to sit beside him but I fought back and he suddenly let go of me making me loose my balance at hit the edge of the glass table behind and that's how I got this"

You say while looking at your bandaged hand which was now resting in jungkook's warm palm. He softly held your injured hand and lower down a bit to meet your height. Looking at your eyes he said

"Tell me who did this. Tell me who did this to you I'm gonna fucking kill him"

In a calm soft voice but the last part obviously didn't come out in a soft way. You laughed and pushed him a bit away from you. "It's okay am fine don't overreact he was drunk" But Jungkook not buying the answer walked closer to you and again with a serious tone asked you . "Tell me how he looked like"

Knowing that he won't let go of the topic unless you give him a proper answer you sigh, rolling your eyes while describing the drunk man you happened to meet inside the club. "He had small eyes , a sharp nose and dark stubble on his face and.." You trailed off thinking what else did the man have but Jungkook interrupted asking in a quick manner

"Did he have any sort of tattoo on his wrist? " Replaying the moment inside your head you widen your eyes a bit and nod your head, "Yea he did.. Was that a crown? A crown maybe"

Exactly knowing who that drunk man you encountered was Jungkook's chest sank at the thought that the old man touched you with his dirty hands. Gulping down the saliva that formed in his mouth he without thinking pulled you to his chest engulfing you in a hug. He wasn't sure why he felt like protecting you but he wanted to . He wasn't supposed to feel this way now that he set his mind on the plan his brain made up on the way here but..he did. He wanted to make sure you were safe.

Widening your eyes at how Jungkook suddenly hugged you, your mind went blank. There's no doubt in how fast your heart was beating. To be honest to yourself you were actually frightened when that man tried touching you in an ill manner but now being in Jungkook's arms you felt safe. You felt safe when he was around. Jungkook's arms around you got tighter as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

So this is how you gonna play it Mr. Choi

He thinks.

•-

Flashback 5 weeks back

Stretching your arms you give out a small yawn before grabbing the books from the table and making your way out of the auditorium. Walking while looking at your  surroundings you didn't notice the tall man standing infront of you. Too immersed in the same old paintings hanging on the walls you hit something hard making the copies and books in your hands fall down. Without looking up at the person you bumped into you quickly said 'sorry' while kneeling down to pick up your supplies. The tall gentleman kneeled down too helping you with picking up your stationerys. You got up, the man following you soon. This time facing the guy properly as both of you made eye contact you were about to say thank you when your voice abruptly decided to not come out.

The man had soft long black hair .The kind of hair you would want to play with all day. His baby doe eyes staring at you, his lips parted. The oversized hoodie he was wearing made him the grizzly huggable bear image more.

As your eyes scanned him from head to toe, your lips a bit parted, the guy not being able to control his laughter at how cute you looked when your eyes went big as if you saw something really interesting and you'd like to study that thing more, he gave out small giggles making you quickly close your mouth and look at him. Noticing how every students in tha hall were staring at both of you, you shifted your weight from one leg to another leg uncomfortably. But the guy's Adorable bunny smile didn't go out of your notice. His eyes wrinkled as he tilted his face and asked you softly

"You okay? "

Blinking couple of times you nodded your head making him shyly scratch his nape and mumble 'thank god'. Your lips automatically curved up when your eyes landed on the ID card hung around his neck

"Jeon Jungkook"

Once realization hit you that you were now standing infront of your college's hearthrob while looking like a whole mess which you didn't care about that much until you bumped into him, your cheeks got tinted in a light blush. Pulling your lips in you tilted your head a bit to the side making your baby hairs fall over your face.

"Hey kook!"

A loud deep voice entered the ears of the people standing in the hall making them turn their heads to the two seniors waving their hands at Jungkook's direction, a big wide smile plastered know their face. Jungkook takes out his bracelet covered wrist from his pocket and waves at them. Jimin running towards us and wrapping his arm around the tall guy's shoulders he notices me and flashes me a smile

"Hey Y/N"

Waving your sweater paw at him as a hey you smiled. You met Jimin and Taehyung a couple of times before in some group works with seniors. You not really interested in gossips of the college noticed just a few days ago that Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are the well known hot trio of this college.

"Y/N.."

Jungkook repeats your name to himself before looking at you once again , smiling while saying

"Sweet name"

His sweet honey voice saying your name was enough to melt you. If it was any other guy right now you would have simply said thank you for helping you pick up the books and walk away without saying anything but surprisingly Jeon Jungkook made you stop. "I'm hungry didn't have breakfast this morning" Taehyung whines while holding his tummy earning a slap on his head from Jimin. "we are going for lunch wanna join us? "

Jungkook asks you making you widen your eyes at the sudden invitation and Jungkook earning some smirks from the seniors beside him, Jimin elbowing his arm while wiggling his eyebrows. Jungkook simply rolled his eyes at his hyungs before looking at you for a reply. You glancing at your silver wrist watch said "I would love to but I should get going. I have some stuffs to do"

Jungkook quietly nods his head before flashing you a smile.

Is he always smiling?

You thought noticing that he had been smiling since the moment both of you met. "Y/N's always studying hard"

Taehyung says earning a nod from Jimin making you shyly scratch your nape.

The Brunnete haired approached you giving you a pat on your shoulder before saying "Study well but don't forget to have lunch okay? "

You flashed him a smile while nodding. Jungkook waving his hands at you as a 'bye' walked past you with the two boys. You looked back at three of them noticing that two of them were wearing hoodies and one of them were wearing full sleeved tees.

It's so hot these days why are they wearing hoodies on top of tees?

Shaking your head you quickened your pace and quickly got out of the college grounds. Walking to the bus stand while looking around at the cozy coffee shops on the streets you keep glancing at your watch from time to time to make sure that you're going on time or not.

Now here's a secret about you that no one knows

You're a student at an art college but you are also a student at a law school. Your father runs the family business of electronics. Yes the electronics company ranking the second best in the country out of all the other electronic companies, which he wants to hand over to your big brother after he retires. Your mother always wanted a child of her to be a sculptor. Borning late in the family with the talent of art you were forced to study this subject whereas you were interested in prosecution, catching criminals and stuffs. What you were most interested in were being a mafia or an assassin but you gave up on those dreams and decided to study law. Your parents only giving their all attention and care to their first born, didn't care about you that much. The only thing they wanted from you was becoming a great sculptor and bringing praise to your family.

After nights of confusion and judgement you decided to study in the law school that you got admitted, secretly with the money your grandparents left you. Your grandparents left some money for you and your brother before passing away and thankfully they were enough to pay for your study books expenses. But maintaining time for your law school as well as the art school was hard but you managed to make time after dropping off from some extra courses of the art college without telling your parents. But it was hectic. Your college hours starts from 7 am. And you have classes till 9am then a break at 9:15 am to 10:30 due to dropping off from some extra class. Your law classes starts from 9:30 so during the break you quickly leave the grounds and head off to the law classes. Then you return to the art college at 10:20 when it's a break at your law school. Then once again when it's a lunch break at the art school you head off to the law school while munching on some snacks, obviously not getting time to have proper lunch. And when it comes to events you had to make up excuses at the law school for not attending as your parents would obviously not skip their daughter's presentations.

It would be more hectic from today cuz you just applied to a job at a night club. There's a course for learning shooting at the law school but you don't have enough money to pay for that so it's time to earn some money.

•••

Stretching your arms while getting up from the seat you had been sitting on straight for 2 hours, you give a yawn before taking out a scrunchie and putting your hair up. All the classes for the day are done. Putting the back pack around your shoulder you bow at the teacher before leaving the school premises. Walking inside the bus and sitting on one of the seat you take out your phone and start typing to your mother , 'Mom I'll be late tonight as I got some extra lessons. Don't worry for me and you don't have to send car I'll come by bus'

"No one's gonna worry about me though"

You say to yourself while letting out a small laugh and looking out at the window. Everything vanishing from your sight at a fast pace as the vehicle picks up its speed upon seeing the empty road. Some of the street lights flickering due to not being fixed for several days now. You take out the 'guideline' paper of the bar you're gonna work in from backpack, going through the structure of the building in your mind and remembering all the rules explained to you yesterday when you went to apply for the job. This night club only seemed to be safe for you to work in now. By safe means you would have no worries of the common students who spends time in bars and clubs to see you. If anyone recognizes you then it's game over. Plus the pay is high too.

The phone screen lighting up as a notification popped up you unlocked the phone before seeing from whom the text is from.

Bro: heard you're coming late at night should I pick you up from the way while coming home?

"Geez already told him?"

You say to yourself once realizing that your mom told your brother to pick up but your brother being nice asked if you want to be picked up first or not. Smiling at his text before typing your reply It's ok you don't have to come. The office is far away from my college anyways. Get home safely.

Waiting for a few minutes to see his reply which you didn't get you turned off your phone and put it inside your bag. Looking out from the window thinking why he didn't reply when he saw your text whereas usually he would try to come pick you up, being the 'protective' brother. You got down from the bus as soon as the bus came to its stop. You walked for a few more minutes from the bus stop till arriving at your destination.

Hell's night club

•••

It's been only five minutes of you serving drinks but you're already tired. How can a human body and mind work for 13 hours straight without any rest. You did mess up some tables a couple of times for which you were now getting a scolding from the manager. You looking down bowing slightly while your hands in front of you.

"Miss Lee Y/N did you properly see the table numbers today? "

The old man asks to which you nod. "Then why are you messing up? " He asks in a raised voice making you flinch and quickly mumble a sorry. You lift your head up a bit to see the old man sighing while pinching his forehead, clearly visible that he's angry. "I'm letting you go as this is your first time don't make mistakes anymore"

He says making you bow and say

"Thank you"

He looked around trying to see if any waitresses are free. Sighing at how there's no one free without counting you he gave you a look before handing you a tray of various kinds of drinks. "Take this to table no. 14. And  do not  make any mistakes. They are regulars here I don't want them gone" Nodding at him you set off to find this table no. 14 . Noticing how your skirt got up a bit you tried pulling the skirt a bit down with one hand as the other one was holding the tray, you quickly withdraw your hand without fixing the skirt upon seeing the tray tremble in one hand. Quickly holding the tray in place and scanning if any drinks were spilled, you sigh in relief. You looked back to only lock eyes with the manager . He staring straight at you with his cold eyes. You gave a small awkward smile and walked towards table 14.

The table no. 14 seemed to be surrounded by many big men. All had some sort of tattoos on them. A familiar man sitting in the middle holding a pen and scribbling something on a notebook. His inked arms full on display as the silver earrings were still being able to shine despite the dullness in the scene. His long bangs falling before his eyes not letting anyone see the face beneath it.

You quietly approached the table and when you raised your eyes from the ground to the man sitting in the middle, your legs automatic came to a halt and your breath hitched.

Jeon Jungkook right there was sitting. The table in front occupied with various weapons and him sitting like a whole five course meal, fingers playing with the dangly earrings

This is totally not what I expected

[youngbeezer]

hi!! can I please request something?

going to a lake house, maybe friends to lovers with bowen byram?

thank you! 💗.

A/N: HI IM SO SORRY THIS LITERALLY TOOK 4 EVER!!! i was having such bad writer's block with also zero motivation, but i eventually put a little something together and i hope whoever requested this first off actually sees this bc seriously its been a good month of this sitting in my inbox but also i hope you like it :)

Word Count: 2940

Warning(s): kinda angsty in beginning, curse words, ends fluffy !!!

masterlist || join my taglist

These next few days is either going to turn out to be the best week of the summer, or the most awkward week of the summer...

I’m currently stuck in a car surrounded by couples on our way to a lake house in Colorado. Somehow I ended up being lumped into this chaotic group of professional hockey players and their drop-dead gorgeous significant others.

About a year ago at my local salon, I just so happened to be seated right next to a woman named Grace, who I immediately hit it off with. We became fast friends and are now basically inseparable at this point. Her boyfriend just so happens to play hockey for the Colorado Avalanche, Cale Makar. Now I have also grown quite close with Cale as well, since I am always at their shared apartment for Grace. At this point Cale is basically third wheeling us, instead of it being the other way around. Therefore I was also always invited to team parties and get-togethers, which prompted more friendships with most of the guys on the team and their respective partners.

Someone I have surprisingly grown super close with is Bowen Byram. As soon as Cale introduced us two, his blue eyes and raspy voice immediately drew me in. Straight away we bonded over common interests and that night we talked for almost three hours. After that, we were thick as thieves. So thick that recently I have come to the realization that I have caught major feelings for him along the way.

It has only been a few weeks since I have come to this realization and it has already started to affect our relationship. I definitely started to ignore Bowen a little bit when I first figured out my feelings because I was scared he would somehow find out or I would just end up blurting it out at some point. And the last thing I want is for my silly feelings to ruin such a great friendship.

Thus why this week can either turn out to be the best or the worst.

I’ve decided that at some point during this trip I need to confess my feelings for Bowen. He’s also seemed to notice the shift in my attitude towards him. I have become more closed off and not as touchy as we used to be. Bowen and I are both very touchy/feely types of people. So what seemed like just some harmless cuddling and play wrestling with each other, to me did very little to quell down my feelings.

For example, this morning when we were packing up the cars for the trip a group of us are taking to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse, Bowen went to wrap his arms around my middle from the back and I subconsciously flinched away at his touch. I know he definitely noticed my mood shift from the defiant pout that was resting on his face. After that I did what I do best, and ran away to the other car that was driving up and basically begged Nate to switch seats with me.

Which now leads to my current thoughts. The entire car ride up I have been contemplating on ways I could tell him, but each scenario just ended up with him telling me that he doesn’t feel the same, and our friendship essentially being over. Obviously I was just overthinking just a little, but I’ve never been stuck in a situation like this before-- and now we are going to be stuck in a lake house together for an entire week, so I am going to be forced to face this situation whether I want to or not.

“Yo. Earth to y/n?” Tyson draws, trying to gain my attention. I snap out of my thoughts as soon as I hear my name, and bring my gaze to the rearview mirror to meet Tyson’s questioning look. “We’re here.” He announces.

Susanna, Mikko’s girlfriend, adds on, “You alright? You seemed kind of out of it the entire car ride.”

I shake my head to try and clear my thoughts and notice that we are indeed here at the lake house we will be staying at for the next week. I clear my dried up throat before croaking out a weak, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t like long car rides.”

Both of them nod, content with my answer and exit the car to join Mikko in unloading all of the luggage from the trunk. I take a few more moments to fully get my head together after dealing with all my jumbled thoughts throughout the entire three hour car ride.

Jumping out of the car, the first thing I see is Bowen letting out a yawn and stretching out. As his arms raise over his head, some of his shirt rises up with it and immediately my eyes are drawn to the small portion of skin and v-line that is in front of me. Bowen then notices my presence and makes eye contact with me, giving me one of his adorable little smiles. I advert my gaze as quickly as I can so my obvious ogling isn’t as obvious and go to finally retrieve my luggage.

Yeah this was gonna be a long week.

…

After everyone got pretty much all settled into their rooms, we all ended up coming back together to sit around the firepit to chat and enjoy some drinks. For this trip that Tyson orchestrated there are in total ten people staying in the house. Me, Tyson, obviously since it’s his house; Bowen, Cale, Grace, Alex Newhook, Mikko and his girlfriend Susanna, and lastly Nate and his supposed new girl who will be joining us later on in the week.

Apparently a group of the guys and their partners have been taking trips together at the end of the hockey season for a while now, and since growing closer with the team this year, I graciously got an invite.

Since it was getting later and a little bit more chilly, I grabbed a random sweatshirt that I saw already laying around in the living room before making my way outside to join everyone by the firepit. Getting closer I noticed that the only seat available just so happened to be next to Bowen.

Cale and Grace give each other a not so inconspicuous knowing look when they see me approaching. As soon as I sit down, a question is being thrown at me.

“Whose sweatshirt is that y/n?” Cale brings everyone's attention to me with a growing smirk on his face.

“I don’t know, I just found it in the living room.” I give Cale a questioning glare, trying to figure what his endgame is right now.

“It’s mine.” I hear that same raspy voice that I love and know so well. I feel my face start heating up at the idea of wearing Bowen’s sweatshirt. Am I wearing his name on my back right now, and I just didn’t even think to check earlier?

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I can give it back to you, if you want it.” I stumble out, now feeling awkward and a little embarrassed about how flustered I am getting over a simple sweatshirt.

Bowen gives me a little smile before replying back, “Nah, it’s fine. It looks better on you anyway.”

I clear my throat and stumble out an awkward ‘thanks’ at Bowen and then turn my attention to Grace right next to me so I don’t embarrass myself even more. What I don’t see though is the way Bowen's face immediately falls when I turn my back on him.

…

Around midnight is when everyone started to make their way back inside the house to start getting ready for bed. I was mindlessly scrolling through my social media, so I didn’t notice that mostly everyone had already gone inside.

“Y/n.” I look up at the mention of my name to notice that Bowen and I are the only ones left outside.

Also noticing the intense gaze I am receiving from Bowen, I quickly gather my things and stumble out, “Oh my gosh I didn’t notice everyone left already. I should head inside as well.”

Bowen is quicker though because he grabs ahold of my wrist, halting me in place before I make my very obvious escape.

“Hold on, please. Can you please talk to me?” Bowen pleads out.

“What do you mean? We’ve been talking all night.” I countered, trying one last time to get out of this conversation.

“We’ve been talking as a group all night yeah, but you couldn’t even make eye contact with me. You know what I mean. What’s been going on? Did I do something?” Bowen frowned.

At that moment I felt so guilty. I’ve been so focused on trying to ignore my feelings that I have developed that I ended up pushing my best friend away and hurting him in the process. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. I knew I would eventually have to have this talk with Bowen during this week, but I just didn’t expect it to be on the very first night.

“Okay. Yeah, let’s talk.”

I lead the way down to the dock overlooking the lake and sit down to dangle my feet into the water. I know for a fact that Grace and Cale realized that we both haven’t come in behind them, so they are most likely snooping by the backdoor wondering what we are doing.

Bowen joins me, after slipping his shoes off and dangling his feet in as well.

“What’s been going on y/n?” Bowen asks again.

“I-I think I’m in love with you.” I blurt out. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I await any type of response from Bowen. Taking a peek over at him, I see the pure shock on his face. Probably wasn’t the best idea to start off the conversation with that.

Taking his silence as a bad sign, I start spewing out whatever I can to try and calm the anxiety coursing through my veins. “I-I think I have known for a while and I just tried to ignore it, I guess. But then I realized that I was just pushing you away, an-and I never wanted to do that. Our friendship means that absolute world to me, and I would hate myself if anything I did, or-or my stupid feelings jeaporized that.” At some point during my little rant, a few tears escaped. I turn my head away as I try to hold back on a full on sob breaking loose.

“You think?” He eventually breaks the silence.

Confusedly, I turned my head back around and let out a strangled, “Huh?” I see the corners of Bowen’s mouth start curving up into a tiny smile, confusing me even more.

“You said, you think you’re in love with me.” He pointed out.

My eyebrows raise in question and I give him a little shrug, prompting him to elaborate more.

“Well… I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you.” Bowen softly declared.

My breath catches in my throat and my mouth turns as dry as the Sahara Desert. Those were definitely not the words I was expecting to come out of his mouth. He chuckles at my surprised face and scooches a little closer to my body to wipe a stray tear on my cheek.

“Are you serious?” I whisper out.

“Of course.” He whispered just as softly back to me as his head inched closer to mine.

My heart pounds in my chest as Bowen’s hand comes up to cradle my cheek. All of our pent up feelings and emotions that we both have been too afraid to admit all come crashing together as our lips finally meet. He kissed me gently, almost carefully, but after all this time gentleness was not what I wanted right now. Bowen let out a low groan as I pulled him flush against my body, my fists bunching up the collar of his shirt.

Before this could go any further, we both pull away breathlessly, basking in what truly just happened-- just now realizing how much our relationship is about to change.

“Fuck.” Bowen breathed out, running his hands over his face. “If I knew that was what it was like to kiss you I would’ve blurted out my feelings the day I met you.”

My ears perk up at his last few words and it seems like he also realizes what he just admitted, as his cheeks immediately turn a rosy color.

“You’ve liked me for that long?” I bashfully question.

Bowen runs his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath of air before answering, “Yeah, I-I mean… yeah I have.” He stumbles out, awkwardly letting out a laugh.

I lean my head on his shoulder and connect our hands, feeling super content and never wanting this moment to end. We take a moment to just sit on the dock-- with our feet hanging in the water, hands intertwined; and bask in the feeling of finally letting our feelings out into the open.

“You know everyone in that house is going to have a field day when they find out.” Bowen mumbles against my shoulder, before leaving a lingering kiss on the exposed skin.

“Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if they all had a bet going or something.” I chimed. I raise my head that had previously been resting on Bowen’s shoulder back up to look at him, and see that he is already smiling at me. “What?” I drawled, feeling my cheeks heating up under his gaze.

“You wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

My cheeks now feel on fire as I ponder on how I want to go about this. I raise my eyebrows up at him in question as I ponder out, “Do you want me in your bed tonight?”

Bowen gives me an almost incredulous look as he voiced, “Of course I want you in my bed.”

I just give him a simple nod and push my body up in a standing position, reaching out my hand to prompt Bowen to join me. “Okay, let’s go.”

Bowen immediately shoots up from his sitting position, clinging onto my hand as we make our way back up the yard to the sliding glass doors of the lake house. Just as I predicted earlier, Cale and Grace were totally snooping. Actually, the entire house was snooping. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen trying to act casual as we walked in, but as soon as they noticed our conjoined hands, all hell broke loose.

“I fucking knew it!”

“Aw you guys look so cute.”

“Bout time.”

“Ha! Nate, you owe me fifty bucks.”

I looked over at Bowen with an unimpressed look, “Told you they probably had a bet going on.” Meanwhile Bowen has an incredulous look coating his face watching his friends freak out over his newfound relationship. Instead of questioning our oddball friends, Bowen just simply shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle.

“Alright I’m heading up, I can’t deal with these idiots right now.” Bowen gives me a quick peck on the lips before announcing his departure for the night. Most of the others also start making their way up to their respective rooms for bed, the guys putting on a show of making kissy noises and making a few chirps as they follow Bowen up the stairs.

Grace joins me by the counter, making a show of wiggling her eyebrows at me. I’m smiling like an idiot as Cale also joins us, chuckling at my lovesick expression.

“You’re welcome.” Cale smirked.

I scrunch my face up in confusion as I question him back, “For what?”

“For introducing you two, duh.” Cale teased. Grace smacks him on the arm with a tut, making a show of rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. “Alright, seriously I am happy for you guys though.” He eventually relents.

My cheeks heat up from the attention but also from the thought of Bowen and I’s new relationship. Grace grabs me by the shoulders and starts pushing me in the direction of the staircase.

“Obviously I’m happy for you too. All I’ve wanted is the best for you and I think Bowen is just that. And with that being said, go get your mans!” She sends me off with a quick smack on my ass. I giggle the whole way up the stairs on the way into Bowen’s [now our] room feeling extremely giddy and content.

When I enter the room, all the lights except for the bathroom are already off, and it looks like Bowen is already settled into bed. So, I quickly do my night time routine and change into my pajamas before making my way over to the bed I will now be sharing for the week.

Bowen is awaiting me with his arms wide open, which I happily cuddle into the second I am under the covers. He buries his head into my neck, leaving featherlight kisses here and there.

“I love you.” Bowen mumbles into my neck. I card my fingers through his hair and kiss the top of his head as I mumble back those same words, in complete awe over how fast my life has changed in one night. We both knew that we would eventually be together, it just took a little time and a trip to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse for us to figure it out. This week will definitely be one for the books.

Taglist: @barzysandmarnersbitch @handwrittenheroes @hockeyplayerstories @barzy-xoxo @gnemgn @joelsfarabees

Tagging some mutuals as well so this doesnt flop,,,

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[theboredwritertm]

"Oh, darling, everybody sees how you look at him" fic request with Din/reader! (Please and thank you :3)

Everyone Knows

A/N: Another request done and dusted. I’ve been getting some new prompt lists ready for when I open requests back up again (not sure what tumblr etiquette is for compiling a masterlist using other people’s prompt-lists, but I’m considering doing something like that), but I still have about 4 or 5 fics to finish off before then!

Rating: PG?

Pairing: Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, a bit of alcohol, that’s about it. 

Word Count:  4500 (Me, failing to keep a story under 2k words? It’s more likely than you think)

Summary: After taking on the krayt dragon together, you’re forced to confront your feelings for Din (with a little help from everyone’s favorite marshal).   

***

The monster was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

There’d been times aboard the Crest, when there were still thousands of miles to go between stops, that you’d sit by Din, giving him your rapt attention as he’d recount one of his many stories about a particularly terrifying beast he’d encountered. Not that he would ever call them terrifying – the man had a will of steel when it came to facing these kinds of things. And on this occasion, in the middle of the Tatooine desert, things would prove no different. 

Only this time he had you.

You were still coming into your abilities, not really sure what they meant or the true extent of what you were capable of, and amazingly enough you found you were learning a lot from watching the Child. For instance, before he came along, you had never known you could heal people. A simple experiment with Din had proven this to be true enough – the man was prone to injury in his line of work – and though it had taken a lot of concentration, enough that you were sweating by the end, it got you wondering just what other miracles your hands could perform.

Now, standing beside Din and the man who had introduced himself to you both as Cobb Vanth, you stared down into the dragon’s lair and found yourself hoping those powers might come in handy.

“So, how’re we drawin’ this thing out?” Cobb asks.

You glance back at the dozens of townsfolk and Tuskens around you, sensing their uneasiness as they shuffle from foot to foot and cast occasional apprehensive glances in the direction of the danger and you’re surprised to see a couple of the Raiders step forward. Considering how well their peoples’ last attempt to draw out the beast had gone, you hadn’t expected any of them to be so willing to approach the pit again. 

Cobb glances over at them and cocks his head in immediate acceptance. Given his past troubles with their people, he can’t say he’s overly concerned over the prospect of losing a few more of them.

But you’ve never been one to stand by and watch people get hurt.

“No, wait.” The words leave your mouth automatically. Up until this point, you’d been feeling completely useless. Din had been keeping an even closer watch on you than usual since a stunt you had pulled back on Nevarro; one that had involved your unpredictable powers and the dozens of stormtroopers who’d had him cornered. Though he had come out of the situation a lot worse for wear than you had, he’d been hovering over you, keeping you a safe distance from any action ever since. You were starting to get sick of being kept on the sidelines. “I can do it,” you say. 

The Tuskens turn to look back at you, not able to understand what you’ve said, but sensing a potential change of plans, then their attention is drawn to the Mandalorian beside you as he quickly dashes their hopes. 

“No,” comes Din’s clear, expected response.

You turn to him. “I can handle this.”

“No. You’re staying where you are.”

You gaze at him for just a moment, anger starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach, before turning around and striding down the tall dune, towards the gaping mouth of the empty saarlac pit. You know better than to argue – you don’t have the time right now, but every time you did, he managed to use it as a way to distract you. You wouldn’t give him that opportunity now. You’d already made up your mind.

You feel the air stir as his hand shoots out to grab you, but you’re too quick; one of the things that’s managed to keep you alive this long, but now maybe the very thing that’s going to get you killed. 

“Dank Farrik!”

Cobb glances between the man beside him and your retreating form, attempting to hold back a smirk. In the short couple of days that he’s known you both, he’s already witnessed at least three separate arguments, none of which seemed to get either of you anywhere. He didn’t see this one going the big guy’s way, either.  

The modulator seems to amplify the frustration in Din’s voice, but you ignore it. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself, as you had proven to him numerous times now, and whatever problem he had with that was his own – you weren’t about to let his fears hold you back. Yet, as you draw closer to the yawning darkness, your heart begins to thud in your chest. For the first time, you feel the enormity of this creature, and you’ve never felt so small in your life. 

You sense him approach before you hear him. That was one advantage you’d always had over Din; he could never sneak up on you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of watching everyone else do everything,” you say, finally coming to a stop, your gaze still trained forward, “I want to play my part. I need to play my part.”

“No, you need to stay safe.” His words sound threatening despite their context, but you ignore him once more. This time he does grab you, catching you around the forearm as you raise your hands in the direction of the cave. “Stop!”You’re tempted to use your powers to throw him off, but you can feel how much he means it and you’re struck with a sudden guilt. He cares. That’s all there is to it. 

“Please, let me do this.” You stare up into his helmet and feel him gazing back, considering things. His fingers loosen from your wrist. 

“Fine. But I’m staying with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, not bothering to hide your bitterness at the constant babysitting – though, if you’re being honest, you do feel better with him by your side.

You raise your hands again and close your eyes, focusing on the low hum of energy around you. You don’t feel it at first, but then its as if you’ve suddenly locked onto a connection – plugged yourself into an electric charge – and everything suddenly feels heightened. Everything feels more. You draw on from that, concentrating on the pit of darkness before you, then you push forward with your mind, reaching out. In the darkness, something stirs.

“What is it?” Din asks, as if he’s sensed the sudden change.

“I feel it,” you reply, eyes still closed, your brow now marked with a frown. 

He stares down at you and you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze (as much as you can through the helmet) but before either of you can say anything, a low rumbling begins to emit from the ground.

It had worked. 

And it was heading right for you. 

You’ll admit that, as much you’d wanted to play your part in this, you hadn’t really considered what came next once you did manage to draw the thing out. So now, as you watch the sand shift and begin to rise a hundred or so feet in front of you, you find yourself rooted to the spot. 

It’s Din who moves first.

Your hands had come up again, all you can think to do to hold the beast off, then suddenly a strong arm is wrapping around your waist and you’re being propelled into the air. You glance down just in time to see the enormous mouth erupt from the ground where you had just been standing.

This time, you don’t argue. You clutch onto him, air whipping through your hair, thankful that he’s just as stubborn as you are.

When you finally land, he sets you on your feet and quickly glances down to make sure you’re alright. You give him a quick nod, sensing the question in his gaze, and then he takes off again to rejoin the action. It takes you a moment to regain your balance, and you still feel the ghost of his arm around your waist, but when you glance back you find that he’s set you down by the landspeeder, with the Child. He’s put you back at the kids’ table. 

You give a frustrated growl and the baby blinks curiously at you, eyes full of wonder. He’s just happy to be here, close to someone he likes. You offer a reassuring stroke over his little head, then turn to stalk back down the dunes; back towards the rest of the group whose lives apparently don’t mean as much to Din, since he’s more them happy for them to join in despite them having little-to-no fighting experience. You’re not about to sit back and watch them all die. 

As the dragon bursts out of the sand once more, the Tuskens and townsfolk begin firing harpoons into its side – a desperate attempt to keep it in place – and you watch as it wrenches itself free with a simple shake of its body. There’s no way this plan is going to work.

When you arrive back by Din’s side, he simply looks at you, not even bothering to admonish you, knowing it’s not going to get him anywhere at this point anyway. But as you look at him, a silent warning to not push you aside again, he sees you’ve got that same look in your eyes now as you had back on Nevarro. And it worries him. 

You move off together as a unit as the dragon begins its assault, firing with everything you’ve got to get its attention – in your case, your trusty blaster pistol – stopping only when it opens its jaws wide and proceeds to spit boiling acid down onto anyone within its reach. You watch in horror as people are disintegrated before your eyes.

A massive explosion beneath it distracts it long enough for any survivors to get clear of its path, and the creature suddenly dives.

You wait, watching for any sign that it’s coming back up, but the smoking landscape is silent and still. Yet, something doesn’t feel right.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Cobb says, voicing your concern, and you exchange worried glances.

“Me neither,” Din replies. His grip tightens on his blaster, waiting.

Then suddenly, up on the mountain, the creature bursts forth once more. It opens its mouth wide and you glance down at the people in its path about to be annihilated. You can’t watch this happen again. Moving as fast as your feet can carry you, you rush down towards them, shoving them aside with a powerful force-push seconds before the acid hits the sand, clearing them of its path just in time – leaving you in a tricky predicament. You’ve caught its attention now – and you have nowhere to go.

You catch the sound of jetpacks as Cobb and Din land either side of you, weapons raised and ready to come to your defense.

“Get back!” Din barks at you, and you find you have no choice but to listen to him. Failing to do so now, even just to prove a point, and you’re certain you’d be the dragon’s next meal. You’d pick your hill to die on one day, but this just wasn’t it. 

Din and Cobb take off into the air again, firing their weapons to draw the dragon’s attention away and give you time to escape. It works. The dragon, furious from the sudden new assault, turns and comes after them, spraying up sand as it whips its massive body in the new direction.  

As you watch them draw it further away, you can’t help but wonder what the plan is, since the original one has long fallen apart. They can’t keep drawing it away forever. Now that you have minute to breath, you look around for a way to help, and spot the explosives-laden bantha that had been led down as bait. It looks like it would rather be anywhere else and, hell, you don’t blame it, but glancing between it and the massive monster that currently has its sights set on the one man who never failed to put himself in the path of danger for you, you think maybe it was time to return the favor and finish this once and for all.

So, you grab the bellowing, hairy animal by its halter and do something stupid.

You start yelling. And waving your arms. And when that fails to grab the dragon’s attention, you start firing your weapon. Taking your odd behavior as some kind of cue, the townsfolk closest to you begin firing, too, and finally the dragon turns to face this latest assault, drawn to the movement of your waving arms and the scent wafting from the bantha. 

You spot the two armored men, now free of the dragon’s attention, flying up from the mountain before one in particular makes a sudden beeline in your direction. You can practically feel Din’s wrath radiating off of him before he even gets close, and it’s like the bantha can, too, as it begins to protest and pull against its rope. Or maybe it’s the giant monster coming to swallow it whole that has it so skittish.  Either way, you feel like an ass as you try to calm it down, knowing the only reason you’re doing so is to keep it in place long enough to be eaten.

You’re grateful to have the marshal land behind you first as Din drops down in front, poised to lose his absolute mind at you for your reckless behavior, but finding the situation momentarily put on-hold as Cobb asks to no one in particular, “Now what?”

Din’s staring at you, gaze heavy, burning, and humiliating all in one, but he doesn’t have time to berate you as the dragon breaks from a nearby dune. “I have an idea,” he says, and before either you or Cobb can ask what that is, he shoves you into the marshal’s arms and sets off the man’s jetpack, sending you both careening up and away from the dragon’s path – and leaving him right in the middle of it. 

You had come to suspect that you were in pretty deep with Din Djarin, ever since he had first rescued you many years ago, but watching him disappear into the enormous jaws of the krayt dragon was a lesson you had never asked for in how you really felt about him. Even as everyone around you falls into a stunned silence, your ears begin to buzz and you have to fight to keep your footing, absently leaning against Cobb for support as the energy drains from your legs. Cobb reaches for you but misses as you collapse down onto the sand by his feet. Your throat starts to tighten. Everything feels hazy. 

This can’t be it. This can’t be the way it happens. 

Then the beast erupts from the sand once more and you spot a familiar shape fly out of its roaring mouth. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. Suddenly, you can breathe again. Then you’re back on your feet and racing towards him.

The huge blast that follows knocks you back and you hold an arm across your eyes to protect them from the cloud of sand billowing from the site of the explosion, but even that’s not enough to stop you as you keep your sights trained on the metal armor glistening in the hot sun. 

When you finally reach Din, you stand for a moment looking at him, then a sound escapes you halfway between a sob and shout, and you shove him – hard. He stumbles backwards but remains on his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. Fury radiates from every cell in your body, and still Din just stares at you. Then you hug him. Neither of you are expecting it, and his body stiffens immediately in surprise, but when you feel him relax and one of his arms comes up to wrap around you in return, everything suddenly feels right again. You couldn’t care less that he’s covered in gross dragon goo and that it’s probably getting all over your clothes, or that there’s a crowd of onlookers witnessing this moment between you – all you care about is the fact that he’s here, that he’s still alive. 

A cheer erupts behind you as you part, and it’s not for you and Din, but for the smoking remains of the dragon nearby, and it’s soon joined by the howls of the Tuskens as they raise their weapons in victory. 

It’s over. It’s done. And as you look up at Din, you can think of many things worth celebrating.

***

And celebrate, you do. 

As much as he had wanted to make a quiet exit once he had collected his promised armor from Cobb, you had managed to convince Din to stay in Mos Pelgo just a little longer for the revelries. It had been a long time since you’d stayed anywhere close to civilization, let alone had a good reason to celebrate; and though you’d grown used to the comfortable silence of the Razor Crest, there’s some comfort in being surrounded by happy, chattering people for once, instead of the lonely vacuum of space.

Cobb had asked you back personally for a couple of drinks at the bar, and though the invitation had been extended to both of you, Din had failed to take it that way. In hindsight, you suppose your initial run-in with Cobb is to blame for this sudden standoffish behavior, since your contribution to convincing the man to hand over the beskar had involved you telling him that the helmet was ‘a waste on a face like his’. You guess that comment hadn’t sat too well with Din, but it had just sort of slipped out. What could you say? The guy was a looker. Yet even now, as Cobb glances over at your table from the bar, offering a warm, friendly smile in your direction, you find yourself distracted. 

You look around and finally spot Din. He’d been radiating quiet irritation since arriving back, and stands now in the furthest corner of the room, watching the festivities with what you imagined was a sulky expression beneath the helmet. The Child sits by his feet, on the sandy floor, playing with something round and shiny, completely absorbed in his own little world.

“I take it Mandalorian’s aren’t much for parties,” Cobb comments as he finally reaches your side with drinks, breaking you from you trance. He sits down beside you and slides one of the glasses of bright-blue liquid your way.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He nods over towards Din whose gaze is currently burning into you, and you shift uncomfortably trying to find somewhere else to direct your attention, unsure why you don’t just look at Cobb. You realize why when your eyes shift back to him and the feeling of being watched intensifies. 

“Him?” you reply, trying to sound casual, now hyperaware that Din is currently reading every detail of this interaction, “Oh, he usually just prefers the quiet, you know? Not really the social type. He’s only here because I asked.”

“Just watching over his girl, huh?” Cobb teases, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“His gir—What are talking about?”

He frowns before giving you a knowing look, then risks a quick, pointed glance towards Din, who he’s noticed hasn’t turned his gaze away from you for longer than a few seconds the entire evening. 

“We’re just friends,” you tell him, even if that label doesn’t feel quite right to you. “It’s not like that.” You take a mouthful of drink just to give yourself something to do, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. When you glance back over at Din, your cheeks heat up a little when you realize he’s still looking back. You finally drop your gaze away, reassuring yourself that the weird feeling you’ve suddenly gotten in your stomach is just the alcohol taking affect, but when you look back at Cobb you catch him smirking at you. 

“We’re friends,” you repeat, wondering who you’re trying to convince now, since Cobb seems pretty damn decided on the matter. “Colleagues, you know. We’ve just been through a lot together.” You frown as he chuckles. “What?”

“I did not just spend two days listening to the two of you bicker like an old married couple, to hear you say that you two are ‘just friends’.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I guess I just don’t look at him that way.”

“Oh, darlin’, everybody sees how you look at him.”

You think back to the desert, to your arms wrapping around him like he might disappear again at any moment; to the arm that had pulled you closer and squeezed you in return. 

You take another gulp of spotchka to calm the fluttering feeling in your belly, and shoot a quick glance over to see if he’s still looking at you.

But he’s gone.

Panic floods over you.

You look around the room, hoping you don’t look as desperate as you suddenly feel, when Cobb nudges you. You look back at him and he nods to the door, where you just manage to catch a flash of cape and armor and Din disappears through it into the night.

Cobb smiles. “Go on. Go talk to the guy. I’ll still be here if you want another drink. If not, I hope we meet again someday.” He tips his glass towards you and you nod, managing a brief smile of appreciation as you stand. 

Your legs feel heavy as you walk towards the exit. It’s dark outside – almost pitch black aside from a scattering of light coming through a few windows, and the few fires burning outside to keep people warm on the cold desert night – and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot Din still standing out on the road. It looks like the kid is giving him some trouble, his fussy cries reaching your ears easily in the quiet. He settles as soon as he sees you, though, and Din turns to see what has the ability to calm him so quickly. 

Of course, it’s you, he thinks. He should have known – you have the same effect on him.

“Hey,” you greet, still fighting back these unexplained nerves as you approach him. You’d known him for years, spent a lot of time in his company, and been through a lot together, but it’s the first time you feel nervous around him.

“Hey,” he replies simply, “I was just heading to take him back to the ship.” He pauses like he’s weighing up what he wants to say next, then adds, “When should I expect you back?”

“Back?”

“I can meet you there in the morning if that’s more suitable.” 

He’s acting weird, and though you know exactly why, you can’t help but frown at the bitterness in his tone. He’s trying to keep it cool and calm around the kid. You wonder what he’d be saying instead if it was just the two of you. 

“Why would you do that? Why would—” You hate what he’s implying, but you need him to say it, to admit why it’s a problem for him – to know if Cobb’s right. “Where am I supposed to be in all of this?”

You stare at him, the question written on your furrowed brow, wondering if he has the guts to admit the accusation outright. 

He looks back towards the bar and then back at you, cocking his helmet as if he’s expecting you to be the one to make the confession, even if there is a low rage bubbling away inside of him at the thought of it. He thinks back to the desert, to the feeling of your arms wrapped around him, to the way his own arm had come up instinctually to hold you closer, and he thinks of how much he wants that again.

“I’m coming back to the ship,” you tell him.

“Don’t do that on my account,” he replies, and you swear he says things like that just to piss you off. 

Before you can formulate a response, he turns away and starts walking towards his borrowed landspeeder. The Child looks back at you over his shoulder and stretches his little arms towards you with a cry, but Din ignores it.

You almost shout his name, forgetting for a moment where you are, and instead splutter out an awkward ‘Mando!’, which you haven’t called him in over a year; not since he entrusted you with his true name. He stops and slowly turns back. By now the kid is wriggling and fussing so much in his arms that he has to put him down, and the little one immediately heads towards you, reaching up to be held. You scoop him up and Din watches as the kid coos happily and buries his face in your hair. He’d thought they were leaving without you, Din realizes, and he can’t help but wonder if the kid’s picked up on his own emotions too – at his own distress at the thought of leaving you behind. 

He watches you for a moment as you soothe the Child, observing the tender way you fuss over him, and feels guilt start to creep over him.

“I am doing it on your account,” you tell him firmly, after a moment, finally looking back at him again, and his helmet tilts slightly as he stares back at you. You screw up your face like you hate the idea of having to say the next words out loud, but you do anyway for his sake. “I’m not interested in the marshal.”

He makes a non-committal noise like he either doesn’t believe you or he’s pretending it’s not a big deal, and you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the kid. 

You wonder what you can say, how you’re going to make him understand what you’re feeling, because you can’t go back to the ship like this – things can’t just keep on going how they have been, with the arguments and all these unspoken words that are causing them. So, you step forward, closing the gap between the two of you as you rest a hand against his chest plate to get his attention. 

Din stares down at you, heart thumping as he tries to read your expression and figure out what you’re going to say before you say it, hoping he’ll be less caught off guard this way.

You reach up to the back of his helmet, guiding him down towards you, muttering, “Come here, you idiot.” Then you press your forehead to the cold beskar of his helmet and find a way to tell him.

“Where you go, I go.”

He seems to understand that well enough. 

[blackmissfrizzle]

Angel’s Girl

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel wants everyone to know you’re his girl. Also, part of a request from @brownsugarcoffy​/  Hi! I don't know if your taking any request, but I saw this picture of this necklace with Angel on it. I was wondering if you would write a imagine of Angel Reyes giving the reader a necklace with his name to claiming her as his old lady and now Angel now wants to only see her wearing his name as they make love. I really adore your writing and know you will do it justice. ❤

Warnings: A lil angst, a lil smut, a whole lotta fluff and cheesiness. 

Here’s more of my work or if you would like to be notified here’s my taglist

At some point, you and Angel knew you had a forever kind of love. The kind of love where you get tattoos expressing that love. When it was your two-year anniversary, he propositioned the idea.

He showed you the sketches he drew of your name. He was so excited, that it physically hurt you to burst his bubble. “Angel, I love you, but there’s no way I’m getting your name tattooed on me.” Angel grabbed you by the back of your neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know, mi dulce. You’re too practical for that, so that’s why I drew you these.”

Moving his page of his drawing of your name Angel revealed a sheet of paper full of angel wings drawings. The one in the center, immediately caught your attention. “That one! That’s the one!”

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked nervously. Angel had only shown his drawings to you and EZ. He was too insecure to share them with to anyone else.

“Duh! And I’ll get ‘em on my fingers and go like this,” you flicked your wrist. “And tell them my super amazingly talented boyfriend drew them.”

“Handsome. Your super amazingly talented handsome boyfriend.”

“Oh, how could I forget!?” You smacked your forehead. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” He kissed your temple and listened to you plan when you and he would get the tattoos while he rubbed the ring finger you flicked at him earlier, thinking how well it would look with an engagement ring.

--

Angel just loved how you showed off your tattoos. Or better yet how you explained the meaning behind them. Club hang arounds? You flaunted that shit and in the next breath you threatened to punch them dead in the face if they ever disrespect you by flirting with Angel. Dudes hitting on you at the bar? You shot them down with the quickness and told them you only belonged to one person and fluttered your fingers like you were already married.

But one day the tattoos weren’t enough. Angel didn’t know what it was, but he knew he needed something else to say you’re his. An engagement ring was out of the question because he had yet to find the perfect one. Luckily, one day he stumbled onto a heart locket that had his name engraved in it and he knew that was it. That would show everyone you were his old lady.

When he brought the necklace to you, you were automatically in love, but you also had to tease him. He was practically going all caveman on you when he requested you always wear it. “Damn Angel, I might as well get your name tattooed on my forehead.”

“Angel!” You hit him as he was seriously mulling over the idea. “I’m just kidding, querdia. We want to take attention away from your big ole forehead not bring more to it.”

--

With your forgetful self, one day you forgot to put your necklace back on after the gym. That didn’t sit well with Angel, especially since you and him weren’t on the best of terms.

“Where the fuck is your necklace, Y/N?”

“In the car. I forgot to put it back on.” You set down your gym bag, went into the kitchen and got you a bottle of water.

“You forgot? Didn’t I tell you to keep it on at all times?” His insecurities were flaring up, driving him to be crazily possessive.

“Angel, I’m not your damn property! When you get that through your thick ass skull give me a call!” And with that you ran out the door with him calling after you was cut off by you slamming the door and running into your car.

That’s how you ended up at the bar, listening to some lame pickup lines.

“Angel, that’s a pretty name.”  The guy pointed to your necklace.

Soon as you decided you were going to the bar you put the necklace back on. “It is.” You replied in a monotone voice, keeping your eyes straight ahead. He didn’t take the hint that you were not interested and continued to talk to you.

When you raised your glass to take a sip, he noticed your tattoos and made some corny joke. Somehow, he kept going even though that was like the fifth joke you didn’t laugh at.

From afar Angel was watching the interaction partly amused and partly jealous. He wanted you to tell the guy get lost, but he could clearly see your annoyance and it was funny to him. He decided he’ll let it go on for a little while longer to let you suffer some more unless it got out of hand.

“So, Angel what’s a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?” The stranger was about to put his hand on your thigh, but he finally picked up on some social cues and stopped himself. “I was enjoying my drink and my name’s not Angel.”

“What? It says it right there.” He pointed to your locket. Oh, this man was dumber than you thought. “Doesn’t mean it’s my name.”

“Then whose name is it?” He got defensive, he didn’t appreciate being made a fool of.

“Her boyfriend’s.” Angel finally decided to intervene when he saw the guy become agitated.

The sleazebag was about to be Billy badass, but then he saw Angel’s kutte and became a stuttering mess. “Sor-so-so-sor-sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girl. My bad.” He didn’t even give Angel time to threaten him. He ran off afraid of what could happen.

“Took you long enough off.” Halfway through your one-sided conversation with your unwanted suitor you saw Angel’s reflection through the bar’s mirror. “You knew I was here? Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I thought you would.”

Angel took your glass and drunk the rest of your drink. “Nah, it was too much fun seeing you suffer.”

“Asshole!” You playfully shoved Angel.

He started to laugh but it eventually died down. “I’m sorry, querida.”

“For being an asshole at home or being one here?”

“At home. That shit here was too funny.” He backed away before you could hit him again. “Seriously though, I’m sorry. I don’t think of you as my property. Yeah this,” Angel moved in closer to grab your necklace, “it means you’re my girl, but the deeper meaner is that you own my heart.”

“So that means I’m not your whore you can fuck however and whenever you want?” You asked with a smirk.

“Check, please!”

—

Angel had you twisted up like some damn pretzel, but you loved it. As soon as you got home, he got on his knees and made you cum three times with his mouth and he would’ve gone for the fourth if you didn’t beg him to fuck you.

“Shit! Who’s pussy is this?” Angel was pounding into you, his eyes were focused on your locket swinging against your neck. “It’s yours Daddy!”

“Damn right it is.” He took your left hand and sucked your ring finger. With his hand he took a hold of your neck. “And next time some little bitch tried talking to you, you shit that shit down. You understand me?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered with tears streaming down your face. Angel was too good at this. You could feel another orgasm mounting up and it felt like it would be the most powerful of all.

Angel noticed you trying to hold back your orgasm because he didn’t give you the permission to cum. “Good girl.” He praised you, leaning forward until your foreheads met. “Daddy’s making you feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head, “You’re so big, I can feel you deep in my tummy.”

He pressed a hand to your stomach. “You’re right, princesa. I’m deep in them guts. But can you do me a favor baby girl?”

“Anything for you.” Angel smiled against your neck. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” And just like that you did. You screamed Angel’s name at the top of your lungs almost drowning out his own shouts of pleasure.

After that thorough round you wanted to bundle up and go to sleep but Angel made you get up. “Hygiene over comfortability,” he said.

As you went to use the restroom, he changed the sheets and started the bath. Just before you joined him in the tub, he handed you your shower cap. It was blissful silence as you two cleaned up.

Again, Angel was rubbing in your left ring finger. Ever since you got the tattoo there, he’s been obsessed, but he never gave the same attention to your middle finger with the other angel wing.

“Angel?”

“Yes, querida?”

“Why do you keep a hand on my ring finger?”

“Man, I thought you were the smart one of us two.” You splashed some water his way and he quickly apologized knowing you could start a splash war like nothing.

He brought up said finger to his lips and kissed it. “Because I can’t stop imagining how good it’ll look with a ring on it.”

His answer appeased you which led you to your conditions of your proposal. Angel listened eagerly and ingrained each requirement in his head. There was no way he was gonna mess this up.

--

He hadn’t been shopping for it, he just accidentally stumbled on it while at the mall. Weeks later, Angel finally found the perfect engagement ring for you. He was so excited that he planned to propose that night, but your nails weren’t done and one of your requirements were to make sure your nails weren’t ‘raggedy’ as you would put it.

Then another couple of weeks later the opportunity presented itself. You were on your lunch break and you came to the clubhouse to spend it with him and the guys. Your mouth was full of tacos like chipmunk cheeks while you yelled ‘No fucking way!’ at Coco and Angel thought there was no one he rather spend the rest of his days with.

He did a quick check of your nails and they still look good from the day before. Yeah there were people around, but it was people you and him consider family. Your hair was done, and you had a nice outfit on, so all the boxes were checked.

“Querida,” he called out to you to stop you from arguing with Coco.

“Yeah babe?” You turned to him and found him on one knee. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and started wiggling around doing some weird celebratory dance.

The guys turned to see what was happening and they all cracked a smile. “About damn time.” Coco slapped the back of Angel’s shoulders. The rest of the Mayans came out with their guns out when they heard your screams, but quickly put them away when they saw what was happening.

Each time Angel tried to say something you would just squeal and continue dancing, not giving him a chance to get one-word in. “Prospect, get her.” Bishop ordered, seeing how uncomfortable Angel was getting from kneeling on the gravel.

EZ wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other over your mouth. “I know you’re excited to be my sister-in-law, but you can’t say yes if he can’t ask the question. So, can you be quiet and be still?” You nodded your head fervently and EZ released you.

“Thanks, bro.” Angel cleared his throat before looking at you. He was getting nervous again, but then he saw how you had to contain your excitement and he was overwhelmed with love again. “You know I’m not good with words and shit, but I’ll try. You’re my everything, Y/N. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I honestly can’t think of my life without you because it would be too depressing. God, I hope this isn’t too corny, but here it goes: what’s the point of an angel if there’s no heaven? So, with that being said, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Angel was lucky he started to stand up because you tackled him once he slid the ring on. He was attacked with kisses all over his face and he wondered how could he had been worried about you saying no at all.

“You know you’re gonna be stuck with me forever, right?”

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with that. What’s the point of heaven if I don’t have my Angel with me?” Forever with Angel sounded like paradise and you couldn’t wait.

Tagging: @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @sadeyesgf​ @woahitslucyylu​ @starrynite7114​ @angelreyesgirl​ @blessedboo​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @richonne4life​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hot Mess

Prompt: Hi, so I really flippin love your writing style and I was wondering if you could write a fic of the sides just flirting(mainly Janus because we all know he's the best flirter) with each other, like in (Un)wanted chapter 1 where Janus was flustering Virgil really badly, that sort of thing. Could be DLAMP or DLAMPR I don't mind. You don't have too I was just wondering... Thanks either way!

First off, thank you so much for the prompt! Second...

Listen. Everything is awful and I don’t understand how flirting works. Ever. Actually, you know what, no. No one understands what flirting is. There have been so many fucking tests run and no one can ever tell who is flirting ever. It’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit and I’ve never understood a damn thing in my entire life and I’m sure as hell not about to start now. So.

That being said, here. 

Read on Ao3

Pairings: yes. LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR. 

Warnings: sympathetic janus & remus

Word Count: 5884

If you ask anyone whose fault is it that everyone, for some reason, starting flirting with each other, they’ll blame Janus. Even Janus. He knows what he did. It’s his fault.

Anyway, there are a few things that are a given. Everyone flirts with everyone, with the one exception of Roman and Remus. They’re brothers. It doesn’t work. Anything else is fair game. Are they being serious? Who knows. Probably. Maybe. Keeping anything straight around the Mindscape is complicated enough, for obvious reasons.

 Doesn’t mean there can’t be some level of trying to keep track of what’s bound to happen at some point.

 Patton’s flirting is both the least obvious and the most obvious. It’s super cheesy pick up lines delivered completely genuinely and the sweetest pet-names ever. But the problem is that’s not too different from how he normally is. For some reason, the Dad Coaxing Tone™ is the worst and he knows it. He doesn’t flirt nearly as often as some of the others do and he’s surprisingly sweet about it. It normally just makes them kind of giggly and slightly redder than normal. Always comes with hugs, which is never something to complain about. Cheeky comments and cheeky smiles that leave them second-guessing everything that just happened. And, of course, by the time they’re just about finished wrapping their heads around what just happened, he’s back with another line and here they go again.

 Roman.

 Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

 They should have expected this because his job is romance but fucking hell.

 His way of showing love is through poking fun at things so…all the teasing. All of it. Not just verbal teasing, even though that in itself is enough to make everyone melt into puddles, but he gets close. Like, sneak-up-and-hug-you-from-behind kind of close. Or he’ll just stand really close with a smirk as he teases them, waiting for them to give in and run into his arms. Or he’ll crowd them against the wall. Or the counter. Someone probably dared him to do this—or not, because, again, it’s Roman—but he definitely pinned Logan to the wall and didn’t let up until his grip on Logan’s wrists were the only thing keeping him standing. Also, super gushy pet-names. Like, super gushy. Like Patton, very fond of telling them how cute they are, including asking them why they’re hiding such a cute face, come on, he wants to see how adorable they are. With Janus and Logan, he makes his voice lower, taking advantage of how close that lets him get. Dramatic monologues or sneaking up and dipping them are a must. He goes full Disney Prince and doesn’t let up until they can’t even ramble anymore, smiling down at their bright red cheeks. With the others, he makes his voice very sweet, soft, and gentle. He gets right in their faces so they can’t go anywhere and riles them up until they’re a melted squirmy mess. It’s not uncommon to find someone—normally Patton or Virgil— an absolute puddle with Roman beaming, just twisting them round and round his finger. Merciless and shameless flirt. Roman is the actual worst and they all love him.

  Virgil is affectionately known as The Meme Flirter. No prizes for guessing who came up with that. He picks one nickname for each of them and just peppers it into conversation with a wink and a smirk. The master of timing. He doesn’t need to spend ages winding them up, he just picks the right moment and they’re covering their faces and squirming. Also uses the technique of being close but not close enough to touch. Sometimes he’ll team up with Roman or Logan and just be there all ‘you know he’s right’ when they look to him for help, or engage in conversation with whoever else is flirting about how red they’re getting, or how much they’re squirming. Or he’ll engage in flirt competitions. He’s way more confident about it than they ever anticipate and it always catches them off guard. He keeps an eye on them though, because he knows the others (especially Roman) can get carried away. “You don’t wanna break ‘em, do you?”

 (They do sometimes but shh.)

 For Logan, infodumping is the actual best way of expressing affection and you will not convince him otherwise. He’ll research topics so they can talk about them together if they want but if you think that is it then boy howdy you are wrong. This guy keeps notebooks on the best way to fluster each and every one of the Sides, okay. He knows his shit. He infodumps about them too, phrasing compliments as provable facts. Will pretend to be confused about why they’re getting so flustered, he’s just telling them the truth, why are you so red? It would be convincing if he weren’t purposefully making his voice as low as it can go and smirking. Also a teasy bastard. He will just ask them to do things he knows they can’t help doing when they get flustered, especially with Patton or Janus. He’s asked Janus to squee for him more often than he would like. (Liar.) Or they’ll be protesting and telling them to knock it off and he’ll just point out that ‘no one is holding you. Nor are we blocking any exits. By all means, if you wish to leave, then you may.’ Knowing perfectly well they’re puddles and puddles can’t move. But then ‘oh, you must not want to leave.’ ‘Accidental’ touches make it worse, as well as nonchalantly adding in pet-names. He’s the one who figured out that pet-names make them melt, by the way. Also figured out that firmer touches help ground them, so he offers them a deal sometimes. If they like, they can come and cuddle with him while he flirts. It gives them an excuse to cuddle and a place to hide, but that does mean he’s murmuring right into their ears. It’s a double-edged sword. When he teams up with Roman they are the worst, especially when they agree that it’s necessary to reestablish emotional stability. Or they’re bored, snickering when poor Virgil bolts out of the room from too much blush. Virgil will run away if it gets to be too much, he’s got that built into his whole deal as anxiety, but Janus…forget about it. That team-up definitely has overwhelmed the poor thing multiple times. You can’t freeze with these predators, they’ll eat you alive. They definitely teased and flirted with him until he burst into tears one time, it was…an experience.

 “Enough!”

 Roman pauses, midway through some dramatic gesture, faltering at the crack in Janus’s voice. Logan glances at him before looking back at Janus, his hands still pressed hard to his face, his shoulders tense. He takes a small step forward and tilts his head.

 “Janus?”

 He calls his name softly until he lowers his hands, unable to stop the comforting noise when he sees the tears on his cheeks. Beside him, Roman inhales sharply, only to make a noise of protest when he immediately covers his face again.

 “Janus,” he says, dropping the flirty persona immediately, “may I touch you?”

  Please say yes, please.

 He nods. Logan reaches out, gently covering his hands to coax them away, clutching them tightly.

 “Too much?” Janus nods. “My apologies, it was not my intention to overwhelm you.”

 “Nor mine, little snake,” Roman says quietly.

 “I know.”

 “Would you like us to stay,” Logan asks gently, giving his hands a squeeze, “or leave you alone?”

 Janus shuffles, his mouth drawing tight and his hands tensing. Logan is content to wait patiently for him to make up his mind, but Roman seems to have other ideas.

 “Oh dear,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer, “we really overdid it this time, didn’t we, darling?”

 “I said enough,” Janus mumbles.

 “I know, I know, I’m done,” he assures, reaching out to tenderly wipe his cheek, “I promise. Oh, oh you poor thing…”

 “Roman,” Logan chides gently, “I don’t think…”

 He trails off when Janus frees one of his hands, tentatively reaching out for Roman. Roman swoops in, gathering him into a hug so tight his fingers whiten from his grip on him. As Logan watches, Roman tilts his head slightly, beginning to pepper kisses along the side of his face.

 “I don’t understand,” he says quietly, “how…how is this not more overwhelming?”

 “I think you’re going to have to wait to ask him that, Specs,” Roman murmurs, “because I don’t know that either.”

 “Then how did you know it would work?”

 Roman looks up at him, sadness coloring his gaze. “Because a different face told me it would.”

  Ah.

 “I’m right here,” Roman says softly, rocking Janus in his arms, “I’m right here, little snake. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

 Janus all but slumps into Roman’s embrace, his head tucking neatly against his shoulder as he presses more kisses to his face.

 “I have you, alright? I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.” Roman adjusts his grip. “It’s just like we always do, hmm? I rile you up and then you come here and I cuddle you right back down.”

 He pulls back to gently catch another tear with his thumb. “Just pushed a bit too far this time, hmm?”

  I rile you up and cuddle you back down.

  Like we always do.

  I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.

 “I understand,” Logan breathes, “I understand now.”

 “Understand what?”

 “What’s happening.” Logan steps forward, gently resting his hands on the part of Janus’s back not covered by Roman’s arms. “And how I can help.”

 “By all means then,” Roman says, “tell us.”

 “Janus is…not accustomed to receiving compliments,” Logan begins, lightly hushing Janus’s noise of protest.

“It’s true, little snake,” Roman says.

 “Yes, and we will work on that,” Logan promises, “but that does make it easy to blindside or disarm him with comments of that nature. Hence…”

 He motions between the three of them.

 “You’re not used to experiencing affection like this,” he continues softly, “and especially not through flirting or playful teasing, which is why it doesn’t take much effort on our parts to fluster you.”

 Janus makes another noise of protest and he shushes him gently.

 “I’m not trying to tease, Janus, I promise,” he murmurs, “but it doesn’t, does it? It makes you uncomfortable because you don’t understand it, not really, so you don’t know what to expect next. We have not exactly been…forthcoming with affection in the past, have we?”

 Janus nods hesitantly.

 “This, however,” Logan continues, leaning a little more of his weight onto his hands, “is a form of affection you understand very well.”

 He steps a little closer, rubbing firm circles into Janus’s back.

 “You are a very heat-sensitive person,” he says, “and you understand how to give and receive affection in this language, so to speak. When one of us touches you while we are teasing or flirting with you, it heightens the loss of control you feel because it’s something that should be familiar, but it’s being used in an unfamiliar way.”

 “But when it’s like this,” Logan continues, leaning closer, “it’s calming. Grounding. Especially after you’ve just been in a state of higher stress. You know what we mean by it.”

 “When I put my hand on your shoulder or your back,” he murmurs, shifting his weight further onto his hands, “you know it means I’m here, right here, and I’m not going anywhere. When Roman kisses you—“ Logan smiles when Roman uses that as an excuse to press another kiss to Janus’s forehead— “you know it means he cares about you, that he won’t let anything hurt you.”

 “Look at our resident genius over here,” Roman says, leaning over to peck Logan’s cheek too, smirking when it brings a flush to his face, “aww, Logan, feeling left out?”

 “No,” Logan replies stiffly, ignoring the growing smirk on Roman’s face, “and even if I were, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

 “No, no,” Janus mumbles, “I’m good now, I can leave, it can be Logan’s turn.”

 Roman raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you gonna let that go?’

 Logan will most certainly not.

 “I can assure you,” he rumbles into Janus’s ear, “I am perfectly satisfied with our roles as they currently stand.”

 Roman chuckles when Janus squirms in his grip.

 “After all,” Logan continues, “we have just established that this can be quite the cathartic experience for you, it wouldn’t do at all to interrupt it before it is complete.”

 “Did you just…create a scientific excuse to do this in the name of maintaining emotional stability?”

 Logan smirks. “Perhaps.”

 “You know better than to try and argue with Logan about science,” Roman adds.

 Janus swats at them half-heartedly but doesn’t protest when Roman lets him go a few moments later, pressing one last kiss to his forehead and leaving. Logan taps him gently on the shoulder.

 “Am I correct, Janus?”

 “Yeah,” he mumbles, a little red still on his cheeks, “you’re right.”

 “Good.” Logan reaches out and slides the tissue box closer. “And…thank you.”

 He looks up, confused. “For what?”

 Logan smiles. “For telling us it was too much, and for letting us help.”

 That’s the first time Logan’s able to determine exactly how best to help one of them calm down, especially after one of them is incredibly flustered. The first time he implements it is under…slightly different circumstances.

 He’s not quite sure how Virgil and Roman talked him into playing Truth Or Dare, but here he is, on the couch, Roman sprawled across the floor, Virgil perched on the back. So far he’s had to cover his ears from Roman belting the third Disney medley in an hour and he has several questions for Remus about where his good clipboard is. Then it’s Virgil’s turn again and he picks dare.

 “Are you sure, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance?” Roman asks.

 “Just hit me with it, Princey.”

 Roman taps his fingers against his chin, glancing around. His eyes land on a spot over Logan’s shoulder and he grins. Logan follows his gaze and sees Janus in the kitchen.

 “I dare you,” Roman announced, “to flirt with Patton for two minutes.”

 Virgil snorts. “That’s it?”

 Roman just sweeps his arm dramatically. “Your dare awaits.”

 Virgil shrugs, getting up off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. The instant he’s almost there, Roman scrambles up, jumping onto the couch next to Logan, almost landing on top of him, hooking his chin over the back.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

 “Shush, Pocket Protector,” Roman says, flapping a hand, “and get your timer out.”

 Logan rolls his eyes, checking his watch and watching Virgil lean on the counter, propping his chin on his hand.

 “Hey there, cutie.”

 Patton startles, whirling around to see Virgil. “Hey! Wow, you scared me, uh, yeah, hi there!”

 “Sorry,” Virgil smiles, not sounding the least bit sorry, “can’t help it. You look like a cute little bunny when you’re startled.”

 “Oh, god, not this,” Patton mutters, turning around, his face already starting to flush.

Virgil grins, his tongue between his teeth as Patton tries to go back to what he was doing. “You just make it too easy, cutie.”

 “I do not!”

 The grin turns feral. “Then why don’t you turn around and show me that pretty face?”

 “Nope. No thank you. I’m going to stay over here.”

 “Why, afraid of proving me right?”

 “No.”

 “Then come on, cutie,” Virgil says, tilting his head, “turn around.”

 Patton leans his head back, sighing before turning around and spreading his arms. “Happy?”

 “Mm.” Virgil grins. “You’ve got such pretty eyes, Patton.”

 He stutters, his face already turning red. “Oh my god. Stop!”

 “Can’t help it cutie,” Virgil says, waggling his eyebrows and chuckling when Patton covers his face, “I’ve been dared to do this for two minutes!”

 “Good to know,” Patton squeaks, “that this is only happening because it’s mandatory.”

 “Aw, don’t be like that, cutie, you know I’ll flirt with you anyway.”

 “That is not what I meant!”

 Virgil only laughs harder. “You might wanna pace yourself, cutie, you’ve still got…”

 He trails off, looking at Logan. Logan checks his watch.

 “One minute and twelve seconds.”

 “One minute and twelve seconds left,” Virgil finishes, propping himself back up on the counter, “so…”

 The sight is entertaining, Logan has to admit. Patton goes bright and flushed, his eyes squeezing shut, mumbling little things to himself and trying not to whine every time Virgil opens his mouth.

 “Aw,” Virgil teases when he breaks and tries to bite down on his knuckle, “don’t muffle yourself, cutie.”

 “Goodness, you need to stop.”

 “I want your voice on my playlist, it’s so pretty.”

 “Why?”

 “I just said.” Virgil props his chin on his hand again. “It’s so pretty.”

 “No, why are you doing this?”

 Virgil smirks. “Because you’re so pretty.”

 And with that, Patton’s reduced to another blushy panic with plenty of muttered comments and Virgil’s standing there, grinning. It’s refreshing, seeing Virgil so confident, so sure of himself. It looks good on him.

 And, of course, Patton is objectively adorable.

 The scene is so captivating, in fact, that Logan glances down at his watch only to realize the two minutes have expired.

 “Time,” he calls, much to Patton’s relief.

 “Thank goodness.”

 “Aw,” Virgil pouts, “you’ll hurt my feelings, cutie.”

 “Nope. No more.” Patton points a stern finger at him, the effect slightly undone by his pink cheeks and the fact that he’s obviously fighting a smile. “You get out.”

 Virgil just winks and saunters back to the couch.

 “Stellar performance, Dark and Stormy,” Roman declares, giving Virgil a round of applause, “truly excellent.”

 “Well done,” Logan says, “that was quite the display of self-confidence.”

 Virgil just lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “Eh. Easy dare. My turn now, right?”

 “Indeed.”

 Virgil narrows his eyes, glancing between the two of them. “Princey. Truth or dare?”

 “Dare,” Roman answers immediately, “what kind of prince would I be if I turned down a challenge?”

 Virgil smirks. “Alright, then. You have two minutes to make Patton redder than I did.”

 “Done.”

“Virgil,” Logan chides lightly as Roman prances off toward the kitchen.

 “Relax,” Virgil says, settling in to watch, “it’s not like he’s gonna hurt him.”

 “No, he’s just going to fluster him with the end goal of rendering him inarticulate.”

 Virgil smirks. “Exactly. Now shut up and watch.”

 “Oh, Addie,” Roman calls, smirking at the way Patton startles.

 “Oh, um, hey, Roman, um, what do you want?”

 “I just want to talk to you, Patton.”

 “Oh goodness,” Patton mumbles, already covering his face as Roman crowds him against the counter, “don’t say my name like that, that’s really mean!”

 Roman’s eyes gleam. “Dearest, if you wanted me to call you pet names instead, you only had to ask, my sweet, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

 “No!”

 Roman just smirks, bracing his hands on either side of him. “No? Then what should I call you, gorgeous?”

 Any reply is too muffled for Logan to hear. Virgil snickers as Roman sighs dramatically.

 “Fine, I’ll just have to call you by your lovely, lovely name.” He leans forward to try and peer through the gaps in his fingers. “Almost as lovely as you.”

 He chuckles when Patton whines again, spluttering like a fish out of water. “You’re so cute when you’re at a loss for words.”

 “What do you want?”

 “Oh, I was dared to make you redder than Virgil did.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you’re absolutely stunning, darling,” Roman answers easily, “and it’s stunningly easy to flirt with you.”

 “It is not!”

 Virgil snorts and Logan raises an eyebrow. Roman’s smirk widens.

 “Of course is it, cutie pie,” he coos, “all I have to do is this.”

 “N-no, don’t do that,” Patton stammers, trying to cover his face with a dish towel, only for Roman to catch his hands and effortlessly pull them out of the way, lacing their fingers together and holding them against the counter.

 “What’s the problem, sweetie?” He gently blows a strand of hair out of Patton’s face. “Is it just that I’m…right here? Talking like this to you? Is that it, honey?”

 “Mmm!”

 “Hmm?” Roman tilts his head. “What’s that, cutie?”

 “It’s not even flirting,” Patton manages, still looking as if he’s trying to sink into the counter.

 “I’m not even saying anything, cutie,” Roman coos, “and there’s nothing I enjoy better than being able to render you speechless like this.”

 Logan has to admit, Roman’s teasing is enough to make him shift on the couch, a slight flush rising unbidden to his face. Judging by the way Virgil starts fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, he’s not immune to it either.

 It really should not be that much of a surprise that Roman is one of the most proficient flirters in the Mindscape. Romance, passion, and desire all fall under his purview. And yet, here they all are, slowly growing more and more flustered.

 “Okay,” Virgil mutters just loud enough for Logan to hear, “Princey’s getting me and he’s not even trying.”

 “I concur.” Logan adjusts his tie and glances at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

 “Come on.” Roman tugs gently at the towel in Patton’s hands. “You have to show me your cute little face, otherwise I won’t know if the dare’s over yet!”

 He finally manages to get the towel away from him and gasps, quickly reaching out to cup his cheeks before he can cover his face again. “Oh, just look at you, you’re even cuter up close!”

  “R-Roman!”

 “Yes, cutie pie?”

 “Let me go!”

 “Go where,” Roman murmurs, pushing Patton gently against the counter, “can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my arms, while I tease you silly? Hmm? You’re not even trying to get away, sunshine.”

 “Time.”

 Roman chuckles, stepping back, perching his hands on his hips. “What do you think, redder than Virgil’s go?”

 “Hmm,” Virgil hums, leaning over the back of the couch, “dunno. Can’t see his face from here.”

 “I’m mad at you,” Patton mutters, already covering his face.

 “Aw, no,” Roman purrs, “no you aren’t. Come on, gorgeous, if you don’t show us your face, I’ll just have to do it again!”

 “No.” Patton forces his hands down, making Roman chuckle again. Sure enough, his face is beet red, covering his skin with such intensity that for a moment, Logan worries. Then Virgil snorts.

 “Aww, he’s so cute!”

 “I know, isn’t he?”

 “Oh my goodness.”

 “Virgil,” Logan chides lightly.

 “You’re no fun, teach,” Virgil says, waving a hand, but he concedes. “Yeah, alright, Princey. You win.”

 Roman bows, sweeping his hand in a wide arc, before taking one of Patton’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

 “Thank you, sunshine.” With a wink, he strides back to the couch and sits down triumphantly. “That was fun!”

 His eyes widen when he sees Logan adjust his glasses nervously and Virgil quickly flips up his hood.

 “Don’t tell me that you got flustered too,” he teases, reaching up to poke Logan’s arm.

 “Enough,” Logan says quickly, “your turn to ask.”

 For a moment, he braces himself for Roman to not, indeed, agree, but then Roman simply pouts and tilts his head up.

 “Logan, dare or dare?”

 Logan blinks. “That is not the game, Roman.”

 “Yeah, but you’re the only one who hasn’t done a dare yet, so…” Roman shrugs. “Dare or dare?”

 “It seems pointless for me to choose between two of the same options,” Logan sighs, “but I will select ‘dare.’”

 Roman tilts his head this way and that, considering Logan. Then he grins.

 “I don’t think it’s fair if we leave Logan out,” he says to Virgil, “do you?”

 “Oh, goodness, hasn’t Patton had enough?”

 Virgil narrows his eyes at him. “So you don’t wanna have a turn?”

 Logan fiddles with his watch. “…I didn’t say that.”

 “Marvelous!” Roman claps his hands. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Logan!”

 “We know you’ve got notebooks full of ways to fluster us, L,” Virgil adds, “you’re good at it, okay?”

 Logan is quite proud of his ability to flirt, although how the others know about his research is a worrying question.

 “So,” Roman says cheerfully, “you have two minutes, but you have a harder job than we did.”

 Logan frowns and Roman’s grin widens.

 “You have two minutes to make Patton melt.”

 “Oh, Logan’s screwed,” Virgil chortles, tugging at his hoodie strings, “he’s so wound up right now.”

 Well.

 Logan gets up, adjusts his tie, and heads for the kitchen, ignoring the way Roman and Virgil scramble up onto the couch to watch.

 Patton’s leaning over the counter, pressing his hand to his forehead. He glances up when Logan enters the kitchen and pauses. Contrary to his previous statement, he doesn’t look upset or angry, simply exhausted.

 “You too, hmm?”

 “I’m afraid so.”

 Patton groans, letting his head drop onto the counter. “Did I do something? Or are you all just bored?”

 “We’re bored,” Virgil shouts, “and you’re cute!”

 “Shh, it’s not your turn anymore!”

 “Shut up, Princey.”

 Logan rolls his eyes fondly, stepping closer. Patton straightens up, waving a hand.

 “Go on. Just get it over with.”

 “And I thought Roman was dramatic,” Logan remarks dryly, “but I am not keeping you here. If you truly wish to leave…”

 He gestures toward the stairs. Patton glances between him and the stairs.

 “…really?”

 “By all means,” Logan says, lowering his voice and leaning against the wall to demonstrate he had no intentions of moving, “be my guest.”

 He watches, carefully keeping his face blank, as Patton starts to edge around the counter. He eyes the little bit of space he’s left and he can see the moment he realizes it’s not enough.

 “Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna go now.”

 “I know.” Logan tilts his head and smiles. “I’m not stopping you.”

 He stops out of his reach and stares at the gap again. One more little push, then.

 “You know…” Logan adjusts his glasses and looks Patton up and down. “You do not seem to be particularly…eager to leave, Patton.” He lets the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk. “Could it be that…you do not wish to leave?”

 Patton takes the bait.

 As soon as Patton gets close enough, Logan hooks his foot around his ankle and blocks his exit, not bothering to hide his smirk this time. “However,” he says quietly, “I do have a task to perform.”

 “You,” Patton mumbles, closing his eyes, “are mean.”

 “Then allow me to make it up to you.” Logan moves, using his weight to push him back into the kitchen. “I have a proposition.”

 “Logan…”

 Logan smiles, leaning against the counter. “Come here.”

 “That sounds awful.” Logan raises his eyebrows. “…okay, okay, I’m coming.”

 Patton stops in front of him, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist. He does indeed look very cute.

 “Touch can be very grounding for you,” Logan says quietly, careful to keep his voice too low for Roman and Virgil to hear, “so if you like, you may cuddle with me for the duration of the two minutes.”

 “…really?”

 “Yes, really.” He holds out one hand, palm up. “Or, you may leave. I won’t stop you this time.”

 He hugs himself tighter, glancing between the stairs and Logan’s hand. He tilts his head.

 “Come here, Patton,” he murmurs.

 He takes his hand.

 He pulls Patton closer, opening his arms and letting him hug him nervously. He hugs him back, creating a little pocket of intimacy apart from the rest of the room.

 “There…” Logan leans down to whisper in his ear. “Isn’t that better? Now you have something to hold onto, something to hide your face, hmm?”

 Patton nods, his face buried in his shoulder.

 The other thing about having Patton in his arms is that he can murmur directly into his ear, which both prevents Roman and Virgil from hearing anything he’s saying and makes flustering him much, much easier. He says as much, smiling when Patton whines and tightens his grip.

 “Do you know what my dare was, Patton?” When he shakes his head, Logan reaches up to gently run his hand through his hair. “It was not, in fact, to fluster you, but to make you melt.”

 “M-melt?”

 “Yes, dear,” Logan smirks when Patton shudders involuntarily. “Do you like the pet names, little one?”

 “Logan…”

 “Shh,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair again, “it’s quite alright, dear. Physical affection helps you relax, pet names make you feel cared for. It makes sense.

 “You are a sweetheart. No, no, don’t disagree with me,” he hushes, “you are. You care very much about how you can help other people and you do, sweetheart. It follows that having such affections be returned make you feel good.”

 He tightens his grip, cradling his head against his shoulder. “You feel good right now, don’t you, dear?”

 “…yes.”

 “Then, truly, how can you blame us for wanting to call you so many?” Logan tilts his head a little more. “You always get so flustered by it.”

 “No, I don’t…”

 “You clearly do,” he purrs, “you’re not hiding it well, dear. I can feel how warm your face is, pressed into me like that.”

 As he speaks, he feels it grow warmer still. He chuckles.

 “Oh, there’s really no need to be so embarrassed, dear,” he murmurs, “it makes complete sense. Hugs have been proven to decrease stress, reduce blood pressure, and increase the production of oxytocin.“ He smirks. “Quite the addictive drug, no?”

 Patton whines and he runs his hand slowly down his spine, pulling his hips against his.

 “You are smaller than me—“

 “Hey!”

 “—you are, which increases the feeling of protection,” he murmurs, “and safety, and thus you will relax.”

 He draws the word out with deliberate slowness, the end of it turning into a chuckle as he trembles in his hold.

 “That’s it, dear,” he says softly, “relax. Because there’s one more reason you’re going to melt for me.”

 Logan pauses, glancing up to see Roman and Virgil staring at them over the edge of the kitchen counter. He smirks and puts his mouth deliberately close to Patton’s ear.

 “You care for me, don’t you, Patton,” Logan whispers, his breath ghosting over his neck, “you do, don’t you? You care for me.”

 Patton whimpers.

 “Say it, dear,” Logan coaxes, “say you care for me?”

 “…of course I do,” comes the strangled whisper.

 “Of course you do,” he purrs, “of course you do, and here you are…wrapped up in my arms…letting me call you pet names…letting you hide your blush in the crook of  my neck…”

 He shifts one last time, making sure Roman and Virgil can see. Raising his voice slightly, he cups the back of Patton’s head protectively. He glances at his watch.

 “Ready?” He threads his fingers through the baby hairs on the back of Patton’s neck.

 “One…two…three, melt for me, dear.”

 The two minutes run out just as Patton whines and melts into a blushing little puddle in Logan’s arms.

 “Holy shit,” Logan hears Virgil mutter, “he fucking did it.”

 “I’m never underestimating him again.” Roman throws his hands up. “He did it in two minutes.”

 He tightens his grip, his nails scratching the back of his neck. “Good job, dear.”

 And if it makes him shudder and lean into him a little more, well, that’s just something else to add to the notebook.

 It’s cathartic; he can wind them up, make them all flustered, and then open his arms and cuddle them right back down, give them the reassurance of getting all worked up in a safe environment where nothing’s really gonna hurt them. Plus, if they’re too tired to protest when he peppers kisses all over them, that’s just a bonus.

 Janus—the one whose fault this is—is classic spy movie seduction. Textbook. His silver-tongue makes compliments as smooth as his scales and subtle touches that make their heads spin. Pet names, snarky comments, teasing, the lot of it. He knows they have a thing for his voice. All he has to do most of the time is get close and purr and they’re putty in his hands. Sometimes he’ll stay further away where they have nowhere to hide and just watch them squirm. Sometimes he just has to look at them a certain way and they’re gone. He is the embodiment of using the business end of your weapon to homo-erotically tilt up your opponent’s chin. Rivals Roman for how easy it is for him to make them flustered, but unlike Roman, with him, it’s a toss-up. He knows he’s a lot, and odds are, if he’s going to flirt with them, it’s more likely to be for the catharsis reason and less because they’re fun to play with. (Even though they are.) So, if he’s not having a competition with another Side or in a playful mood, he’s much gentler about it than Roman is, he’ll stop a lot sooner or pull them into his lap for cuddles. Or, like Remus, he’ll just touch them, let them hide their face in the crook of his neck, and just run his hands over them. It’s a perfect combination of grounding and flustering. Plus, warmth is good for snakes and there’s nothing warmer than a bright, flushed, flustered face. Totally doesn’t fluster people on purpose to steal their body heat.

 Remus is by far the only side where his approaches are completely different depending on who it is. Virgil is flustered very easily by his innuendos and everything, the more audacious, the better. Sometimes it resorts to the two of them having a flirt-off, the loser hiding their face while the victor cackles. Or Remus will make something that totally isn’t an innuendo into one and Virgil’s gone. For Logan, often he’ll just find him and tackle him onto the nearest surface, flopping down on top of him like a cat and listening as Patton starts verbally vomiting as he gets redder and redder. But overt sexual references make Patton and Janus really really uncomfortable, so it’s the bad kind of flustered. Instead, he’ll just find them and cuddle them and loudly explain how they are in fact the best cuddler. He finds how embarrassed they get very amusing. And if it has the side effect of summoning everyone else to a cuddle pile both because of the outrageous idea that anyone is better at cuddling than them and also free cuddles, well. Oops.

 So yeah. It’s a fucking mess.

 At least it’s a hot mess, right?

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[littleoldrachel]

"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish” (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He’s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.

[thebakingqueen5]

KW 2021: Height Difference

Day 1 for Kataang Week 2021 hosted by @kataang-week with the prompt Height Difference!

Links: AO3 | FF.net

Summary: Another year, another summer, another week of prompts celebrating our favorite couple. Kataang Week 2021 Day 1: Height Difference. It’s his 14th birthday and Aang is feeling frustrated. Katara wants to help and Aang confides in her about some of his insecurities.

Word Count: 2.2K

After a long day of festivities, night had finally fallen across the Fire Nation palace, and Aang and Katara were ready to head to bed and get some well-earned rest.

The couple had just finished up at the banquet and silently walked through the dimly lit halls to Aang’s room so as to not alert Katara’s overprotective brother. Though they had merely been cuddling the last few nights before sleeping, Sokka would surely throw a fit if he knew that they were sharing a room at all, hence a bit of secrecy was needed.

At last, they arrived- the third door on the right in the central wing of the palace had been designated the Avatar’s quarters since as early as Kyoshi’s time. It was a fair distance away from the rest of the bedrooms in the west wing, and it also had far more extravagant commodities with its own mini-courtyard and balcony, giving the pair plenty of space to get away from the rest of the world and simply enjoy being with each other.

“Today was fun,” Katara sighed as they finally entered the room, taking off her shoes at the entrance and immediately going towards the inviting bed.

She let herself fall onto the soft mattress, groaning softly as her limbs were finally able to relax after a long day of dancing, cooking, and celebrating for the airbender’s 14th birthday, while Aang gently closed the door with a soft thump.

“Yeah,” Aang chuckled as he joined her on the bed. He pulled some of the thin cotton sheets over them and then curled up next to her on his side.“It sure was... something.”

The waterbender shifted slightly to allow her boyfriend to rest his head in the crook of her neck and absentmindedly traced the outline of the blue arrow on his head while he closed his eyes in contentment.

“Something?” she questioned. Katara furrowed her eyebrows, her movements faltering. “Did you not have fun, Aang?”

The airbender winced when he heard the twinge of hurt in Katara’s voice. She hadn’t been trying to make it sound that way, but she had been planning the event for weeks and naturally was a little offended by the implication of his words.

“Oh. No, sweetie, I didn’t mean it that way. The party was amazing! The food, the drinks, the music, everything was spectacular. You did an amazing job, and it means a lot to me that you care so much.”

Katara let out a quiet breath of relief, resuming her gentle touches to his tattoos.

“Of course I care, sweetie. You’re my boyfriend, and I love you. That’s why if you didn’t like it, I won’t be mad, really.”

Aang tilted his head up and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “That wasn’t it, I promise. I just… I had  a bit on my mind today.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him tenderly.

He sighed and buried his face in her neck. “I guess... it would be nice to get it off my chest. It’s not like anyone else would get it anyways.”

The waterbender gave him a curious look, silently encouraging him to continue.

“It’s so stupid, but I heard some nobles talking when I stepped away to get us some water. They just kept going on and on about how much of a child I was and how I’m too young and too scrawny and too short for you, and, well, they’re right!”

He turned his body away from her now frowning face and pulled the blankets snug around his body like a protective cocoon.

“You’re almost 16, Tara,” Aang murmured. “A young woman in every sense of the word. Spirits, you’re of marrying age in a month! Me? I’m just a loser kid you found washed up in an iceberg. How could I ever be deserving of you?”

“Oh, Aang…”

She shifted onto her side as well and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back and listening to the rhythm of his breathing.

“Those nobles are utterly ridiculous. First of all, it’s only two years! What difference does two years make in the long run? It doesn’t, that’s what. My parents were four years apart and were the happiest two people in the world! A gap of two years is insignificant,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Second of all, sure we’re young, but considering that we saved the world even younger, I think it’s safe to say we’ve matured beyond our years. We’re certainly old enough to know we love each other, and that’s all that matters.”

“Doesn’t change the other part though,” Aang muttered in response. “Spirits, I’m 14 and barely the same height as you. A little shorter if we’re being honest. It’s so annoying! Why can’t I just grow up already?”

“Sweetie?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t mean for this to come off the wrong way, but why do you care about that? What difference does it make?”

The airbender remained silent for a few moments and pondered her question, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“The monks had always taught me to judge people based on the content of their character, not their exterior, and to draw satisfaction from being self-assured, rather than care about what other people thought. And in most cases I feel like I do that pretty well, but…”

“But?”

A subtle pink tinted Aang’s cheeks and he took her hands in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

“You’re different, Katara. You’re the one I love more than anything, the one I would do anything for, the one whose opinions, thoughts, and feelings mean the world to me. You’re the most amazing person on the planet, and you deserve someone worthy of you. Look at Haru and Jet! They were both older and taller and so even something as small as noticing the height difference when we’re dancing kinda hurts. It just feels like I’m the odd one out. I know that’s silly but-”

The waterbender cut him off and shook her head.

“It’s not silly, Aang. Believe me, I’ve felt the same way more times than I’d care to admit. But, in the end, none of that matters. I love you. I chose you . You’re not just my boyfriend, you’re my best friend."

He turned back around to face her and swept her up in an embrace, mind immediately put at ease by her words.

“Plus,” she continued, “So what if you’re a little shorter than me now? You’ll grow in no time. Quite frankly, I’ll miss being taller than you when you do.”

The airbender quirked an eyebrow. “You’ll miss it?”

Katara chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead, right at the tip of his arrow.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I will. Being able to do that, not having to look up or go on my toes trying to kiss you, I won’t be able to do all that forever. Things like kisses, hugs, they’re a lot more… accessible with our current heights.”

“Hmm,” Aang hummed. “I guess I never really thought of it like that. I still want to grow taller of course, but when you put it like that, I might miss this a little bit too.”

“Let’s not get too carried away with the future, okay?” Katara laughed. “We have our whole lives ahead of us, let’s just stay in the present- the present where I love you, and you love me, and nothing else matters.”

The airbender grinned with her, pressing his forehead gently to hers.

“I like the sound of that. Thank you, sweetie. For listening, for the reassurance, just everything. It means a lot.”

“Of course, sweetie. I’m always here.”

Katara pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck as Aang returned it, pulling her closer to him. They broke apart after a few seconds and grinned like idiots at one another. There was silence, but it was comfortable. The two didn’t need words, they were just enjoying being with each other.

“It’s getting late,” the waterbender murmured after some time. “We should probably go to bed.”

“Probably,” Aang whispered back, unable to take his eyes off the angel in front of him. With a flick of his wrist, he put out the candles that had been lighting up the room and settled into his pillow as Katara drew closer to him and interlocked their fingers.

“Good night, Aang. Love you,” she said, beginning to drift off to the dream realm.

“Love you too, Tara,” the airbender yawned. “Sweet dreams.”

One year later…

“Happy birthday!” the room chorused as Aang blew out all his 15 candles.

The airbender grinned and began to cut the apple cake- an ancient recipe of the Air Nomads recreated by some of the top chefs in the Fire Nation as a gift from Zuko.

“Thanks guys!” Aang laughed. “Man, it’s crazy to think that the war has been over for a little more than two years now.”

Katara smiled and leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“We’ve all done a lot of growing up. We’re older, more mature-” she gave Aang a quick look from head to toe. “ Taller .”

He chuckled, pulling her close to him and peppering kisses all over the top of her head. She was right, of course- as if triggered by their conversation that night, Aang had grown rapidly over the next year. A month later he was the same height as her, two months following he was comfortably able to rest his arm on her shoulder, and now, a year later, he towered above her with her eyebrows barely at his chin.

“Ugh,” Sokka groaned. “Give it a rest you two. The oogies are out of control! Spirits, you act like a newly wedded couple still in the honeymoon stage half the time.”

“Oh, leave them alone, Sokka,” Suki chided. “It’s his birthday! Let’s give the lovebirds some alone time. They’re just kids, they’re nowhere near that yet.”

“Yeah, haha, absolutely not,” Aang nervously laughed as the other couple exited the room. The stone pendant in his pocket began to feel like poisonous lead weighing down his vision for the hopefully not-so-distant future.

“You never know,”  the airbender heard Katara mumble, so quiet he wasn’t even sure she had actually said it. “Sometimes things will come when you least expect it.”

He stood there blankly for a moment, brain struggling to process her words and had just opened his mouth to ask her what she meant (she couldn’t possibly be talking about what he thought she was… right?) when she decided to speak up instead.

“I can’t believe you were ever nervous about staying short, sweetie,” Katara quipped, her eyebrows raised teasingly.

Aang merely blinked at the subject change, promptly concluding that the last thirty seconds were simply a figment of his imagination, and sheepishly scratched the back of his head in response to her comment.

“I guess it was kinda silly, huh,” he laughed. “Look at us now.”

The waterbender pouted, going up on the balls of her feet and craning her neck to gaze up at him. “You’re too tall for your own good. I miss when you were shorter and I didn’t have to tilt my head every time just to look at you.”

“Oh c’mon, it has its benefits.”

He gave her a quick look to warn her for what he was about to do, and with one swift motion, Katara was suddenly off the ground and in Aang’s arms bridal-style, her arms around his neck and their gazes interlocked.

The airbender touched their foreheads together and gave her a cheesy grin.

“I couldn’t do this before, now could I?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at her.

“No,” Katara smiled, her head tilted as she looked at him endearingly, “I suppose you couldn’t. And I certainly won’t be one to complain about you holding me more often.”

Aang laughed and carefully set her back down, hearing the growing volume of the room next to them. He quickly grabbed the two full glasses on the table and handed one to the waterbender.

“Here’s to hoping you’re the one who grows by next year so my neck isn’t always sore from looking down at you,” he said as he held his drink up.

Katara gave him a dry stare before rolling her eyes and smiling.

“Cheers.”

The two clinked their glasses and turned to face the door behind which the rest of their friends had already begun to celebrate.

“Shall we?” Aang asked as he held out his arm to her.

“We shall,” Katara responded, accepting it. “Happy birthday, Aang.”

[aestheticsfandomsandmore]

In vino (beer) veritas

HE TIAN X MO GUAN SHAN FAN FIC.

Don't expect too much, really: I’m Italian, so I probably made a lot of mistakes (you can report them, I would be glad). There are few descriptions for the same reason and so this story could be a bit repetitive. There is not a proper ending. Maybe I’ll just leave it like this, maybe I’ll continue the fic some other day.

I posted it on AO3 if you want to read it there.

________________________________________

Mo Guan Shan hasn't heard from He Tian since the previous evening. Almost twenty hours have passed and he hasn't come to school. He's a bit worried, if he has to be honest with himself. The damn guy hasn't even texted to annoy him with random stuff, while he usually doesn't let him breath without interfering.

So Mo goes to his house. He's embarrassed, he's mad at himself for his dumb choice, he has no idea how to justify that choice to He Tian, especially when he's so damn sure the guy will give him a smirk and start assuming things, like that he cares about him. Whether it is true or not, Mo would always deny it until the end of times.

Still, the door of his loft is right there in front of him and he knocks, hoping for an answer so that he can stop worrying for that asshole.

However, the moment He Tian opens it, he only worries more and more.

The tall boy, always so handsome, with fucking perfect hair and fancy clothes, is now looking like he just jumped out of a hurricane: his shirt is wrinkled, the zip of his jeans is down (don't look, don't look, don't look), his dark hair are disheveled and his eyes are red and wide open.

“Ehy little Mo~ Wha-What ya doing here?” he asks him, so visibly confused that Mo wouldn't be surprised if he just fainted, right where he was.

“Stupid, what... what are you up to, what's goin' on?”

“Little Mo is worried about me?” even in that state he still manages to grin and to sound annoying.

“Move” Mo orders and the moment he gets in the loft he feels a bit shocked: a bunch of empty bottles of beer (at least five or six) are lying on the floor. He Tian is drunk. He turns back and looks at him. “Ohi, what is all of this about?”

He Tian closes the door and chaoticly walks toward the table before sitting on a chair. He laughs. “What do you mean?”

Is he fucking with me or what? Mo thinks, almost getting agry. “Why did you drink so much? Are you okay?”

“Suuure thing.”

Mo sighs. How much patience must he have with this guy?

“Okay. Let’s go to bed, shall we?” Mo Guan Shan reminds himself of how the doctors spoke to him when he happened to be in a hospital: like the things he was about to do were going to be a group thing or shit like that. He tries the same with He Tian, hoping it will work.

He Tian lets Mo putting his arm under his own armpit and then puts his around his neck, but it’s more like he’s grabbing it, like he’s trying to hold on to him.

“Okay, we’re moving.” Mo says and meanwhile counts more carefully the bottles of beer the idiot has drunk: eight. Eight fucking bottles. What the hell was wrong with him?

He carries He Tian to his bedroom and puts him under his sheets, but the right moment he tries to walk away the other boy clutches his wrists and pushes him to the bed as well.

“Ohi, the fuck-”

“Stay here for a while, c’mon~ You came all the way to my flat juuuust...” he seems to be struggling with making a coherent phrase. “... just to leave immediately?”

He can’t really say he is wrong, but he doesn’t want to stay either. “You’re wasted. I didn’t certainly come to babysit you.”

“You don’t have... to do... anything... just stay.”

He looks so weak and vulnerable, so different from his usual self.

He won’t remember anything anyway tomorrow, Mo thinks. “Whatever.”

He stays. He lays down on his right side and stares at He Tian. His eyes are closed but he is smiling. “Nice” he says, clearly happy he is going to stay.

“Why... why were you drinking so much?”

He Tian doesn’t answer. Mo almost thinks he fell asleep, but then he says: “I really want to kiss you.”

Mo winces. “What the bloody hell-”

“I won’t kiss you. Don’t you worry.” He Tian promises, his eyes still closed.

“Of course you won’t you chicken-”

“I don’t want you to cry again.”

Mo baffles. His heart starts ricing faster and faster. “What...?”

He Tian opens his eyes and looks at him with no smile of any sort. “You freaked out last time I kissed you.”

Mo blushes and gets furious. “Yeah - and whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” He Tian answers immediately. “I know it’s mine. I- I know.”

“Good.” Guan Shan says, but he’s actually pretty surprised He Tian admitted it so easily. He expected him to mock him and start making jokes about how he reacted back then. 

They stay silent for a while. Then He Tian asks: “Am I... still... disgusting to you?” His voice is so low and depressed Mo could almost burst into tears.

“I-” he swallows, super nervous. That was uncertain territory for him. Such honesty from He Tian demanded just as much from him as well. “No. You are not.”

He Tian looks relieved. “Really?”

“Yeah. Actually... you never were.”

Now he looks shocked. “You didn’t mean it?”

“I meant it when I said it” Mo replies. “I was fucking infuriated, He Tian.” Now he’s getting angry again, just by the thought of that moment. He felt so ashamed he just wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth. “But... I never really thought you were a disgusting person, I just thought you did a disgusting thing.”

“I get that” He Tian says. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have forced you. Sorry.”

An apology, Mo thinks. He Tian apologised before, but always with a smart smirk on his face or his hands on Mo’s body - never sounded very convincing. Now he is talking from the bottom of his heart and Mo believes him. “Okay. Apologies accepted.”

He Tian smiles. 

Mo smiles as well. He won’t remember any of this. He caresses his cheek with his thumb and He Tian shudders, almost as he punched him in the face. He stops immediatly, realizing what he was doing. “Okay. Now get some sleep, idiot.”

“Will you wait for me to fall asleep?”

He sounds like a kid. He was never good with kids. Way easier to go along with their insanity rather than question it. “Whatever. Now sleep.”

-

The morning after, the hangover is right there waiting for him to wake up in the most embarrassing way possible. His knees are pushing against his arms, his toes are crisscrossed, he smells like shit and he probably looks even worst. But none of this matters the moment he understands Mo is sleeping right next to him. 

His first thought is that he’s still dreaming. It has to be a dream. Mo never stayed over the night and even if he managed to make him do that Mo would have never slept in his bed. Too risky. 

But it takes him just a few moments to realize he’s not dreaming at all. He gets up, way too quickly - his head hurts. “Shit”. He goes to the bathroom and takes a cold shower. He wears something clean and takes his time to get back in the bedroom, scared that he just imagined things and he won’t find Mo in his sheets just where he left him. But he does. He’s still there. 

He Tian smiles and takes a moment to appreciate that scenario, wishing it would happen again and again, every morning, preferably after a night of rough sex and sweet cuddles. Or just sex. Or just cuddles. Anything, literally anything to have Little Mo in his bed as often as possible.

“Ehy, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine~” he pats his head and ruffles his hair, foreshadowing a bad reaction coming from the boy. 

It comes. Guan Shan slaps his hand and gets up, a bit uncomfortable, and then rubs his eyes, still sleepy. “’Morning dick head.”

He Tian grins. “Is there an actual explanation for which you slept in my bed? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I see you went back to yourself” Mo replies, annoyed. 

He Tian doesn’t say anything. Went back to himself? What did that mean? “Uhm... what?” he asks, trying to sound entertained. 

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Okay, now he’s feeling a bit scared. What did he do? What did he say? “What should I remember? Did we have fun last night?”

“If you find funny getting wasted and unable to walk on your own towards your fucking bedroom, then yes, it was massive fun.”

He Tian laughs. He expected way worst. “Okay, so you took care of me, Little Mo~?” 

He draws closer to him, but Mo stops his approach by grabbing his wrists and says: “I didn’t plan to stay the night, but since I did... I guess we should talk.”

Talk? Like, a proper chat? Offered by Mo? Was the world about to end? “Uhm, okay? What do you want to talk about? Our future together?”

“Can you be serious for one fucking second?”

He Tian blinks. What the fuck happened last night? “Sure.”

He lays down on the bed waiting for Mo Guan Shan to do the same. He stares at him and then sits. “I- I have some questions for you. And then, if you have any questions... for me... I’ll answer. I mean, I’ll try, at least.”

He is palpably nervous and the way he’s speaking is a total surprise: things like that never happen between the two of them; it’s always He Tian the one who brings up more weighty topics for them to discuss. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Last night you told me...” Mo lowers his head, “that you’d like to kiss me.” He blushes.

He Tian is not surprised at all. “Well, is that a brand new information for you?”

“Cut the sarcastic crap out, thanks.” 

“I’m not being sarcastic! I mean it: was it honestly shocking for you?”

Mo still doesn’t look at him in the eye, but he shakes his head. 

“So what’s the question?”

“I was going to ask you if that were true, since you were drank, but apparently it was.”

“Yeah. What else?”

“You also told me that you won’t kiss me, even if you want to, because you’re... basically scared of my reaction. Is this true?”

Okay, he didn’t see this coming. “I-” he needs to think before answering. “I... kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“It’s just- I want to be sure you want that too.” He really means that. He never said that aloud. He never admitted that truth to himself. Heʼs waiting for someone’s permission to do what he wants. It is a weird and new concept for him. He knows that, being a kiss something that involves two people, it should just be normal to ask before doing anything. But he isn’t used to, anyway. 

“You never seemed particularly interested in what I wanted.”

Now, that sentence gets him mad. “Look at me.” he orders.

Mo does that and he looks more confident than ever. He’s almost proud to see him like that.

“What’s the point of this?”

“Wait. I have another question.”

He Tian rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“You apologised. For what you did. And... you asked me if I still thought you were disgusting.”

He Tian would blush if he wasn’t the way he is. “And what did you answer?”

“I- Wait, did you mean it?”

“Uhm?”

“Do you actually feel sorry for what you did?”

“I apologised to you when I was sober as well, did you forget?”

“You never apologised for something specific.”

He Tian is getting impatient, but he still says: “I’m not sorry to have kissed you, I’m sorry I made you cry.”

That answer makes Mo mad - well, of course it does. “I cried because you kissed me. Because you’re a piece of shit.”

“Call me what you want” he is getting heated as well, “but you didn’t cry because I kissed you: you cried because I didn’t ask you and you were surprised and you didn’t want to accept that you liked me. You still don’t, by the way.”

Mo tries to punch him but He Tian’s faster and blocks him right away, switching positions and standing onto him on the bed. 

“You have no idea what’s going on inside my head! You shit head, you have no right to tell me why I was crying!” 

Mo screams, trying to free himself, but He Tian is holding his wrists with his hand and impeding his movements with his legs. 

“Okay, hey, chill, calm down, please.”

It takes a while for Mo to actually stop moving. He grumbles and bites his lips. He Tian lets go of his right wrist to make him stop, touching his mouth very gently. “Don’t ruin it” he whispers. 

Mo blushes and turns his head. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that - I’m sorry.”

Mo blinks and looks at him doubtful and hesitant. 

“But now let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot it.”

“Why are you doing this? You could have just made up an excuse for staying here the night, as always, relying on the fact that I forgot everything. Why didn’t you?”

Mo observed him for a while and then said: “I- I wanted to know the truth.”

“The truth?“

“Yeah.”

“Little Mo, you asked him if I wanted to kiss you, which you already know I do, you asked me if I was sorry, which I had already said I am, and you wanted me to confirm a sentence which I pronounced when I was drunk - and so, completely honest.” 

Mo looks pissed. “Listen, it wasn’t all this clear to me when I decided to talk to you, okay? You don’t have to play Mister I know-it-all, you’re already annoying enough.”

He Tian laughs. “Whatever.” He lets go of the other wrist and moves his legs away, still remaining on top of him. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

Mo seems confused. “Which one?”

“Am I still disgusting to you?” he asks this with a tiny grin, but he’s actually desperate for an honest answer. He knows Mo doesn’t find him disgusting, but to hear him saying it is a totally different story.

Guan Shan snorts. “No, you are not. Happy now?”

He Tian smiles. “Very.”

“Asshole.”

They stay like this for some time. He Tian is almost leaning towards his lips, when Mo interrupts the silence. “Oh, right! Why the fuck did you drink eight bottles of beer?”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Welcome Home, Kauri

@gottalovethemwriters (won’t let me tag you!) requested:  I know Kauri said he’d be there when Jake wakes up but could we have a drabble or snippet -or whatever you want, honestly- where Kauri wakes up and has to convince himself it’s okay to stay? please?

CW: Domestic abuse survivor navigating trust and relationships, some trauma response, PTSD references, referenced consensual spice

Jake is still asleep when Kauri slides out of bed.

After years of finding his way into apartments and bedrooms and basements next to a series of men he can barely remember, whose names slip off his tongue like oil or stick like ash or just don’t stay at all, Kauri is an expert at getting out of bed without waking the other people in it up.

He inches along the cool sheets and he doesn’t allow himself to look back until he’s out, pulling on his pants from the night before, tossed haphazardly with laughter. There’s an ache in him, sweet and slight, the stretched muscles of a night spent moving, laughing, arching his back and wrapping his legs around Jake’s waist, hands on either side of the other man’s face. His fingers twitch at the memory of Jake’s stubble scratchy against his palms, his cheek, his lips.

He can still hear it, still feel Jake’s hands sliding along the outsides of his thighs, shifting up to his hips, murmuring things in his ear in that low, deep voice that the really tall guys get sometimes.

He looks back, once his pants are on. 

He gives himself a moment to love the ache, and mourn walking away from the promise he knows neither of them can keep.

Jake sleeps on his side, sprawled in the bed - king size, the one thing he told Kauri he couldn’t say no to when it was his own house, because he was six-foot-three and slept with his feet hanging off the edge of a bed his whole life since he was thirteen and he didn’t have to do that anymore, so he wasn’t about to - and the stress around his eyes and mouth drops away when he sleeps. Mussed-up blond hair and the line of his jaw catch Kauri’s breath in his throat.

The sight makes him forget, briefly, why he’s out of the bed at all.

I won’t be gone when you wake up.

He remembers.

“Sorry,” He whispers, too low-pitched to ever wake Jake up. He told Jake not to trust him - he’s told him a hundred times. Kauri can’t be trusted, he’s running from something inside of himself, and you can’t outrun your own emptiness. It follows you through every bus stop, every bad night spent sleeping on a bathroom floor or a park bench. It finds him through all the drinks and all the times he’s let himself be pushed up against the wall and taken, rough, and left limping to find the next direction to run.

He can’t run far enough to get away from this.

And Jake should have known better than to believe Kauri would be here, like he said. Everyone should know better than to believe Kauri’s promises.

He doesn’t believe them himself.

It’s with a burst of anxiety that he slides on his shirt, scratching lightly at the inside of his left wrist, digging into scars he wants to cover up with ink someday, maybe, but just… just can’t bring himself to do it. He’s had to hold still for too many needles, in his life. 

Jake breathes, heavy and solid, and there’s a gravitational pull to that breathing, to the promise that if he gets back in bed, Jake will shift, and lay his arm over Kauri’s waist, pull him close, and that deep breath would shift the hair on the back of Kauri’s neck and send shivers down his spine. Kauri feels like he could circle Jake’s light.

It would be safe, wouldn’t it?

He could be safe, here.

But he’ll just hurt everyone, in the end, when the ugly inside of him finds its way out. If he doesn’t stay, that means he’s never here long enough to let his guard down, and they’ll never see him long enough to see what happens if he does.

If he doesn’t stay, Jake won’t see the emptiness inside him, the white light and cold walls and 162 tiles and roses and champagne and you’re so fucking lucky anyone ever loved you that chase him, and chase him, and never stop.

Anxiety turns to fear, bald-faced and laid hideously bare in the early morning pinkish-light cutting through the blinds, as Kauri turns the doorknob slowly, silently, and slips out of the room. He’s a coward for not trying to stay.

He’s exhausted by running.

He can’t stop.

He pads barefoot down the hallway, shoulders hunched. Antoni sleeps in this room, he thinks, letting his fingers graze over the roughened texture of the old wood, to the smooth frame around the door. If he knocked on the door, Antoni would wake up and let him in, and help him remember how to stay.

He doesn’t knock. He keeps moving.

The floor would creak, but Kauri knows how to avoid all the noisy spots. He’s done this a hundred times, two hundred, a thousand. Stay with someone, get up while they’re sleeping, sneak out the front door, and be gone before they wake up.

No one has to miss him.

No one ever does.

Right?

His backpack waits, next to his shoes, and he slides it on over his shoulders, humming in a half-whisper to Keira’s murmured greeting from inside. She’s all he really needs. She’s not dangerous, she won’t lock the doors, she won’t depend on him in ways he can’t possibly reciprocate. 

He can’t be trusted, and Keira knows that. She’s been with him through every step, since Owen brought her home the first time in her big awkward box, since he named her, since the night Owen nearly killed him and broke her in ways that let her thoughts expand in ways they never could before. 

Breakfast locations near me? Keira asks in her faintly metallic, feminine voice, muffled from inside the backpack. 

“No,” Kauri whispers. “No breakfast. Let’s just go.”

Sensors indicate Kauri negative emotion feeling. Kauri reassurance require?

He moves out the door, sets the lock so it will click into place behind him, and closes the door. For a moment, he just stares straight ahead, at the nice little street, the sweet little neighborhood, the world that Jake lives in that is so far removed from what Kauri’s life has been. Run-down houses with cared-for yards, tricycles left out on sidewalks and in driveways, chalk drawings littering the world around him.

He hops down the stairs and starts walking. 

“No,” Kauri repeats.

Kauri reassurance require. Keira’s voice is firm. Keira reassurance provide. Kauri good.

“Kauri’s not good.”

Kauri good.

“I told him I’d stay and I’m leaving. He should have known better than to believe me.” The sky is blue only around the edges, and mostly dark still overhead. He can see the last stars as the light of the sun begins to slowly overcome the colder, smaller light they send. He remembers, vaguely, that stars are photographs of already-dead things, sometimes.

He’s a photograph of a dead man, too.

“It is common for survivors of long-term domestic abuse to be afraid to enter into new relationships”-

“Don’t fucking quote Triumph at me again,” Kauri snaps, and then feels guilt, nauseous and heavy. “I’m sorry, Keira. I just-”

Want to go back.

He ignores her, now, and walks faster away from the house, from Jake, from the promise of safety he has never been able to trust. There isn’t anything safe about staying in one place, giving yourself up to be hurt again. There isn’t anything safe about staying.

“I told him. I told him not to trust me. I told him. I said you can’t, you can’t trust me to stay, you can never trust me to stay I won’t stay. I’ll run, I always run, because I can’t-... I can’t do anything else. He knows that, I told him I can’t stay.”

But he’d promised to try, the night before, weeks ago, he keeps promising to try and letting people down. That’s what he’s good at, after all. Letting people down.

Running when they want him to stay.

Disappearing when they need someone to rely on.

Sleeping on park benches just to prove a point, to himself if no one else, or to Owen, who he hasn’t seen in years and won’t ever have to see again, right? But still he wants to show Owen that he doesn’t have to stay in one place, that he can keep running and running and if he just keeps running, Owen won’t ever hunt him down, not even inside his own mind.

One block becomes two, and then three. A few hundred feet becomes a quarter-mile, and then half. He stops at a bus stop, standing a few feet away from the little covered shelter area, where a tired-looking older woman is already sitting with a thermos of coffee and a small service dog in a vest lying calmly at her feet. If she looks at Kauri, he doesn’t look back at her.

Just another young man running from whatever he’d done the night before, wearing the clothes he was wearing then, with his hair mussed and sticking out or pushed down. Just another dumbass who partied too hard and lived to regret it, right?

I want to stay, Kauri remembers himself saying, and closes his eyes against the hot rush of tears that hits, unbidden, unwanted. He’d said that. He’d told Jake he wanted to stay, and it was true, but if he stays they’ll see how little there is inside of him. How carved-out he is, how empty.

Bus arrival approximately nine minutes from now, Keira says from inside the backpack. The woman sitting in the bus shelter looks over at him and raises her eyebrow.

“Fitbit,” Kauri says automatically, and she makes a noise that could mean bullshit or could mean she believes him, and goes back to drinking her coffee.

He thinks again of Jake sleeping, sprawled out, long limbs and muscled shoulders. The way his face has changed, as Kauri has known him, losing the last vestiges of roundness from being young and gone more angular. The line of his jaw has sharpened with time, just like Kauri’s.

He doesn’t realize he’s lifted his own hand to his face, feeling the spot where jaw and neck meet, the flutter of his pulse underneath it.

Last night he had felt Jake’s heart beating fast, pressed a palm over it, pressed his ear there just to listen.

Kauri heartrate accelerate, Keira provides helpfully.

“Shut up,” He mutters.

The woman doesn’t look over this time. Probably safer to ignore the guy talking to his Fitbit first thing in the morning, right?

Kauri stands there, minutes ticking by, and just as he sees the bus turning the corner at the end of the block, he shifts just enough of his weight from one foot to another to feel the ache inside him, as much emotional as physical. The ache of a night spent with someone who would rather die than hurt him, a night spent wrapped in arms that would - could - keep him safe.

The ache of a loneliness Kauri is tired of carrying, the rock he wants to put down more than anything on earth.

He turns and starts to walk away, listening to the rumbling engine as the bus pulls up to the stop, but he doesn’t go back and climb on. It would be old habit, to curl up in one of the seats ignoring mysterious stains and close his eyes, try to catch a little more sleep, before he gets out a few stops from now.

It’s easy to keep living the way he’s been living.

It’s harder to make the choice to stop.

Kauri heartrate accelerate.

“I know,” He whispers. His steps go faster, and faster, and then walking turns to running, his backpack smacking into his lower back. He ignores the flare of the ache inside him - or rather he holds onto it as tightly as he can, to the memory of laughing and lips on his neck and someone who wanted to look him right in the eyes the whole time because someone needs to show you you’re gorgeous, you never believe me when I tell you, I have to show you I never want to look away.

The slap of his shoes on the pavement is familiar but it’s not, too, it’s entirely new.

Kauri has been running from the tiny white room inside his mind, from hands around his neck, from a love that wasn’t, for too many years. He knows how to run from things, it’s a pattern he carries deep inside him.

What’s new isn’t the running - it’s that he’s not running away this time.

What’s new isn’t the movement of muscles, the soft sound of his jeans, the wind in his hair drying the tears in his eyes. What’s new isn’t a half-mile becoming a quarter-mile becoming a few blocks becoming one more turn around a corner and then a couple more blocks-

What’s new is the man he can see waiting for him, on the lawn, when he turns. Small as a finger, from the distance, but that doesn’t matter. Small in the distance, large in his mind, under his hands, in his heart.

Kauri stumbles to a stop, catching his breath, staring. 

At the end of two blocks, Jake is sitting out on a lawn chair in front of his house, and there’s another chair next to him, and it hits Kauri like a brick to the back that the extra chair is for him.

“I want to stay,” Kauri whispers, lips barely moving to form the words.

Kauri good, Keira says. Kauri good. Kauri good. 

“Go home,” Kauri tells himself. For a moment, a horrible awful dizzy second, his feet don’t move. “Go home, Kauri. Go home.”

Kauri go home, Keira supplies.

He starts running again. 

Jake looks up when Kauri comes to a breathless stop in front of him. He’s still wrecked from sleep, his hair looks ridiculous, and his blue eyes are sparkling as he gestures to the chair. He’s wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and a red t-shirt, and he’s never looked better, in Kauri’s eyes, than he does sleep-shadowed and touched by early morning sun. 

“H-hey.” Kauri’s voice is breathless.

“Hey,” Jake answers, sipping his coffee from a deep blue mug he bought a few weeks ago, at a farmer’s market. Kauri was with him. Kauri picked out the mug.

There’s another one, pale with milk and sugar how Kauri likes it, settled on the sidewalk in front of the second chair.

“Door’s open,” Jake says, voice low, deep and soft. He doesn’t ask Kauri why he tried to run, or why he stopped, what brought him back. “I made coffee for you.”

“You… you were awake when I left.”

“Yeah.” Jake gives him a slight smile. “I told you - I’ll never stop you when you have to go.”

“But?” Say it again. Say what you said last night. Please, please, please say it again.

“But,” Jake says, and holds out his free hand, “The door will always be unlocked, for you, Kauri. I’ll always be waiting to let you back in.”

Kauri takes Jake’s hand in his, his long, thin fingers interlacing with Jake’s. He slides the backpack off his shoulder, lets it fall, gently to protect Keira inside, to the ground. Kauri good, Keira says, voice a little hushed. If she were human, it might be a whisper. Jakob Stanton reassurance provide. Kauri good.

“Kauri good,” Jake agrees, and Kauri moves to him like falling into orbit around a sun. “She’s right. You’re good, Kaur. You’ve always been good.”

“How did you know I’d come back?” 

“I didn’t.” Jake grins, flashes slightly crooked teeth, evidence of a childhood where money for braces was never an option. His nose is a little crooked, too, evidence of having it broken more than once. It’s all a part of him, and it’s all perfect. “I hoped, but… mostly, I just didn’t mind risking looking like a fucking idiot out here in two lawn chairs by myself, for you.”

Kauri laughs, and the tears in his eyes are part of the laughter now, as Jake sets down his mug to pull him close, arms around his waist, resting his head against Kauri, cheek pressed to his stomach. 

Kauri heartrate accelerate. Kauri go home.

“Kauri go home,” Kauri repeats, placing his hand on top of Jake’s head, running fingers through the mussed-up blond, sliding his palm down to cup the back of his head, fingers just brushing the nape of Jake’s neck. “That’s what I did.”

“Welcome home,” Jake says, eyes closed. “Welcome home, Kauri.”

“Welcome home, me,” Kauri whispers. Fear shivers over his skin, the hint of a memory of hands around his neck, locked doors, and pain. He lets it happen, doesn’t run from the memory this time, doesn’t try to chase it off. Just... lets it be there, and then feels the fear fade under the determination he’s made to stop running. “Welcome... welcome home.”

“Right. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold and ruins my big romantic gesture.”

Kauri laughs loud enough to start a dog barking halfway down the block.

---

Tagging Kauri’s crew:  @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV, so i’m going to put the second person POV under the cut here, and make a separate post with the other version so folks can read which they prefer. nothing is different between the two besides the POV !

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Contrary to what the four crazy people you spent your time risking your life for nowadays thought, you didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to your jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made your ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. You were an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-you, or perhaps the you-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard you had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of your mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, you didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, you could get out of bed. Your head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in your best interests to swing your twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push yourself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to your best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let you forget it and the scar on your hip that put a hitch in your giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those you sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today your hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to your mid-forearm, settled into you all familiar-like and made its home in you.

In the bathroom, you used your wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck your mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. Your morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for your post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took you longer to shimmy on the sweats you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made you appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until you were face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, you put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing your grip. A light flex had you drawing it back like the metal had burned you, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. You took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge your hand between the handle and the door so you could open the fridge with your elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind your collarbone faded quickly as you scanned its contents and realized there was nothing you wanted to eat, or at least nothing you wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to your throat, and you slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw yourself down, cradling your hands in your lap.

You knew the drill: in an hour, you would grit your teeth and get to up to try and fumble open your bottle of painkillers, and if you succeeded, you would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so you could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone you had left on your nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as your ringtone and you hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so you ignored it. Your ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from your clenched teeth as you levered yourself up to get to it as fast as you could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between your shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

You rubbed your eyes with your wrist, frustrated that you had forgotten you were supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in your mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

You snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before you could open your mouth, your doorbell rang, drawing a groan from you. If you were correct about who the “we” was, it seemed stupid to even ring it. Your suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. You had already moved back to the couch, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” you growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” you muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through your snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. You made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When you next opened your eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on your coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in your lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Your first instinct was to deflect. You trusted your team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that you had these days. That you weren’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before you could tell him just what you thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of your face, the thief reaching down to poke one of your hands faster than you could stop her.

By the time you were able to refocus and pull yourself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at you with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. You think you may have howled; you weren’t sure. Both your hands were clenched tightly to your chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. You felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on you. You summoned the anger from your throat, the only weapon at your disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at you, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” You turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

You looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on you and let you wallow by yourself. You wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den you had accidentally put your foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning you an earful of hissing that scared the hell out of you. You wonder if you seemed as belligerent now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in your space to let you feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

You didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of you. It was yours to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at your hands. He hummed at your slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” you mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at your growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

You looked him in the eye for the sincerity you already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of your favorite traits of his. Hesitantly, you extended your hands, rolling your eyes at him scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, you took the medication from her fingers with your teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to your lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” you managed, once you had your breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while you were distracted trying to find the right response to that, that you wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted you to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to your forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. You froze, and he did too, meeting your eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At your tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on your arm, rubbing circles so lightly that you almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down your forearm. When he got to your wrist, you couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through your nose, high and strained. He moved away from it immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” you grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before you could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of your forearm. You breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” he said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Your thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that you didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of you that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over your head until your pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. You didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, it might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of you murmured. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been offered something like this, let alone the last time you had taken the person up. If there was anyone you trusted to do it, if there was anyone you wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could you refuse them even when your heart hoped so badly for what they were offering?

“Sure, just…” you said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on you. You licked your lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will be,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under your hands, resting on his knees. You tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above your head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in your hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to your forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through your hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. You winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” you grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed your scalp. Your breath stuttered again as Hardison hands started working towards the sore meat of your wrist. Your hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. You cracked open an eye to see him looking between your hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” you gritted out, doing a poor job of masking your genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

He tapped his index finger against your arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through your hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts you had, your mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, you insistently pushed your head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in your chest, leaving you longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left your throat as Hardison probed the bottom of your palm, the ache drawing you back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry, you still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to yours again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in your hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching your scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on your hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. You don’t know how long you sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched you, fixated on the single task of caring for you. The thought made the tender space behind your breastbone twinge. When you surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. You grunted, lifting your head from the couch to look at them sitting beside you, grinning at your movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in yours, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

You looked down to your hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other you tightened your fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving your thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” you simply said back, a real smile rising to your lips.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Chaos

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes are not friends. You’re partners who put up with each other, whose styles on the field clash constantly. One mission leads to a moment of vulnerability 

Features: Angst; Brief mentions of violence, mentions of past human experimentation and unknown medical issues

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: This is my late submission for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​‘s Hamifilm Lyric challenge. Time got away from me, between my dissertation and starting a new job. I’m not entirely happy with how this turned out, but it still ended up running away from me.

My prompt was chaos and bloodshed are not a solution 

Word Count: 2984

You were itching for a change. You had been cooped up in the compound for far too long after your last mission. You had broken your wrist on your last outing and had gotten shot. You had only just been cleared. It hadn’t been your fault, but Barnes would argue otherwise.You and Bucky Barnes didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t friends. You worked well together in the field, all things considered. It was why the two of you were constantly paired together. 

He had been livid after your last mission. The silence on the way back to the compound had spoken volumes. The two of you had brought Peter Parker out into the field for what was supposed to be a training mission, a low level one that was supposed to have minimal danger. The key words there were supposed to. Things had gone south the second the three of you entered the building. 

Your wrist had ended up broken after you pushed Peter to the ground when you dove in front of him. The lone operative you had yet to find had taken aim at the teenager. You took the shot for him and Barnes took out the operative. Unlike Barnes and Peter, you didn’t have a healing factor. The shot had been dangerously close to striking something vital, but hadn’t. Barnes had been able to stitch you up on the quinjet and gave you the silent treatment all the while.

It hadn’t been until later that night that the two of you got into it. Words had flown recklessly, and you were both dangerously close to crossing the point of no return with them. Steve had had to intervene to get the two of you to calm down. 

You found yourself sitting by the window, watching the snow fall outside. You had made yourself a cup of hot chocolate, fully intending to enjoy the day off from training. Even with your injury, you had still been responsible to train, doing what you could without agitating your wrist. You had finally been cleared to return to full active duty that morning, six weeks after the mission that had ended in disaster. 

You groaned when FRIDAY told you your presence was required in one of the conference rooms. So much for a relaxing Saturday morning. 

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The mission briefing devolved quickly into an argument between you and Barnes. The two of you were put as the point people on the mission, and you had different views on how to handle it. You preferred the guns blazing approach. Loud and brash was your style when dealing with the kind of people the mission involved. You had read enough of the brief to know what you were dealing with. You never cared for the nitty gritty details, something that annoyed Barnes to no end. 

“All I’m saying is we storm the place, take out the bad guys and call it a day. Intelligence says there’s only about a dozen or so in the building. It’s a cake walk,” you said, tossing the folder down on the table. Bucky’s expression hardened as he glared at you. You refused to back down. 

“Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution. Not every plan has to end with blood on your hands,” Bucky snapped, his hands hitting the table. You recoiled. You had never seen him have this reaction before. He’d been annoyed before, sometimes a little angry, but he never looked as angry as he did in that moment. You knew he was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give an inch of ground. 

“Then what do you propose, oh Great One. You’ve never been one to be a pacifist before,” you replied. He glared at you. You refused to shrink back under the intensity of his gaze. 

“Did you even read the mission brief fully, Agent? There are children there. No older than Parker. Do you really want that on your hands?” he challenged. He knew you hadn’t read the full brief. You snatched the folder off the table, feeling the blood rush from your face as you saw what you had missed. A sick feeling made itself at home in the pit of your stomach. 

“Okay. We nix the guns blazing approach. But that doesn’t guarantee they won’t hurt them, or worse, use them as human shields against us,” you replied, sitting down in an empty chair, shoulders slumped. You saw his expression soften but ignored it. Now was not the time to get distracted by Barnes. You couldn’t believe you missed that detail. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. 

“We have to do this carefully. If we use the tech to our advantage, we can infiltrate without arousing suspicion,” Natasha offered. You nodded. You ran a hand over your face in frustration before you collected your thoughts, your mind moving a mile a minute as you looked over the maps FRIDAY was projecting. 

“We don’t have many options. Scott, how do you feel about some recon?” you asked. Scott was your best option. You didn’t want to risk anything going wrong. Not now that you knew there were children involved. Scott was good at moving around undetected. 

“I can do that,” he said. You glanced around the room. It was only you, Natasha, Bucky, and Scott in the room. Peter was missing. A frown settled on your face. Parker was supposed to be there. He had been there when you walked in but was no longer there. The four of you and Peter were the only ones at the compound. The others were on other missions and this one had come in urgently. You knew it had been on the radar for a while, but something had changed in the situation that triggered an immediate need for action. 

“Wait...where is Parker?” you asked. It dawned on the others that the teen was no longer in the room. You got your answer when seconds later he all but crashed through the door. 

“Sorry, sorry, Ned called. He’s stuck in Metuchen,” Peter said. Something was off about his tone. All eyes were on him, waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“Where?” Scott asked, confused. You knew where that was. Your mind was racing to put the pieces together as you took in Peter’s tense body language, the nervousness he held. You glanced at the map in front of you, the pieces coming together, before you asked the question you already knew the answer to. 

“Is he in Jersey?” you asked, brow furrowed. You knew in your gut that the kid had done something he shouldn’t have. Metuchen was where the building was you were looking to infiltrate.You saw the moment Bucky realized what you had already pieced together. 

“Peter...why is Ned in Jersey?” Bucky asked. Peter went wide eyed.

“I...well...you see...I have some new prototypes and well...you have to be in close proximity to operate them,” Peter said.

“Peter, please tell me Ned isn’t near that building,” Natasha said. 

“I could tell you that...but it’d be a lie,” Peter said, his voice trailing off. You took a deep breath before meeting Bucky’s eyes. The two of you shared a look, only breaking eye contact when Bucky spoke.

“Wheels up in five. There’s a landing zone we can use not far from where they are,” Bucky said. No one made a move.

“Let’s go people. We don’t have all day. Scott, you’re first in, get us a visual on the kids and Ned if you can,” you said.

“I didn’t say they caught him,” Peter said. You stared him down. Even if he wasn’t still nervous, a by-product of his age and his experience in the field, you knew his tells. Aside from Tony, you were one of his primary mentors. Whether it was fighting tactics or help with his history homework, Peter came to you for a lot of things. He had become your little brother in a way. 

“They caught Ned but they didn’t take his phone,” Peter admitted. A tense silence gripped the room. There was a new sense of urgency. 

“At least it seems like they’re incompetant,” Scott replied, trying to bring some levity to the situation.

“Or they want to draw us in. We need to be cautious,” Natasha said. You knew that Natasha had a point. As sloppy as they had been, there was always the risk that it was a trap. 

“We don’t know what they have. They could still figure it out, still disable any tech we use somehow. We need to be prepared for anything,” Bucky replied, glancing over at you. Everyone stood, ready to head to the jet. 

“FRIDAY, get a location on Ned’s phone. Peter, you need to tell us everything you know,” you said as you began walking out of the room and toward the hangar. 

It didn’t take long for the five of you to reach the landing zone you had designated. It wasn’t a far walk. Peter’s newest invention was a miniaturized drone. You had reviewed the footage with Bucky and Natasha en route to the landing zone. You had to admit, you had an advantage going in with the footage.

“What are you thinking?” Natasha asked.

“We still send Scott in first. Before Ned was taken, seems like the perimeter was insecure. It doesn’t seem like they were waiting for us, and it seems like they were surprised to find Ned,” you said. 

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a trap. Comms stay open. There’s a drainage pipe that leads right into the grounds. We use that as our entry point. Chaos and Parker will use their abilities to get in. Scott, you’re flying,” Bucky said. 

“Wait for your call?” you asked. 

“As soon as I call it you go,” Bucky replied. Your powers allowed you to phase through objects. You likened it to Danny Phantom. You had a heightened healing factor and super strength that came with it. Your other main power involved controlling the elements around you. There was a reason they called you Chaos. 

“Catch you on the other side,” you said as you and Peter split off. It was another ten minutes before Bucky and Natasha reached the entry point from the drainage pipe. Scott had made his way deep into the facility. You were headed right for the children and Ned. You knew there were others spread throughout the building but your priority was getting the innocent ones to safety. Natasha and Bucky would handle taking out others on their way to meet you and Peter. 

“Howdy gentlemen,” you said as you curled your hand, focusing on the task at hand. You and Peter made quick work of taking down those in your way without alerting them to your presence. It was a key to succeeding. You had read more of the file than Bucky gave you credit for. While you had missed the information on the children being held currently, you knew they were brutal when they thought someone was on to them.

“I have eyes on Ned. I don’t think they figured out he was surveilling them,” Scott’s voice came. You and Peter had entered another room, ensuring it was cleared. You saw a stack of folders and nodded your head toward them. 

“What’s this say?” Peter asked.

“It says they’re dead men walking. I thought the last of them were wiped off the earth,” you said your voice low.

“Who are they, Chaos?” he asked. 

“The reason I am the way I am. Hydra weren’t the only ones interested in recreating the serum that made Captain America. They thought children were the key. I should have known it wouldn’t be the end,” you said. It was personal, now. You tore your way through the building as your comms buzzed in your ear. By the time you reached the room where the captives were being held, you could feel the energy crackling around you. You and Peter breached the door. He made quick work of webbing the two men standing guard inside the room as you checked on the children and Ned. You broke the lock on a cabinet, finding a stash of blankets, enough for each of them, if they shared. 

“What happened?” Natasha asked as she and Bucky rounded the corner and entered the room.

“We’ll talk at the debrief. I’ve already gotten in contact with the compound. Dr. Cho is waiting for us with the entire medical staff on standby. FRIDAY will run facial recognition when we get to the jet. There’s a team enroute to secure the rest of the building and take anything we may be interested in,” you said. You were on autopilot. 

It wasn’t until late that night that the five of you gathered in the meeting room to debrief. You were still on edge.

“What the hell happened there? I thought we agreed to limit the bloodshed as much as possible. You want to tell me why Abrams is telling me there was a trail of destruction in your wake?” Bucky asked. 

“Because it’s the same organization that did this to me. The same organization that stole my childhood to try to re-create Steve. I’ll admit, I lost control. But you would have too, Barnes,” you said. 

“I didn’t realize,” he started to say before you cut him off.

“Neither did I. I thought we wiped them out years ago. Turns out we were wrong. We just drove them deeper underground instead,” you said. The rest of the debrief was uneventful. Your reports were due in forty-eight hours, though you knew yours would be done by morning. You hated dwelling on things. 

You found yourself making a cup of hot chocolate, extra marshmallows and whipped cream, before heading to the balcony that was just off of the Avengers living area. It was a post mission routine, one that helped you get out of the headspace that came with missions. The night had a slight chill to it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You heard the door slide open a short time later. You could tell by the footsteps who it was.

“Thought I’d find you out here. You did good today,” Bucky said, sitting down in the seat beside you.

“I thought you said chaos and bloodshed were not a solution?” you asked, lowering your voice to mimic him. He cracked a smile before laughing with you joining in.

“It wasn’t. Not for entering the building. Chaos and bloodshed have a time and a place,” he replied. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you sipped on your hot chocolate, looking up at the sky. You were scanning the night sky for any constellations you could identify. 

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky asked. You glanced over at him.

“You ever think about how in the grand scheme of things, we’re just specks of dust floating through space? There’s worlds out there we know nothing about. And in a second, that can just disappear and the universe just moves on,” you said. 

“Where’s this coming from?” he asked. You sighed. 

“How much do you know about how I came to join the team?” you asked him. You weren’t sure you had ever talked to him about it. The relationship between the two of you was frosty, sometimes cordial, sometimes filled with angst and anger. You couldn’t recall ever having a heart to heart with him.

“I know this group we took out today had a role in you becoming who you are,” he said. 

“They told my parents they could fix me. I was sick when I was a kid...not sick, more of a medical mystery. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. MRIs, x-rays, blood tests. They ran the gamut of tests and nothing came of it. Until Dr. Westerly. Dr. Westerly came a long, had this test she could run. She told my parents the condition I had had no name but I was a perfect candidate for a clinical trial. They were desperate. It took my parents a month to realize something was wrong. I was injected with something that gave me powers. When Westerly caught on that they were suspecting something, she took me and fled. Six months. She had me for six months, running tests. SHIELD found me and brought me home. More specifically, Fury,” you explained.

“How known was this to SHIELD?” he asked.

“Not very. My father and Fury are old friends. Fury trusted very few with my rescue. Clint was on the team that got me out. Fury oversaw my training covertly because the man has never been trusting, not really. You have to earn it, it’s not just given,” you replied. 

You didn’t want to get into the details and Bucky wasn’t about to pry. You didn’t jump when his hand covered yours. Soon enough you moved closer to him, his arm moving to be around your shoulder. 

“There’s Orion,” Bucky said, gesturing toward the sky. 

“That’s always been one of my favorites,” you replied. The two of you sat comfortably for a while, pointing out constellations and other stars. You couldn’t recall every sitting and just talking to him. Under the moonlight, he looked almost ethereal. You’d be lying if you said you never found him attractive. You didn’t see him giving you the same look when you’d look away. 

You weren’t sure when it happened, but you drifted off beside him, cuddled into his side. You woke up, still outside beside him, with a thick blanket strewn across the two of you, a note attached by your hand in Natasha’s writing. You smiled as you read it, before nestling back into Bucky’s side. You’d address the elephant in the room later, content to sleep beside him as the sun rose over the horizon.