#no seriously those boxing boots are a Choice

[wild-joker-out-pleasures]

BOXING BOOTS, JAN?! 👀

No seriously Jan, explain yourself. What on earth are thoooooose? Explain the boxing boots. 🤨

(Does Jan have a collection of interesting boots that have soles with different weights…to step on Bojan with?)

[wileys-russo]

washing machine malfunction II m.earps x reader

based on this request here washing machine malfunction II m.earps

"taking footage to scout with are you?" your best friend teased as you filmed a clip of the game, smacking her knee and sending her a playful glare. "no! proving to mary i sat through the entire game." you quipped back, sending the video to your girlfriend and pocketing your phone.

"oh sorry are we not up to your standards? do you only watch games at old trafford or wembley now?" your best friend cooed pinching your cheek sharply. "yes actually, or at least where they have actual toilet blocks and not portaloos." your face scrunched up with disgust.

"hey if you'd like to donate some money toward that we'd be very grateful, not every womens team gets funding you know." your best friend huffed as you frowned and squeezed her knee.

"i'm only teasing. you know i'm happy to be here, just wish i was watching you yell at people on the pitch and not at me for once!" you sighed as the girl scoffed and smacked you, she was normally the captain but was out in a boot having sprained her ankle last week.

"so where are you coming on the table?" you clarified, eyes set back on the match unfolding in front of you. "third, but its only the fourth round of the season. lots can change!" the brunette admitted as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

"okay no offence to you and your entire team but your keeper kept you all alive this game, it should be 5-0." you whistled as the second half started to wind down.

"of course you favour the keeper, what a shock!" your best friend drawled sarcastically with a roll of her eyes as the whistle blew for full time and a 0-0 draw.

"hey just because my girlfriend is a golden glove holding, bbc sports personality of the year winning, world cup finalist and champion of europe with a tram named after her doesn't mean im bias to keepers!" you grinned holding your hands up as your best friend rolled your eyes.

"oh but you don't brag about her right." the girl mocked with a pout as your grin grew. "only to those who have no choice but to listen, i'd like to see you try and run away from me." you gently nudged your toe against her moon boot as she shoved you.

"you know you could always play with us next season! reallyyy make the girlfriend proud, i can see mary being a very loyal wag." the girl teased as you laughed sarcastically. "you couldn't afford my salary." you shrugged with a click of your tongue.

"more like we couldn't afford your two left feet and lack of hand eye coordination." the girl snickered gesturing for you to help her up. "yeah that too." you had no choice but to agree with a grimace, tugging her up and carefully helping her down toward the barrier.

you stood by as she gave a speech, commending the girls on their efforts as your phone buzzed and you looked down with a smile seeing it was a few messages from your girlfriend.

"god you're so in love its disgusting, get a grip!" you glanced back up and pocketed your phone, playfully punching your best friend in the arm as you waited for her to finish speaking with some of her team, having driven her to the game.

"you can tell us all about what we did wrong at training! stop making your poor mate wait around for you to run your mouth." the keeper from the game warned with a grin as she joined the small huddle you were in.

"you were perfect as per usual, only feedback is maybe score from the box next time? make the game a little spicy!" your best friend teased the taller girl who rolled her eyes. "no seriously you played great! that dive in injury time was textbook and that penalty save? world cup stuff." you complimented with a wide smile.

"and she'd know, her girlfriends played in one so thats high praise." your best friend interjected shoving your head playfully. "wait seriously? talk about a dream!" the girl exhaled with a whistle and a grin.

"well then since you clearly have a good eye for talent-" the girl paused to tug off her jersey, handing it to you with a grin before hugging the girls goodbye and heading off. "we best be off to, i'll see you all monday. i'll bring my whistle!" your best friend teased as the girls groaned, you waving goodbye as the two of you headed off to your car.

"i'd be leaving that in the car if you know whats good for you." your best friend nodded to the jersey on your back seat as you pulled a face and started up the car. "what! why?" you laughed as you drove off.

"umm because your girlfriend is a world class keeper and you just took a keepers jersey from someone else." your best friend hinted. "mary won't care! she's all for more girls wanting to be keepers and she loves the womens game." you rolled your eyes as your best friend only hummed, swiftly changing topics.

~

"maz? baby i'm home!" you called out as you let yourself in, unwrapping your scarf and hanging it up on the hook. "two seconds love!" you heard your girlfriend call out from the laundry as you took off your shoes.

"hello beautiful!" the brunette appeared with a grin, placing down a basket of clean laundry on the sofa and opening her arms as you melted into them. "you smell nice." you mumbled into her shoulder making the taller girl laugh.

"ah yes the wonders of soap and shampoo!" the keeper teased, kissing you hello before pulling away. "and she's doing laundry? house wife in the making over here!" you teased, smacking her playfully on the bum with a wink.

"oi! watch it cheeky." mary warned with a point, sitting down on the sofa as you leant over the back of it to peck her lips several times. "whats that babe?" mary noticed the jersey tucked into the back of your pants as you walked into the kitchen.

"oh! well the keeper of saf's team is like insane for the league level they play. i'm serious it could have been like twenty to nothing if she wasn't on her game. we were talking after the game and she gave me her jersey!" you shrugged, dropping the item onto the counter as you rummaged through the fridge, missing the look which crossed your girlfriends face.

"oh? thats nice." mary replied bluntly as you glanced at her with a small frown. "yeah it was." you shrugged it off, grabbing it and tossing it into the dirty basket of laundry.

"how was your afternoon?" you changed topics, grabbing out the stuff to make you and mary a cup of tea. "yeah fine, went shopping with tooney and had to make a last minute excuse to leave because she takes forever! so on the rare chance she asks, you're deathly ill and needed me back home." mary groaned dramatically, head thumping back against the sofa.

"like worse than you and thats saying something!" mary tutted as you made a noise of offence. "hey! if i have to sit in a sports store for two hours while you try on every fucking pair of gloves known to man and then buy none of them, you can carry my bags and sit on a comfy little waiting chair while i try a few outfits." you warned seriously as your girlfriend held her hands up in surrender.

"especially when some of those 'outfits' i spend hours trying on are for you." you hinted, handing her the mug of tea as a smug smile settled on the keepers lips.

"mm yeah we haven't been that sort of shopping for awhile, you free tomorrow baby?" mary grinned wolfishly as you flipped her off and settled into the section of the sofa that wasn't covered in laundry and flicking on the tv.

~

"change, put this on please babe." mary tugged on the bottom of your shirt, dropping a new item of clothing onto your head. "urgh mary!" you huffed, pulling it off and sending her a glare as she grinned at you with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"why do i need to change?" you noticed what she'd given you and asked with a knowing smile. "i don't like that shirt." mary shrugged pointing to your current top with her foot as she sat up on the counter brushing her teeth.

"its your shirt!" you laughed with a shake of your head. "then i want it back, so change." mary ordered, leaning over the sink and spitting. "what if i don't want to wear this?" you egged her on, holding up the jersey inbetween your fingers like it disgusted you.

"then go pick another one, theres about twenty or so in there you can choose from." mary shrugged nodding to her side of the closet where the jerseys she'd chosen to keep over the years hung proudly, rinsing out her mouth and stepping out of the bathroom.

"mmm i actually think i might go put on that jersey from today, saf's team just played so well." you stripped off your top and took a few steps back, watching your girlfriends eyes drop immediately to your chest.

"you know on second thoughts love i actually don't think you need to wear anything at all." you laughed as mary tackled you to the bed, attacking your face with kisses as you squealed and pushed her off. "you hate that i took that girls jersey today don't you?" you moved to sit on top of her with a grin.

"no!" mary rolled her eyes, reaching out for you as you grabbed her hands and pressed them into the mattress. "yes you are, admit it. you hate it, the thought of me wearing someone elses kit!" you teased with a smirk, pressing down her hands harder.

"okay well can you blame me? you're my girlfriend and you wear my jersey. nobody elses!" mary huffed with a frown as you smiled and leant down to kiss away her pout. "you're such a baby, its adorable." you mumbled against her lips.

"i am not! god you're such a wind up." mary pulled her hands free and flipped the two of you, hovering over you now as she ducked her head and started to gently kiss at your neck.

"and tomorrow the washing machine is going to malfunction and that girls jersey will sadly be gone."

[arc-misadventures]

MFK Coco: Fox, Neptune, and Mercury.

MFK: CO II

Ruby: Hey, Coco!

Coco: Hey, Red, what's up?

Ruby: You wanna do a, MFK?

Coco: Hmm... okay, I'm game. What do you got kid?

Ruby: Marry, fuck, kill! Your choices are teammate: Fox Alistair!

Coco: W-What? My teammate, Fox?

Fox: This... this wasn't my idea. You can kill me if you want, I won't mind.

Ruby: The blue haired womanizer! Neptune Vasilias!

Neptune: Hey girl, I got a bucket of fried chicken, wanna do it?

Coco: I'm going to beat him to death with my makeup kit...

Fox: Pray for a quick death...

Ruby: And, lastly we have, Mercury Black!

Mercury: Hey there pretty lady~! Care to see what a great time really looks like?

Coco: ...

Coco: When I dome using, Gianduja they'll be nothing left, but red mist...

Fox: You should do that to, Neptune; using, Gianduja in it's weapon for is a mercy.

Coco: He'd still be dead either way.

Ruby: So, Coco, who will you choose~?

Coco: ...

Coco: One moment boys, we need to have some girl talk.

Neptune: Take your time ladies~!

Mercury: Don't take too long.

Fox: Good luck, Ruby.

Ruby: Luck? Why do I need that?

~~~

Ruby: What's the matter, Co... AHCK?!

Coco swiftly picked up, Ruby, and slammed her against the wall.

(Slam!)

Coco: Okay you little runt! Who put you up to this!

Ruby: W-W-What are you talking about?!

Coco: You know I'm gay, and I'm only into one dude! And, you're not stupid enough to make me do this with my teammate, Fox, and those two walking shit stains! So who put you up to this?!

Ruby: N-N-No one, it was all my idea!

Coco: Tell the truth, or I'll break your neck with my high heels!

Ruby: You can't do that! That's impossible!

Coco: Ask, Jaune, he can verify it himself.

Ruby: Uhhhh...?!

Coco: Get talking kid!

Ruby: It was, Yang! She gave me three boxes of cookies if I did this! It was totally, Yang's idea!

Coco: Thank you~! Now if you'll excuse me...

~~~

Coco: Alright boys... I beat you to death.

Mercury: What? What did I do?

Coco: Exist.

Fox: Ouch.

Coco: I'll reduce you to a red mist.

Neptune: S-She's being serious, isn't she?

Fox: A hundred percent serious.

Neptune: Okay...

Coco: And, as for you, Fox.

Fox: Yes?

Coco: I will lightly slap your butt. Again.

Fox: Cool.

Coco: Alright, I'm going to teach, Red's sister a lesson. Bye~!

FNM: ...

Mercury: She's going to be okay, right?

Fox: Nope.

Neptune: Uhhh...?

Mercury: Oh, okay...?

~~~

Ruby: Hey, Jaune!

Jaune: Hey, Ruby.

Ruby: Have you seen, Yang?

Jaune: Yeah, Coco took her away, to practice some boxing.

Ruby: Oh, how did that go?

Jaune: Well... black eyes oddly enough works with purple eyes...

Ruby: Oh gods...

Jaune: She decided to play with fire, she should have expected to get burned.

Ruby: well, I still got my cookies, so I'm okay with this. So, can I ask you something: Coco threatened me that if I didn't tell her put me up to this she'd break my neck with her high heel boots... D-did she actually do that?

Jaune: Oh yeah! She's actually done that.

Ruby: Seriously?!

Jaune: Yeah, guy totally had it coming... But, nonetheless...

Ruby: That sounds terrifying...

Jaune: Yeah, it was... I'm still confused about that boner I got from that...

Ruby: W-What?!

[calqlate]

US

SUMMARY: You are the side character of someone else's fairytale and you fall in love with the male lead of her story. You think, "Can a side character get their happy ending?", and you hope you can.

PAIRING: iwaizumi hajime x gn! reader

GENRE(S): angst (with a happy ending) + pining (one-sided) + second choice syndrome

CW(S)/TW(S): coarse/foul/strong language used

WC: 4657

MASTERLIST

In all cliché love stories, there would always be a love triangle between the protagonist, the good guy, and the playboy. The protagonist would always choose the bad boy, no matter what, and the good guy would always be there as moral support. That was simply the unspoken 'rule' that posed itself as a trend in all novels.

In your life, you felt that you were definitely not the protagonist. If your life were a movie, you supposed, you would probably be one of those good-natured side characters who appeared in the film from two to four times, maybe even an extra in a story. You know, the kind chef that appeared on page sixteen of the storybook, or the dutiful store assistant who was moving boxes in the back.

Now, you might be wondering who the protagonist was. It was Sawabe Nagi: skinny, fair-skinned, and popular. She was bubbly, well-liked, and beautiful to boot; she was practically born to be the main character. Like the typical protagonist she was, she chose the bad boy, Oikawa Tooru, the dashing heartthrob of Seijoh. The good guy here was then Iwaizumi Hajime, who happened to be the playboy's best friend and childhood friend.

Before the plot was written, the good guy had a backstory with the side character. (Perhaps this story would change the course of the actual story? We would never know.)

You walked into class with your earpieces plugged in as you scrolled through your Instagram feed. As you sat down, you happened to come across a ridiculously hilarious post, something like a text post regarding your favourite band, and you tried so hard not to laugh. The pressure of holding it in was so great that as a result, you snorted out loud. Your eyes widened in surprise and you immediately clapped a hand over your mouth, hoping no one heard it. Unfortunately for you, your desk neighbour Iwaizumi Hajime had heard you, and he threw you a curious glance.

A sudden thought popped into your head: Huh, Iwaizumi really almost never smiles. Almost timidly, you decided to show him the post that had caused your earlier embarrassing outburst. Cautiously, you slid your phone over onto his desk and said, "Look at it."

The tan ravenette looked up at you from your phone, meeting your gaze. You simply tilted your head towards your phone as a response, and he raised an eyebrow at you. He still looked back down at your phone anyway, after angling the device, and looked at the post. Slowly, his lips formed the grace of smile. Shortly after, a chuckle resonated from his throat.

"Seriously, Iwaizumi, you should smile more," you commented casually, pulling your earpieces out of your ears, "It suits you."

"You think so?" Iwaizumi asked, somewhat shyly, handing your phone back to you.

You nodded, taking your phone from him, then tucking it carefully into your blazer pocket.

"I'll give you my number so you can send me more of these, then," he said.

You stopped mid-movement, then you laughed slightly. Very smooth, Iwaizumi, very smooth.

Ever since that day, the two of you would talk, laugh at ridiculous posts either one of you found on the internet or social media, eat lunch, and do usual things friends did. Slowly, through the passage of time, you realised a few small things: how you looked forward to your mini rendezvous during lunch, how you automatically lit up whenever Iwaizumi smiled, laughed, or complimented you, and how you found yourself wanting to know him inside out and as well as the back of your hand.

The final epiphany settled in: through the passage of time, you had undoubtedly fallen in love with Iwaizumi Hajime.

Your world was filled with endless joy, dizzying euphoria, and pure bliss: you would spend the rest of your remaining high school years with Iwaizumi. There was, indeed, a small part of you deep down that was afraid to come clean with him, to tell him how you really felt about him. However, you decided that it was better to keep him in the dark. You would wait for the right time to tell him everything. Your desire could wait.

That was, until he told you that he liked Sawabe Nagi — that was what burst your unknowingly fragile bubble of innocence. It was as though your ideas of your future dreamlike days with him had simply disintegrated into thin air.

However, you decided to put your friendship first before your selfish wants: you put on a brave smile, hid your sadness and slight jealousy, and wished him all the best in courting Sawabe.

You continued to hang out with him, though it pained you knowing that he never felt the same way you did. It was definitely difficult to feign smiles and speak comfortably with him. You had also once considered putting some distance between the both of you, but your better judgement convinced you otherwise as you did not want to dump your pain onto Iwaizumi like that. It would not be fair to him at all.

One day, after an afternoon of rigorous training, you walked out and was heading to the gate when you spotted someone sitting with their head low under the tree, just near the gates. The figure's silhouette was unmistakable to you; it was none other than your spiky-haired deskie.

"Iwaizumi?" you said as you approached him cautiously, watching his every movement with great focus.

"Oh, hey," he said as he glanced up to look at you, smiling slightly as if — no, definitely — trying to hide his earlier gloomy mood, "You're done with practice?"

You noticed that his characteristically mesmerising deep charcoal eyes were rather red and puffy, with dried tears on his face — a seemingly vulnerable look you never thought you would see on his being. A somewhat glassy look was in his eyes, as if he was looking into the fog, desperately searching for something far away.

You knew that you were not that something he was looking for.

"Were you crying?" you asked as you sat down next to him, eyes still on him, not daring to break away for just a breath.

He knew there was not really any point lying about it, for he knew he was easy to read, especially with you since he spent most of his time with you these days, and he nodded in response. He dropped his gaze to his hands, which were balled into fists on his thighs.

"What happened?" you asked, then added hurriedly, "If you don't mind telling me. I won't judge, I swear."

"Sawabe rejected me," he said softly as more tears formed in his eyes, the painful words getting lodged in his throat, "She... she told me she was sorry, that she... likes Oikawa instead."

"I'm... sorry to hear that," you whispered, not really knowing how you should be feeling. A part of you was overjoyed by the thought of Iwaizumi not standing a chance with Sawabe, and another part of you was disgusted at yourself for feeling this way. However, one could not stop the heart for desiring what it wanted.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to envelop him in a hug to console him. Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around you in return and gripped onto your uniform tightly, burrowing his face into your shoulder and staining his tears on your blazer. You rubbed small circles on his back to further comfort him, not knowing what else to say but let him cry his heart out and let time soften his sobs.

"It seems like no one'll fall for me," he muttered in self-hate after he could not seem to cry any longer since his throat was getting raw and his tear ducts seemed to run out of tears, then he began to dry his tears and rest his chin on your shoulder as he chuckled dryly, "Not like it's that surprising, really."

"Are you kidding me?" your outburst was incredulous, with you pulling him away from the embrace and staring at him with widened eyes and furrowed brows, "I can't believe you thought so lowly of yourself; I fell in love with you within these two months, you know!"

Once those rambling words left your mouth, you turned red, slapped a hand over your mouth, and bit your lower lip. You began to berate yourself internally, What a wonderful time you chose to confess!

An awkward silence settled between the both of you, and you decided that he was officially disturbed by your sudden (and inappropriate) confession.

"S-Sorry, I should really get going," you muttered, then mumbled a flimsy excuse and dropped your hand to your side, gathered your belongings up, and prepared to leave. You were very much ready to get home to cry, wallow in your misery, and eat a tub full of ice cream.

"Thank you," Iwaizumi said suddenly which caused you to whirl your head at him, a small yet empathetic smile tugging at his lips, "It made my day."

Suddenly, you had this strong urge in you to say something ridiculous that popped up in your head, something that you knew only worked in Korean dramas, not real-life scenarios. However, it was worth a shot, right?

"Listen, Iwaizumi," you said, choosing your words very carefully, "I know this may sound stupid and one-sided, considering how you got... you know." You waved your hand in the air vaguely, not wanting to verbalise what Iwaizumi had been through a couple of hours ago, then continued, "Anyway, I'm sure I can treat you better than her, and I'm sure I can help you get over it."

There was a moment of silence.

Have I gone too far? you thought, fiddling with your thumbs nervously, Maybe I should just tell him to forget what I just said—

His reply cut you off mid-thought, "Then let's date."

"Seriously, [F/N], if you want to look at videos of corgi butts, do so when you're not walking," Iwaizumi sighed as he sat next to the bed which you were currently sitting on in the infirmary.

You, being hooked onto this never-ending list of corgi underside videos a friend had recommended to you, decided it would be a great idea to watch them while walking towards the indoor sports hall. It just so happened you were walking down a rather steep decline while doing so, did not see that you were about to trip over a sizeable pebble, and went tumbling down the hill. Luckily, you were not too high up the hill, so you managed to not sustain any severe injuries other than a twisted ankle. You were even luckier Iwaizumi was nearby, because he had been trying to find Oikawa who seemingly vanished from his classroom ("Probably to flirt with other girls," Iwaizumi would always say with a massive eye roll).

"You really are a good boyfriend, Hajime," you said with a grin as he simply shook his head at you.

It had been about a month since both of you started dating, and you had been trying your best to help Iwaizumi get over his rejection. The first step in your relationship was to address each other by your respective first names (which was your idea). Both of you were a little bit awkward at the initial stage, but soon got over it and became a second nature to the two of you.

"[L/N]? Iwaizumi?"

The curtains separating the both of you from the next bed was swept open by the school nurse, revealing a very pale Sawabe. Her dark hair made a stark comparison to her unhealthily white complexion. To finish off the staggering look, there was a pair of eye bags circling the bottom of her eyes.

Iwaizumi froze in place, like a deer caught in headlights. You immediately noticed this and contemplated whether you should reach over and squeeze his hand gently as a form of reassurance. After all, his hand was now (fortunately) close to yours.

"I guessed it was you guys judging from your voices," Sawabe added with a little laugh (even though no one really asked her).

You did not take the chance and your hand remained glued to your side. Iwaizumi's hand was now drawn back to his side as he stood up.

"Sawabe? What happened to you?" Iwaizumi asked, walking up to her, an even more concerned expression taking over his face compared to the one he had given you, "Where's Trashikawa?"

"Tooru said he was busy and couldn't come, because he said he had some extra volleyball practice he wanted to put in," the brunette replied, "As for me, it isn't anything serious. Just a couple of things went wrong. I'm fine now."

You averted your gaze from the pair, clenching your hands into fists. You knew it was fine for Iwaizumi got get worried over sawabe since they were friends, but you could not help yourself and felt jealous. The way they conversed sounded as though they were dating, which seemed like a punch to your gut.

This also seemed to further highlight your incompetence in the whole point you and Iwaizumi were dating in the first place. Iwaizumi still seemed to hold a special place for his former love after all.

You then knew, I can't hold a candle to Sawabe.

Slowly, you slipped off the bed and limped to the doorway as quickly and quietly as you possibly could. You wanted to leave while you still had some control over your emotions, before it was too late and you started crying and made both a scene and a fool out of yourself.

Iwaizumi never noticed your disappearance, and you never felt your heart ache so badly before.

After practice, you switched your phone on to see a few messages from Iwaizumi. Earlier, you had turned it off after you fled the scene in the infirmary, not wanting to hear anything from Iwaizumi or anyone, really. Since you had busted your ankle, you could not take part in track activities, so you sat by the bleachers and finished up some of your biology homework. In the end, the coach told you to go home and get some rest.

Tentatively, your thumb hovered over his name in your inbox before you finally decided to read his messages.

Hajime: Are you at practice now?

Hajime: Why did you leave so suddenly?

Hajime: I'm sorry, I won't be walking home with you today. I have to walk Sawabe home since Trashikawa is still practicing and no one's home to fetch her.

Hajime: Text me when you get home, okay?

Kissing your teeth, sighing inwardly, and not wanting to answer, you put on some music and shoved your phone into your blazer pocket. Subconsciously, you knew Iwaizumi would still be worried over Sawabe. Your heart twisted in jealousy at this.

When you arrived home, you decided to switch your phone to aeroplane mode to refrain from any distractions while you were revising. The first exam was coming in a month's time; you could not afford to relax. You put on your Spotify playlist meant for effective studying and locked yourself in your room for a solid hour.

After a good hour of revision, you checked the time on the digital clock which stood on your table: 6.45 pm.

The thoughts of Iwaizumi walking Sawabe back home flooded your mind. Did he really move on, or does he still have something for her? Your eyebrows furrowed as your brain spiraled further into confusing thoughts, everything getting tangled in a chaos.

Not wanting to waste any time thinking about it, you buried your face into your arms as you crossed them on your desk, closing your eyes and willing yourself to stop worrying. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Knock knock. Knock knock.

The sound of gentle knocking woke you right up. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you caught sight of someone at your window, fist to your window panels. You squinted at the rather well-built figure hovering by your window before your eyes widened in recognition. 

Iwaizumi?

Quickly, you rushed over (all while limping) and opened the window to let him in. Panic filled your veins as you opened the grilles.

"What are you doing? This is the second floor!" you berated him as he tumbled inside and onto your bedroom floor, "Why didn't you use the front door like a normal human being?"

"N-No one answered when I rang the doorbell, so I decided to climb up instead," he answered, and you noticed he sounded out of breath.

"Why are you breathless?" you asked, "Did you run over or something?"

"Yeah, I ran here since I got worried about you," he answered as he tried to catch his breath after sitting up, watching you carefully, "You left my texts on read and didn't read any of my new ones."

You just let out a soft sigh and said, "Come on, let's go downstairs and I'll get you something to eat."

Iwaizumi helped you down the steps (since you were injured, after all) and to the living room and was told to sit down, only he refused, because he pointed out you were still limping. You did not bother to argue with him and let him follow you.

The two of you then headed to the kitchen to get some biscuits and two glasses of milk, which Iwaizumi insisted on carrying. Both of you headed back to the living room with your snacks and sat comfortably on the sofa, with Iwaizumi balancing the plate of biscuits on his thighs.

After a few moments of hearing the sounds of crunching biscuits, he said, "Hey, let's play a game."

"Alright, fine," you said, reaching for another biscuit, "What do you have in mind?"

"Truth or dare," Iwaizumi replied simply, chewing his biscuit thoughtfully, "Now, truth or dare?"

"Truth," you answered without hesitation, popping the biscuit into your mouth.

"What do you think of our relationship?" he asked, then pointing between both of you, "You know, us."

There was a short moment of deafening silence (not even the prior sounds of biscuit chewing was heard) before you answered with a defeated look in your eyes, "There was never an 'us'."

He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, What do you mean?

"I love you," you proclaimed suddenly, turning your head to meet his gaze heads-on in determination.

No response. He just could not bring himself to say it. The words were lodged in his throat, being barricaded by an unknown force from escaping his lips, which were tightly shut. This silence confirmed your suspicions; this silence was as loud as a lion's deafening roar, an obvious statement of impending heartbreak and goodbyes.

"See?" you said softly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, and you immediately looked away, "That's exactly what i mean."

Quickly, you wiped your tears away, put on your best smile, and said, "Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of his phone ringing cut him off.

"Sorry," he mouthed as he took his phone out of his trouser pocket and glanced at the caller ID (he looked somewhat scared, but of what?), then answering, "Hello?"

"Iwaizumi? Could you come back to keep me company?" Sawabe's voice was unmistakable from the other line, causing you to further shrink down in your seat, "I'm kinda afraid of being alone."

"I'm coming over," he answered without missing a beat before ending the call.

You whirled your head over and looked into his eyes, yours full of hurt and sorrow. Though you knew he had probably never genuinely loved you like a true lover from the start, you never expected him to ditch you for someone else, that someone being the previous apple of his eye.

Though, could Sawabe still be counted as 'previous'? Iwaizumi cared about her; he clearly still had her as his number one priority, it seemed.

Your head started to spin with wild thoughts as you watched him place the plate of remaining biscuits on the table: Was he really going to her? did he never get over her? Did he ever see me as his significant other?

"I'm sorry, [F/N]. I really am," Iwaizumi said, a look of sorrow and regrets gracing his face (the very face you came to love), before giving a slight bow and exiting the house.

You sat there, eyes hollow, head silent, heart broken. You did not know what else to think. The only thing you knew was that you were tired. You were tired of chasing someone who had another goal in their eyes. You were tired of trying to be the missing puzzle piece in someone else's life. You were tired of illusionising yourself that the one you truly loved reciprocated your feelings.

In the end, the joke was on you. You were left alone with nothing else, just you and your broken heart that had been shattered into tiny shards that lay around your feet.

In cliché romance movies, the protagonist gets into a messy love triangle and falls in love with the bad boy.

And in this film, you were just a side character who liked the good guy, but never had your love acknowledged.

You walked into class with your earpieces plugged in, muting the unpleasant world that surrounded you. Life still went on even though bad things happen, but you can still angrily say "Fuck you" to the world who bestowed empty promises upon you and wallow in self-pity.

In all retrospect, you had been thinking about how your relationship between you and Iwaizumi had been, and by judging the latest (dramatic) turn of events, it was not going to get far in the long run.

Once you placed your books and materials on your desk, you could hear a muted voice saying through your earpieces, "Good morning."

Though it was faint through the loud dance music you were playing, you still knew the voice's owner. After all, it was the voice you had come to love, too.

"H — Iwaizumi," you said simply as you took out your earpiece, cursing yourself mentally for the slip of your tongue. (You cringed inwardly at your second action following your response; you probably looked way too excited when you heard him call out to you. Bad habits were indeed hard to break.)

"I-I'm really sorry about yesterday," Iwaizumi muttered, looking down at the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets, not daring to meet your gaze on him that you were actually imposing yourself to do.

Without saying a word, you grabbed his hand and led him out of the classroom. Class was not going to start until another thirty minutes or so, anyway. You had more pressing matters at hand to discuss with him rather than something that was going to be forgotten in a few years.

You swiftly pushed past the hordes of students who were either gossiping about Oikawa, talking about a weekend party, or some other useless junk, bringing him to the school rooftop.

The school rooftop seemed like a secret haven: free of students' chatter, free of judgement, free of suffocating criticism.

You let go of him and walked a few steps forward, your back faced towards him.

"Are... you okay?" he asked tentatively. You had never behaved like this before, so this was completely new for him.

Without turning around, you said, "I've been thinking a lot since last night."

You turned around and looked into his eyes, hoping that what you were doing was right. You did not want to say it (you never would if you had the option to), but you wanted to spare yourself from the torture and did not want yourself to do this any longer. After all, it proved that your attempts to get him to move on failed. Love can be such a powerful force.

"Let's break up," you said simply, trying to keep your gaze levelled and not let your emotions take control and ruin this any further.

"What?" Iwaizumi coughed out with widened eyes, a little dumbfounded by this twist of events. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect you to break up with him. After all, you were the one who asked to date in the first place.

"This relationship is one-sided, and it's going nowhere," you stated, "So there's really no point continuing it. It's hurting both of us. Besides, it seems like I didn't help you get over her."

You took a quick and deep breath and continued, "It isn't good for any of us. so, let's break up and spare one another."

Feeling tears sting your eyes, you quickly strode past him, not wanting to let him see you break down. You willed yourself not to cry until you made it past that door back into the campus. It was going so well, too, so why—

Suddenly, you felt a warm and larger hand take hold of your wrist. The same hand pulled you back into someone's arms. It was Iwaizumi, of course, bringing you into his embrace, just like how you had done for him when you found him near the school gates being upset over Sawabe's reveal of her true feelings a month ago.

"You did help me," he said gently, "You're very special to me, and you've brightened my life. You've made me see the world in a different light, a different perspective, and for that, I want to thank you."

That was not exactly what you wanted to hear, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Before you knew it, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his torso and you leaned further in, your head pressing into his chest and you could hear his steady heartbeat resembling a siren song.

"If you would give me a second chance, I will tell you those three words one day," Iwaizumi said, with sincerity embedded in his words.

"So you're going to force yourself to love me?" you asked, breaking the embrace and looking up at him with a somewhat offended look, "Because I don't want you to. It's not right to the both of us."

"I'm not," he answered quickly, then explained, "I'm unsure of my feelings as of now, but if you would give me a second chance..."

He reached for your hand, encased it within his larger one, and continued with sincerity in his eyes, "I'm sure I won't hurt you again."

You bit your lip as your heart struggled to make a decision. The rational part of you wanted to refuse and say no, to put an end to this tragic tale. However, the lovesick fool in you convinced you otherwise. A second chance would not hurt anybody, and maybe there would come a day where Iwaizumi would really say those three words you longed to hear with a sincere heart.

"Alright," you stepped forward and squeezed his hands, "I'll wait for you."

"Thank you," he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your neck, warmth spreading throughout his body. Moving on will be difficult, but for you, he was willing to do it and free himself from Sawabe's grasp.

In all cliché romance films, the protagonist gets into a love triangle and chooses the bad boy. The good guy supports them and thinks he is unloved, when there is a minor side character wanting and waiting to be with him, for him to extend his hand and accept their love, but never getting their happy ending.

It seems like, in this romance movie, the side character does get their own happily ever after after all.

[proton-selfships]

So I just read this great post by @kittyandco and it struck a really, really deep chord with me as someone who was also in the selfship community in ye olden days (as in, pre-pandemic olden days).

Now, don't get me wrong, those days weren't perfect either. I still experienced hostility for little reason, and it still hurts me to think about and affects my ability to trust people to this day. And I sure as hell wasn't the only one, or the one who had it the worst. But that lack of good faith that used to be the exception really does feel like the norm now, and it makes interacting way more stressful than it ever was back then. You're expected to read novella-length DNIs and can't interact with or follow anyone without fearing that you missed one of your fandoms on their DNI list and will get shit for it.

(And those pages are often confusing to navigate and use hard-to-read colors, to boot. Seriously, the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines should be mandatory reading for anyone making a Carrd or Rentry account)

And that's not even to mention the fear of what you say to someone in a private conversation getting twisted and shared and vagueposted about without your permission. That's something I've witnessed happen to multiple friends of mine. Again, isolated incidents back then, way more common than it should be now.

Meanwhile, *old woman voice* back in my day... What I always think back to was the really popular ask game that would go around, where you could ask whoever reblogged it to come up with headcanons for your F/Os. And people were sending each other asks left and right! People were excited to look up F/Os they'd never heard of to come up with a little pick-me-up for the person in their ask box! And I remember them being a blast to read and write!

Nowadays? If your F/Os are from sources that's not in the media zeitgeist or another limited set of perennial sources people will generally know enough to engage with... Good luck getting anyone to talk to you. (And that definitely goes double for anyone who ships with characters who aren't white men or isn't white themselves, that's a whole other issue that I've definitely experienced as a lesbian.)

I think it's both the growing atmosphere of hostility and social media in general's growing focus on "making content" and "branding" that keeps people from reaching out to each other unless they ship the same kinds of things they do. It's not really a community anymore. And that sucks, because that's a problem that's infected selfship spaces from the social media landscape as a whole

But I think we could still make the choice to see each other as people. Because, at the end of the day, selfshippers don't really have anywhere else to go. We're all just a bunch of people who carry love for characters in our hearts. Shouldn't we be willing to extend that love to each other, too?

(Obviously, this comes with caveats. I don't know if this is just me and my friends, but it also feels like we're all just too tired nowadays to reach out or meaningfully engage with other shippers' work. I'm definitely guilty of going MIA for long periods for that reason, so I'm not going to act like the lack of interaction with my blog specifically isn't my fault there. But in my experience I've seen a lot of that exhaustion come from this, from the walking on eggshells and the lack of reciprocity of the energy you put in, so it all still applies)

[aleeyenn]

Hello aleeyenn! I'm the anon who requested and sent that message!

I had to make a whole account because I wanted to show you an image, but anons aren't allowed to do that, so I had to rewrite everything, so my apologies!

Also, my apologize if this is simply weird in general, I dunno if I should stick to Tumblr (since you did, you're the least active here) >.<

But I wanted to say, I'm incredibly happy and honored that my message meant so much to you! I'm really honored and soo hyped because you and your work really mean so much to me, as in your one of my biggest inspirations, so I was so excited to read that!! Thank you! Please keep drawing and creating. (Also, have you considered making full body refs for your gijinkas :o?)

I did want to gush and say why I love your Pin (and all your other gijinkas) and felt really seen. It's because of how unique and out of box the designs are that you rarely see with other designs, while still capturing the same personalities and aesthetic (and even shape sometimes) of the original characters.

But to be specific, thank you for making her super feminine and pretty, while keeping her punk side!!! >u<

Alot of other gijinkas design her in typical biker / rebel chick get up w/ a lot of metal spikes, which dose makes sense, because of her metal part on the top of her (and fits her tough leader role personality wise) a lot of also make her body type in an hourglass, which also makes since, since Irl pins are in those shapes.

But what I really appreciate about your design is that you went in the opposite direction! I love how you made Pin wear these big poofy clothes and aprons! It's not only an easy and unique way to reference the shape of an actual pin, but it highlights a side of her that I don't really see the fandom highlight all that often. Her love of baking, gardening, her being bit of caretaker and just an friendly and easy-going person. I also just love seeing blk and poc women just being so happy and being femmine, it's so rare to see that and makes me so happy.

But another small design choice that I can't over and that made me go over on the edge on the "omg she's literally me" train. Are her punk boots! I know it's there to show off how big and tall she is compared to her meow, but I really like the contrast! And still showing off a little of her and toughie side, that she doesn't mind getting dirty. I love you can show off that is a caring and soft person yet still commanding woman by just a design!

This means so much to me, because I didn't think I could consider myself part of the alt community, due to me being really femmine and plus sized, I thought I didn't really fit, but I think seeing your version of Pin made me realize that being "punk" means so many diffrent things, and I don't really have to be super thing and pale to order to be an part of that culture, and never realizing that I could be considered pretty

Also, I just love how you draw her with your version of Coiny, it's so adorable and again, it's amazing to see a happy plus sized girl being loved and adore by a guy, not be treated as joke., thank you so much

Thats all! My apologizes for going on lesbian and analytical mode on your inbox, I'm deeply sorry if I come across as weird, you probability were not thinking that hard or deep with your designs, but I just really admire of how all of them are breath of fresh air, I have known a specific person that looks exactly like one of designs in my family when I think about it!

I just want to say before I go, is that this what I specifically want to go out and cosplay as, as it's what totally made me single handedly self-confident that I could be pretty in the alt community when I so low on myself

I love this drawing of Pin so much, you have no ideal it meant so much, I know it's sound silly that a doodle affected me, but seriously, I thought I could never look fit in or look pretty in that aesthetic with my weight, interests, and skin

When I saw this and started really seeing myself in it, literally I went in my head "wow, if your Pin can look so beautiful in that, I guess I can!" and it somehow changed a lot of my perspective of me.

Thank you so much again aleeyenn! I'm currently getting started, thank you for making my entire year just by existing and drawing. Keep doing what you are doing and amazing work, and I hope you have an amazing new year!

I WOULDVE ANSWERED THIS SOONER BUT I WANTED TO MAKE A REF FOR PIN FOR YOU! but GAAAHHHH nobody has ever said anything like that to me before and it MEANS SOOOOO MUCH I CANT EXPRESS IT 😭😭😭 when i make humanizations allllll i want is for them to make people feel represented and confident in themselves and MY DREAM CAME TRUE!!!im like. genuinely so happy that you said all that and really analyzed her because i actually put a lot of thought into some humanizations i make and she was one of them… i feel like with a bunch of pin gjinkas they either make her super feminine or super punk without an in between and i wanted to make an in between because it’s what she needs .. nobody like really acknowledges both parts of her i feel like a lot of everyone sees her as a shy anxious girl or rude and cold person because they focus mostly on pre split bfb and that irks me … because shes really not just an anxious person she is a leader and blah blah blah but i really wanted to push every aspect of her into a humanization to make her recognized as herself instead of someone she’s not … but no more rambling THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS AND IM SO HAPPY MY ART MADE YOU FEEL THAT WAY 😢 you are so sweet and i’m literally over the moon that you like her that much and saw so much in her Like my design isn’t just a design it made someone more confident and accepting of themselves THATS SO CRAZY! thank you thank you thank you… i hope you enjoy these little drawings i whipped up i need to make more references anyway so this was a good head start… THANK HOUUUU and remember there’s nothing more powerful than embracing and being yourself and never stop doing that! YAYYYYY!

[sennenpharaoh]

"I decided to go with this witch costume I tried on for tomorrow but I can't decide on what shoes to wear with it." Setting down the boxes he pulled out a shoe from each box. "The knee high high heels, or the thigh highs?"

Ah. So Yugi wanted his... ahem... expert opinion on choice of boots to wear.

Of course this was a non issue, but since Yugi delved it as an important question he would treat it as such.

So... knee highs vs thigh highs. Knee highs obviously show more, but thigh highs draw the attention a little higher up the leg, leaving more to the imagination, and...

Wait, why is he thinking so seriously on this? It's just a costume!

"I think th-thigh highs would look cute- I mean good on you. Yea, thigh highs. I pick those."

[pen-observing]

Hi! If you will have any inspiration about this

What do you think would be little things that brothers would bring you as courting you? As like birds or penguins with rocks and sticks?

Thank you 💜

sjdaj this was fun! i did have an image of lucifer bringing feathers as a meme in my mind for a sec

what the brothers bring you while courting you/wanting to impress you:

Lucifer:

He is what many would consider to be a classic idea of a man. Tall, dark, handsome with refined taste. Because of this he tries to be refined in what he brings you as well. Why should you two not share such traits?

Lucifer because of this relies on the extravagant, classic choices. Most of all – jewelry.

Rings, necklaces, bracelets – everything he sees while out on an errand that catches his eye.

He also tries to match some items with you. He has a golden pen, why shouldn’t you have one as well?

However, one thing that gets in his way is that: no matter how strong his impulse to buy or obtain rare jewels is – he cannot always give them to you.

He overthinks it.

‘if I give them two rings two weeks in a row, would that be too much? Would they then spend money to buy an outfit that matches it? Would the gifts lose their meaning if I don’t space them out? If I continue to give them so many gifts, they would feel responsible to return them so they would spend more money on me and we both know that I am the one who has more money so--’

All these thoughts come to him. Sometimes Lucifer even thinks that your pride would be hurt if he gives you jewels so often.

He tries not to go overboard but he knows that there is a whole desk drawer of little boxes just waiting for the right time to go to you.

Mammon:

No matter how much Mammon may chase gold and sparkles – he is no Lucifer and there is no way that he can just rely on jewels.

Sure, on very special occasions he manages to surprise you with them and that does make it more meaningful.

Mammon puts aside everything else and actually gets a job whenever your birthday is close.

So what else could be bring you?

He is well aware of how birds bring branches or rocks – how sometimes they even spend so much time flying high above and continuously dropping walnuts for others on the road until they crack. His approach is similar.

When you have issues or need to open something – he always offers himself.

It is a bit silly but being there for someone counts.

Besides this – every trinket that he sees somehow ends up in your room

Plushies, fun masks, nail polish that matches his, a leaf that fell in his hair while he was sleeping under a tree and dreamt of you.

He also brings postcards, magazines, photos you might enjoy.

Once he brought you a heart shaped stone and bragged about how his keen eye managed to observe it in the clean river!

Something in every corner of your room will be adjacent to him.

“What if I brought you branches?” “What?” “Nothing!”

He just wanted to ask!

Leviathan:

Lucifer is impulsive in buying just one thing, Levi, however, is impulsive all around.

And that impulsivity goes in many directions.

He is able to use and calculate all his Akuzon points to make sure that you get 10 products instead of just 1.

He takes it very, very seriously.

Sometimes he buys you way too many snacks, other times he orders 5 costumes

Often his courting relies on the thought; what if we shared this!

His mind says that the more you have in common the better match you are.

This is why he brings matching keychains or slippers or even computer backgrounds and mousepads.

He still knows that ‘matching’ does not fully count but it really warms his heart when he sees that you are willing to share and indulge in those small things that would not really matter to others.

It gives him a confidence boost and reassures him that you are in fact open to him.

However, something still has to be yours alone.

Yours alone, from his hands and he needs to make sure of that.

Levi does bring you pearls like penguins do.

And he did in fact spend a long time underwater making sure he brings the best ones.

Just... never show him the video that trended of a female penguin cheating on her partner in the human world.

Satan:

Satan, no matter how much he tries to deny it, is in many ways similar to Lucifer.

He might dress the way he does but he tries to be a classic gentleman in this regard.

He does bring jewelry too – however he never brings it without a deeper, more profound reason.

‘so what if this ring is rare? What does it matter to them? Nothing.’

He has to hear you say it is very pretty to give it to you.

The necklace needs to remind him of your eyes or he is not buying it at all.

Because of this – he is very picky so few gifts are of this nature.

What else does he bring?

Satan writes you notes all the time.

Sometimes they are there to remind you of water or meals, other times they are short quotes.

In fact, he brings you annotated books; lines that remind him of you; quotes of feelings he knows thanks to you.

He brings you parts of himself and looks for parts of you in everything.

This is his idea of courting.

And don’t be surprised to get letters (wax made by him) under your door even if you live close by.

Asmodeus:

Unlike the others, Asmo has no problems with giving you whatever his own impulse says to.

Why should he hide these 2 perfumes that he bought thinking of you and wait for 3 weeks to present them to you?

No, do it right then and there because your heart felt the love or do not do it at all!

Because of this, his impulse costs a lot. Only second to Lucifer.

Asmo wants to give you luxurious things but he knows that jewelry alone can get boring rather fast and is limited by time and fashion and practicality etc.

So he gives you luxury in everything.

New lines of fragrance are yours as well as his, new skin care products that few humans can buy just show up at your door.

Does he also give you framed photos of him? Yes

Does he give you best silk? Also yes.

Why should the two of you not enjoy these things? You deserve it after all.

Still, Asmo is very sentimental too.

He gifts you photo albums of things that make him feel so. Memories of trips and walks; of sleepovers and quiet nights as well.

Yes, luxury is there but this small pretty pen is cheap and has hearts on it! He simply has to give it to you!

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub knows the ‘proper’, ‘correct’ or expected ways to court someone.

He knows what gifts others give and why.

But, all of that seems slightly...like vanity or showing off to him.

It just wouldn’t feel right to give you a framed work of art or color stones that glimmer if it does not really awake something.

His gifts are as gentle as him.

Yes, food is the most obvious choice but he really does worry if you are eating well because humans are fragile.

Flowers that he sees in shops or on walks.

While once walking with Luke he saw some and said how pretty they would look on you. Luke taught him to make flower crowns for that reason.

Most of his gifts are handmade.

He wants to help you on his own no matter what.

The most consistent gifts however are those that you said you needed.

Doesn’t matter when you said it or how, maybe it was just a passing thought, but he remembers and he gets them for you.

Belphegor:

it wouldn’t be wrong to say that he manages to mix up all of these ways and refuses to settle down on just one type.

This is because he is similar to Beel.

Beel gives you thinks you said you needed; Belphie gives you those you did not even notice.

He is constantly observing you and being as smart as he is – nothing escapes him.

You don’t have to complain how you grew bored of your boots or how annoying those headphones are.

He just notices it and gives you new ones.

Sometimes he looks at you during a party in Diavolo’s castle and things that a necklace is missing and would actually be useful in the future as well; so, he buys it.

Books for assignments you are not aware you will need next year find their way to your table. Yes, it is a year but he is a published Devildom scholar so trust him with this.

Paintings, matching rings with stars, a keychain of some small alien from a human TV show etc.

He treads the lines of outlandish with luxury and simple.

Seeing you surprised no matter what because you never mentioned these things always brings him joy.

a/n: how tf do you spell jewelry is it this or jewellery or i hate his word pls

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind The Gap: One

Summary: In an age of Heroes, there's always one more Villain. Can Shang- Chi handle his girlfriend needing to walk a Hero's Journey of her own? And how will he handle the two of you not being the only "people" in your relationship?

“Where are you?”

“I’m safe- well. Relatively speaking.”

“Y/N-” He tightened his grip on the phone like it was a life line. Like if he clung on hard enough, he could find you somehow.

“I promise to explain it all when I get back,” you say slowly, in what you hope is a relaxed tone of voice. It’s a little had to do with a desert Eagle pointed directly at your nose but for Shang-Chi, to keep him out of this you’d try.

“Please,” he whispered. He could hear the difference in your tone. It wasn’t your usual easy going voice. The one that filled him with a sense of calm. There was a sharpness. And under current he’d only heard once before. And it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“Tell Katy I’m sorry I have to miss Karaoke night,” you try, hoping to break his concentration. “I have to go, I love you.”

And before he can get anything else out, the line goes dead. The line goes dead and he can feel a hollow ache in his chest. One that tells him you’re in trouble. Big trouble. And without being able to keep you on the phone, there’s no telling where you went.

“She’s smart,” Xialing said frowning. “Either she’s done this before or she was warned. But we couldn’t get a fix on her.”

“She’s an archive,” Shang Chi said, trying not to sound bitter, “Smart is an understatement.” He folded his arms and looked over Xailing’s shoulder frowning. There had to be a pattern. Something had to make sense. You were a creature of habit. Very particular habits. When you ate and when you slept was a strict schedule. And on the run you’d be trying to hold on to something… Unless that was all part of your cover, too.

“What happens if-”

Shang- Chi felt his head jerk up and his eyes narrow, making Katy flinch reflexively, “If we can’t find her?” he finished.

Katy nodded hesitantly and he exhaled slowly trying to rein in his temper, “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

____

You toss your phone away carelessly and listen to the sound of a heavy boot crushing it under heel and scattering the pieces. But still, you don’t look away from the man pointing a gun at you.

“Not bad for a librarian… A little on the nose don’t you think?” he scoffed.

You force yourself into a nonchalant shrug and smile a little, “The best place to hide is in plain sight. At least some of the time.”

And that’s the last thing you managed to get out before that Desert Eagle cracked across the side of your face, sending you into the dark once more.

________

Wenwu watched his son pace, trying to stem the tide of panic. Your phone had gone from ringing out to nothing. Straight to voice mail.

“You got me, leave a message. Or don’t. Whatever.”

“Does she have enemies?”

Shang-Chi exhaled slowly and took a deep breath, “None. At least none that I know about. She avoided the snap but… There’s a bit of time before she wound up in the City she doesn’t really talk about.”

“So she could have enemies?”

He stopped and carded his fingers through his hair, “If not enemies because of who she is then… maybe because of what she is.”

“What she is?”

Shang Chi nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t even sure he completely understood. He only knew that your brother had warned him. Told him that there were things you could do that were… rare. That might attract attention. And he wasn’t sure if he could share that information. Even if it might bring you home. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. For all he knew you could be dying. You could be dead and it could already be too late. But if there was a chance… No matter how small, he could take your anger. He could take you never speaking to him again. As long as he knew you were alive.

She’s an- an Archive,” he said slowly. “At least. That’s what the world knows them as now, I guess.”

He watched in apprehension as he saw his Father’s eyes widen in understanding and it was clear that he’d met, or at least heard of the Archives before.

“What does she hold?” he asked, seriously.

“Secrets. Things that are hidden.”

Even as Shang-Chi heard himself say the words, he knew he didn’t understand, not really. That had been what your Brother had told him. Quickly. Quietly. While you were distracted with a tea kettle and getting out the mugs. And even his most intense searches could turn up no information.

“Secrets?” Wenwu repeated, “Such as?”

And all Shang-Chi could do was shrug. He’d seen you at work. Your fingers brushing the spines of books. Tenderly. Almost lovingly. And he’d thought that it was cute. That it was an extension of your curiosity. A love of knowing. He thought of the way you’d told him once that Libraries were where you felt at home. Where you felt safe. He thought of the evenings when he came to walk you home. The serenity in the security lights. The way you smiled at him. And his chest throbbed. The secrets you knew probably didn’t include any martial arts.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, leaning heavily against the table, hanging his head. “The only information I have came second hand from her brother. And even then, he only told me that she isn’t human. At least not all human.”

He didn’t like to think about it. And he didn’t like to think about the distance he tried to put between you when he found out. Or how that distance had lead him here. The reaction that had made you avoid coming to him for help. He felt the hand on the back of his neck. But it didn’t register. Not really. In the back of his head, he could hear you. A casual fact. Things about Aliester Crowley. Or Agrippa. Or the Knights Templar.

You’d always written off questions about it as being a weird kid. Or by reminding people that you had a doctorate in Anthropology. But it wasn’t… It never felt like that. It felt like you had just… said it.

Shang Chi didn’t need to be looking at his father to know he was frowning. Thinking. “If we can’t get to her, I need to try to call her brother.”

“What is her brother?”

“An engineer,” Shang Chi said smiling a little. And a former Marine. But he was going to keep that to himself. He had a hunch that your best chance wasn’t going to involve his Father going on a recruiting mission simultaneously.

Wenwu’s frown deepened but he nodded as he watched his son pull a card from his wallet and dial the number.

“Kai-”

“We have a problem,” Shang Chi said quickly, “Y/N is missing.”

“Missing missing or went camping for a couple days?”

“Missing, Missing,” he clarified, “I got a phone call an hour ago and she hung up before we could trace it.”

“Let me call you back-”

And the line went dead before he could say more. “Shit,” he hissed. He wasn’t sure what Pandora’s box had been opened with that phone call. And he hated bumbling around in the dark. He hated not knowing if you were safe. If you were hurt.

“He said he’d call back,” Katy said helpfully, “Maybe he’s calling family.”

“I don’t know if there’s any family to call,” he said pinching the bridge of his nose. He could kick himself for not pressing you for answers. He hadn’t because he’d not been prepared to give you any. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to drag you into his life but. It was looking more and more like he might not have any choice.

When the phone in his hand rang he almost dropped it and had to fumble with it for a second before he could answer, “Kai-”

“I’m assuming you aren’t alone,” the other man said shortly, “I’ll text you the coordinates. Get there as quickly as you can. I’m not sure if we’re going to extract her or clean up the mess. Those idiots have a tiger by the tail and they don’t even know it.”

The call ended and all Shang-Chi could do was stare at the phone for a second, “What the fu-”

“Y/N,” Katy demanded, “Our Y/N? The dirty chai loving, vintage wearing Y/N that cried for 30 minutes at the end of the brave little toaster?”

“Evidently-” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Does anyone else here have a secret badass origin story?” she yelped, “What the hell?”

_________

The coordinates were, So far as anyone could tell, in the middle of nothing. A waste land of tall grass and trails left by herds of cattle in Montana.

But, even without asking he knew he was in the right place. There was a palpable sense of… mayhem in the air. Like the feeling before a nasty storm. Rising anxiety and energy crackling on the wind. Everyone was affected and everyone was quiet.

It wasn’t until they got closer that Shang-Chi and Katy could pick Kai out of the small knot of people. And it was something of a comfort that he looked relaxed. Or at least unconcerned.

“Hey,” Kai said taking a slow drag off his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the sky. He didn’t seem the least Perturbed that Shang-Chi hadn’t come alone. Or that they were all dressed for a fight.

“What-”

“We’re waiting,” Kai said shrugging. “She’s got to take the vortex apart. Then we mop up whatever comes out of it.”

Almost on cue, a Motor Cycle comes roaring over the flat ground as an explosion rattled the ground beneath their feet. “2 hell hounds and at least a baker's dozen in demons, grades 4 to 2.” The words sound like they're coming from you but. You don’t look like you. Skin coated in soot and eyes shining like silver in moonlight. It makes Shang-chi want to shake you.

“Y/N-” He starts, but when you look at him, he doesn’t know what to say. Or where to start.

“You’ll know what it is when you see it,” you say, spitting a mouthful of blood into the grass. “Take it down quickly. Headshots. If it doesn’t go down run for me. Demons don’t play. And, I make better bait. The rest of you are kinda like designer purses. Nice to have but ultimately disposable.”

“Is the vortex closed?” Kai asked grinding the cigarette out with his heel.

“With half the Golden Dagger on the other side of it. Everyone else scattered before I could get anything else for Lea.”

And then there wasn’t time for you to answer anything else. As the small hoard surged into the open field, Kai almost lazily tossed you the other sword he’d had strapped across his back and it was all a blur.

You were a blur. Almost preternaturally fast as you dismembered the bodies that hurtled towards you. It wasn’t until the last demon crackled on the fire that you crumpled like paper, sagging heavily against Shang-Chi who had made his way to your side.

“Shi-” he caught you, if only just. The dead weight taking him by surprise. And the warmth of the blood running over his hands. He could only gasp before the rest of Kai’s team descended like a plague of helpful locusts, loading you quickly onto the nearest stretcher and starting to try and repair the damage.

“I wonder how long she was out,” Kai mused, lighting another cigarette. “Or if she remembers anything. She doesn’t always.”

Shang- Chi opened his mouth to ask, wiping blood off his lip with the back of his hand, but Kai only shook his head. “She told you she’d explain. Let her do it.”

“Will she be okay?” He heard himself ask, but as he watched you loaded into a helicopter, nothing felt real. He’d just watched you dismember a demon. You’d looked at him… But hadn’t seen him. You didn’t look at him like you even knew who he was.

“She will,” Kai answered, looking at him sympathetically. “It takes time… but. The Archive has a vested interest in keeping her alive.”

____________

“Hey.”

“You look like hell.”

“Gee thanks,” you sigh, wincing as you try and sit up straighter. “You should see the other guy.”

“I did,” he said. And he can’t stop the frown when he looks down at your hands. They’re clean now. No trace of the black blood you’d been coated in. You looked like you. Your eyes were the same color that they’d always been.

“I’m sorry that I lied,” you tell him. “That I didn’t come clean when you came back from Ta-lo with Katy. I just… I guess I was still holding out hope that I could be normal.” You look away from him, taking a deep breath. “Becoming an Archive… I always hoped it wouldn’t be me. And then it was. And it was… it was a blessing and a curse.”

“You weren’t born an Archive?”

You shake your head and exhale slowly, “I was born a witch. If Lea and my grandmother can be believed, the most powerful witch born into this family in 400 years. I became An Archive when I was 12.” You swallow hard and take the hand that reaches for yours. “It- I remember the pain. I don’t remember much from before. I remember smoke and screaming. And I remember… I remember hunters and- and- when I woke up I was here.”

Shang-Chi squeezed your hand and reached up to touch your cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb. He’d been ready to be angry. He’d been hurt. But now all he wanted was to pull you closer. “The scars on your back-”

“I’ve been told it’s best that I don’t know,” you murmur. “Lea- She knows but.” You stop and take another deep breath.

For a moment, there is silence. It stretches out around the two of you while Shang-Chi digests those pieces of information and you try to try to put together a coherent explanation. Beyond the door, you can hear voices mingling in the kitchen. Katy. Kai. Lea. Wenwu. Xialing. Cousins. Your Grandmother. Both familiar and strange.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Shang- Chi asked quietly.

“Calling you… I know I told you I’d explain I just- I don’t know how.”

Shang-Chi smiles a little, “It’s probably harder given there’s a lot you don’t remember.”

“A little,” you murmur. “Sometimes, the Archive condescends to tell me what they’ve been doing with my body but other times? It feels a little like waking up from closing down the Karaoke bar.”

“How much time are you missing now?”

“A day. Maybe two. I’m not sure.”

“What’s the longest time span you don’t remember?”

“Close to a year,” you sigh. “If my physical body is in danger, The Archive will take the driver’s seat until the danger has passed OR It’s deemed that I can handle it on my own… Now that I’m older and I’ve grown into the powers I was given I spend a lot more time driving.”

“Even when you’re with me?”

“The Archive seems to think it can trust you. Though if it’s just with my physical body or with the things we know I’m not sure. Sometimes it views those things as one and the same.”

“Do you- I mean. When we’re alone?”

“You mean when we’re having sex?” The blush that blooms over his cheeks makes you smile a little. “I mean. The Archive lives in my head. Sometimes it has notes though… I don’t know how it would know-”

“Notes?”

You nod and roll your eyes. And even if he’s confused and a little offended, he can’t help but chuckle, “What kind of notes?”

“Ugh-” you groan, “No. We’re not humoring the freeloader in my head.”

[cactus-joke]

the thing i will never wrap my head around is introducing sylvie as a frankenloki & then giving her absolutely no depth despite her being the key protagonist of season 1... like mike must hate women for the fact that

1) all the tva women of color are sidelined immediately (at least the two w the most prominent & interesting roles/backgrounds) for a white ladies development

2) you can count all the tva lady agents we see onscreen w one hand

3) frankenloki aka sylvie has a bunch of gaps for a character like where’d she get blonde hair dye. if ure hellbent on revenge why are u making stops at wallmart 2 get a box of hair bleach. where’d she get asgardian leather but SPECIFICALLY for her top (she’s wearing baggy pants & combat boots w that ensemble??? which as i say it also sounds like those corny wattpad “put my hair in a messy bun, wore my combat boots” fanfic outfits 😭), why and how did she get the AoA loki horns, she didn’t have them when she was taken. if she hates the loki association why’s she wearing the horns & the color green which is... the biggest target to be perceived as loki

4) if she’s an important part of the self love metaphor romance why does she always make this face “😐🤨🤢😐🤨😐” when loki talks (berating him & betraying him in the end aside ofc!)

5) why do we not know her nexus event? why do we not know why she chose the name sylvie? why does she have no prominent character traits outside of having a vagina? why is she cis? why did she get taken at the tender age of an elementary schooler but not when she was born if her crime was being born a girl?

6) has mike waldron ever met, spoken to, or seen a woman? has he engaged in critical, intelligent conversation with anyone, really?

7) can i be emotionally compensated by disney for simultaneously the most BORING (how do you make.. the god of mischief & tricks... boring is beyond me) and convoluted overstuffed show for wasting my time?

I don't know that Mike hates women, but I do think, based on his interviews and the resulting product he made, that:

1) It was certainly a choice to make the two prominent black female characters slaves to a fascist organization and one essentially a leader of it. A choice I don't think anyone involved in creating this show spent a second to think about.

I don't think they were necessarily sidelined on purpose, however. I just think it's an inevitable by-product of the show's terrible pacing and even worse writing. That scene one between B-15 and Renslayer, a scene I think was ultimately a waste of time, made me think that they probably did want to highlight at least those two characters on their own merit. They failed, of course, in the end, and with the set-up I think the intention or lack of intention doesn't really matter since we get what we get, you know?

It's not really a shinning example of giving your characters of color time and care, either, but I do have to highlight B-15's moment of doubt, a scene I think Wunmi Mosaku absolutely killed (seriously, everyone needs to check out her other work, she is effort and talent personified.).

Besides that, if you ask me, no character in this show has any real development anyway, including Sylvie. It is an uneven display of screen-time because obviously she's a main over everyone else but, like, can it even be said that Sylvie particularly benefited from it? I don't really think so. As you said, she has no depth, she is just an empty girlboss fantasy, and the diversity in general in this show feels empty to me.

2) I didn't really even want more TVA foot soldiers to be women. It wouldn't be a diversity win so much as just more empty pandering and Marvel's typical (military) propaganda fuel.

Anyway, I'd like to highlight some youtube creators of color who make great in-depth videos on this issue:

Khadija Mbowe: Color-blind vs. Identity-conscious casting and examining Hamilton and Malcom & Marie

Town of Tawiah: Performative Diversity and Colorism in Film | Dear White People Review, My Wife & Kids,HTGAWM & More

Cheyenne Lin: GOOD Representation Matters | Colorism and Casting

There's obviously way more, but these videos are a good starting point to expand on this topic from people who know what they're talking about. I put a link to their videos while the link on their names will lead you to their respective channels.

3) Sylvie's whole appearance is bullshit from the get-go. They deliberately used comic book references on her to confuse us and make their dumbshit twist of: oh, see, she actually is a Loki variant!

I remember seeing a post essentially saying whoever thinks Sylvie is a Loki variant with 100% certainty is media illiterate lmao, so I guess it worked on some people.

So, you know, IMO, it doesn't matter that it doesn't make sense for her to wear Loki's signature colors and the iconic AoA head-wear, she just does because fuck you.

Also, "if ure hellbent on revenge why are u making stops at wallmart 2 get a box of hair bleach." lmaooo - she just wanted to be her own person, you know, visually, but only with her hair and nothing else :)

4) Sylvie so very clearly doesn't even like Loki all that much, certainly not as much as he likes her (she is a girlboss after all, "she's got shit to do!"). It would be funny if it wasn't tragic. I do feel bad for Larry from accounting :(

5) I'm guessing we don't know her nexus event because they kinda never bothered to define what it was and they don't care. Maybe Renslayer saying she doesn't remember her nexus event was supposed to be this moment of like cold truth, or an attempt to hurt Sylvie because she knows but won't tell her, or, you know... actually, who cares.

6) I think Mike has spoken to women and I think he's had plenty of intelligent and critical conversations at his level. Which is a relative zero to a generous one. Perhaps two on a good day.

Idk though, jokes aside, his writing on this series is childish and lazy, his view of Loki is boring and reductive, his original script he used for this show is absolute shit, and that's all I can really say for sure.

7) I wish. The show really is boring when it isn't actively infuriating. It still boggles my mind how this mess even happened. Like, I knew the show would be bad, but this bad? Man oh man.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterFour

Read on AO3 (EN) ///// Ler no AO3 (PT)

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit violence

Words so far: +19,998k (did not include this chapter)

Marks: @mionemymind​

When you return to the campfire, you laugh at the image of Bucky trying to learn to play guitar with Maria. He sounds like a disaster, squeezing the strings hard, or following the instructions in a way that is completely contrary to what she tells him. Maria however seems to be a very patient teacher, and when you sit around the campfire, you both exchange a knowledgeable look, where you were thanking her for the time with Carol

Nat hands you a beer, and remembering the three glasses of whiskey you had earlier, you grimace at her, saying that any more and you would be tripping. She laughs and says that your drunk version could entertain the party.

You spend several minutes talking and laughing, Pietro joins you shortly afterwards, bringing dominoes. He tries to hint that you should borrow your new set of cards, but you just signal that he was forbidden to mention poker to you indefinitely. Nat wins two games in a row, laughing when you and Pietro let out a grumble of dissatisfaction, and then Pietro hints that she was cheating, which makes her angry enough to try to hit him with the board. You get up to get more beer, laughing lightly as you leave your bickering friends behind.

You should be used to the habit of your gaze always searching for Wanda when she's not in your line of sight, but you always mentally reprimand yourself for doing so. You imagine that you used to disguise it better, seeing the look of malice that Thor casts when he sees you clearly looking for something. You think about disguising it, pretending that you had dropped something, but honestly, what's the point of pretending. He raises his glass in one direction, signaling the corner near Steve's tent, and you finally find it. Wanda and Monica are working together to set up Bucky's old radio, you realize as you watch them carry a small table with the piece of equipment on top.

Taking a long sip of your beer, you allow yourself to admire Wanda for the seconds it takes you to reach her. You remember how beautiful she looked in her dress, but you can't help thinking how irresistible she looks in her usual clothes, work pants and standard shirt, the suspenders hanging loosely against her waist, while the spurs attached to her boot scuff lightly on the grass as she walks. You don't think much about it, but you notice the open buttons of her shirt, her collarbone exposed. You imagine that she might have felt hot after searching for the radio in the warehouse wagon, and you know that if she needs it, you will offer her your coat.

Wanda smiles at you when she sees you coming close, you shyly reciprocate.

- We thought we might dance a bit. - She says as soon as you reach her. Monica approaches with batteries in her hands.

- I'll be happy to look. - You joke, and Wanda looks at you with a mixture of seriousness and amusement.

- No way, the birthday girl dances with everyone. - She warns, raising a finger at you. You laugh, and feeling very confident after all that drinking, you don't think much and start letting the words flow out of your mouth.

- I just wanted to dance with you. - You confess amidst a smile, Wanda looks surprised, but smiles with a slightly flushed face. The sound of the radio catches both of your attention, breaking the moment.

The sound attracts other members of the gang, and before long they are almost all - with the exception of Maria and Thor, who seem engaged in a very heated debate about the best breeds of horse - together in the area of Steve's stall.

- Does anyone have a choice of music? - Monica asks as she fiddles with the buttons on the radio, turning up the volume, the sound is pleasantly loud in the room

- Anything that you can dance to. - Pietro suggested, and when the first sounds of the chosen melody began, he excitedly took Nat by the hand. She laughed, pushing him lightly by the shoulders.

- It's not polite to pull a lady along, boy! - You heard her say. - Ask if I want to dance first.

- Would you like to dance with me, Natasha? - Pietro asked, bowing dramatically, as if he were making a reference. Nat laughed.

- Of course not, go bother the other ladies. - She denied this humorously, and Pietro pretended to be offended. He walked towards Monica and held out his hand, repeating the invitation in a gentler manner. The woman smiled before accepting, and as their dance began, others soon joined in. You watched fondly as Bucky pushed his shoulder against Steve's slightly, an amused expression on his face. Steve put the beer on the counter and extended his hand to his friend, who accepted, and they began to dance. Peggy invited Potts, and they joined the group. Nat walked over to you and Wanda, a mischievous smile on her face. You were about to offer to dance with her, but she was quick to say.

- I'll take this. - She said as she grabbed the beer you were carrying.

- Are you sure you don't want to...

- You know very well that I don't dance. - She interrupts you. - Besides, you're both dying to dance together.

Nat winked at you before walking away, and you felt your face heat up. Turning to Wanda, you found her already looking at you. You smiled and she offered her hand to you, inviting you to dance. You shifted your weight between your feet before accepting.

- I can't dance, Wands. - You whisper as you come closer. Wanda just smiles at you tenderly.

-Follow my lead then. - She answers in the same tone, interlacing your hands. With her other hand, she grabs your free forearm, bringing it up to her own shoulder, showing you where to place it. You begin to look down at your own feet in anticipation, and Wanda places a finger on your chin, slowly lifting your face to make you look into her eyes. - You must look into your partner's eyes.

- But what if I step on your feet? - you ask half breathless at the intensity of her gaze.

- Don't worry, darling. Just breathe. - She assures you, and you feel her hand around your waist. 

And then her body moves, and you focus on following. You count your steps mentally, and try to focus on not stepping on Wanda's feet. It is very hard to concentrate on anything with emerald eyes staring at you with intensity, and the smell of Wanda that seems to overpower all your senses. You are nervous, and your body is tense. You feel guilty as you notice Wanda's frown due to your posture.

- Relax, Y/N. - She whispers tenderly. - It's just me.

You smile, but find it difficult to obey as you look at her. So you lean your face against your hand on Wanda's shoulder. You miss seeing her face, but the position is also very good. She brings your bodies a little closer together, and you get used to the warmth of having her so close with ease. You stay like this, rocking together in an almost hug, your hands intertwined as the hand on your back goes down a little, and you let your gaze wander around.

If you thought you were dancing too close together, those thoughts vanish the moment you see Steve and Bucky, so tightly glued together that there is no space between their bodies. Monica and Pietro seem to be the only ones who are dancing further apart, yet they are very close. As the melody comes to an end, you hear the other members laughing, and Pietro goes towards the radio to change the music while you slowly separate from Wanda. She doesn't let go of your hand, however, and nods for you to follow her. You let yourself be pulled in the opposite direction from the hut area, to a more secluded corner among the trees. As you exit, Nat gives you a mischievous look that makes you blush.

When you were completely hidden from the rest of the camp, Wanda stopped, she looked nervous, shifting her weight between her feet as she let go of your hand. You looked at her curiously.

- I wanted to give you your present. - Wanda said, looking around as if searching for something. She bent down quickly to grab something behind a broken log.

She walked over to you with a mischievous expression. She handed over the package, and maybe it was the alcohol, but you found her fingers lingering on yours as she did so.

A dark wooden box was placed in your hands, and you frowned curiously, wondering what was inside. In fact, the box was so beautiful that you would be very pleased if it were empty.

You opened the clasp, holding your breath in surprise as you noticed the contents. A revolver gleamed against your eyes. You knew very well what kind. It was the Lemat revolver you had wanted to buy on your one and only trip to Saint Denis with Wanda and Pietro. You joked that one day you would have enough money for weapons like that, without having to steal, as your gaze lingered on the item. You never imagined that Wanda would remember this. 

With the tips of your finger, you touched the details that were drawn into the metal of the gun, smiling as you noticed the figure of a wolf carved into the tip. The lone wolf was your nickname as a child, Steve used to call you that whenever you were angry and you needed to travel, you always walked several meters ahead of him, like "a lone wolf".

Feeling your emotions too close to overpowering you, you swallowed the urge to cry as you felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, how much attention Wanda had on you to think about the present. The redhead seemed anxious to know if you had enjoyed it, but you kept your face impassive as you looked at her. 

You stowed the gun back in its case, and held it in one hand while reaching down with the other for your old revolver hanging from your waistband. Removing the gun from its holster, you checked that it was properly locked before throwing it on the grass. Wanda watched you intently, frowning slightly in confusion, but you didn't speak. 

In no hurry, you removed your new gun from the box, taking one last look at it before putting it in its holster. Getting used to the weight as you closed your eyes for a moment.

Then you bent down quietly, and put the box down, finally looking at Wanda. She blinked at you in anticipation, and you bit your lip as you ran your gaze across her face. Your mind racing on so many possibilities of how you could return the gift. The thoughts were innocent at first, but you would blame the alcohol for the direction they took next.

- Did you like it? - She asked without holding back, and you sighed without answering, which seemed to make her insecure.

- I'm thinking about how to repay something like that. - You answered mysteriously, and Wanda let out a nervous laugh, clearly affected by the intensity of your eyes.

- You don't have to. - She says, but you only disagree with a nod, and then she holds her breath as you approach. 

- I want to. - You speak in a low tone, and when your faces are inches apart, you can only stare at her mouth. - Good girls should be rewarded.

You almost stumble with shock when Pietro's voice interrupts the moment. He mumbles apologies as you turn away from Wanda, but then you really begin to understand what he said:

- He's here. Stephen is back! - He cheerfully affirms by waving for you two to go back to the camp. He runs towards the tents, and you turn to Wanda, but she just looks at you intensely, coming up to you and giving you a quick kiss on the corner of your cheek, very close to your mouth, before running after her brother.

You rush to grab the box and the pistol at your feet before running after them.

With Stephen's sudden return to the gang, everyone's mood seemed to improve considerably. And you felt much better knowing that he would treat Bruce, since he had always been the camp doctor.

It has been three days since you almost kissed Wanda in the forest in thanks for the gun you got as a gift. Every time you remember it you feel a wave of shame fill your body, and maybe a little guilt, for having been careless enough to drink to the point of ignoring the minimum of common sense. With this feeling, you had spent the last few days accepting all sorts of camp tasks, to keep yourself busy and unavailable as much as possible to talk about what had occurred. At every moment when your gaze met Wanda's, whether it was between carrying hay to the horse area, or during meals, you made sure to look away while you found a way to escape somewhere else.

As the date approached for the bank heist to take place, you could almost touch in the air the anxiety of those who would participate. Fortunately Thor was back in business and insisted that he would participate in the ambush. Bucky had already secured all the necessary weaponry, and Peggy confirmed that she was working with the final tweaks of the plan. Pietro and Nat went to Valentine the day before and discovered that the workers from the oil plant were all already in town, which seemed to be the last missing piece of the plan. Things seemed to be conspiring in your favor when it came to avoiding Wanda, since she had been as busy as you are, and had not even returned from the buffalo hunt she went on together with Thor and Stephen. 

In the late afternoon, you returned to your tent feeling exhausted from having spent all day organizing the ammunition wagon, as one of your punishments for the Limpany shooting. Bucky was kind enough to sit next to you while he cleaned some weapons, and when he was done, he practiced a bit of guitar playing.

You threw yourself on the bed, groaning against the pillow. Fortunately, your shoulder was practically healed by now, and you didn't need any more bandages. You heard someone huffing in the doorway, so you opened one of your eyes lazily, and caught sight of Nat standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a suggestive look on her face.

- You know, I'm surprised at how well you're holding up. - She says, and you close your eyes, too tired to puzzle. Seeing your lack of interest, she gives you a wry smile, thinking how stubborn you are when you want to be. - I thought you would only last a day.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Your voice was muffled against the pillow, but you kept your eyes closed and your face against the fabric. It was so soft.

- In fact, Pietro and I bet that you wouldn't go two days without talking to each other. I'm only bringing this up because I'm losing the bet. - You felt your stomach turn when you finally understood what she said. But not wanting to give her the taste of being right, you just let out an impatient grunt against the pillow, which made Nat laugh instead of pushing her away. - Pietro bet that you would be stubborn enough to hold out until Wanda pushed you off your horse, but I thought you wouldn't go two days without talking to the redhead. You know I don't like to lose.

- Nobody likes to lose. - You retorted. - That's the whole point of betting. 

She stood with her arms crossed as you lifted your face from the bed, and then you adjusted yourself to sit up on the mattress. Seeing your tired expression, Nat assumed a worried look.

- What is happening to you?

You thought you were going to cry. But you only smoothed your hair and gave her a sad smile. She closed your tent and sat down beside you on the bed.

- I almost kissed her on my birthday. - You confess with a lost look in your eyes.

- Isn't that a good thing?

- I was drunk. - You retorted. - I can't believe I was going to grab her in the middle of the forest. That's so scary.

Nat watched you sink your face in your hands, and she began to play with your hair, trying to calm you down.

- You talk as if you were some unknown drunk who chased Wanda into the woods. - She says in an almost amused tone. - I really don't understand how your head comes to such conclusions.

- I just didn't want it to be like that. - You say, moving your fingers nervously. - I don't know what I really wanted. Maybe I wanted it to be special.

- My God, you are so corny. - Nat sneered, but there was no malice in her tone. She braided your hair loosely, and then held out your hand. - I really think that you two are made for each other. And that no matter where it happens or how, Wanda will enjoy your first kiss. 

- And you say that I'm the one who's corny. - You joke, and Nat nudges your shoulder lightly, laughing softly. 

- Oh, but you are indeed. - She replies. - I always thought that you've been secretly dating for years.

You groaned uncomfortably, Nat laughed at your expression.

- I brought something for you. - She says after a moment of silence. Only then you notice that she was carrying something in her pants pocket, and she moves on the bed to pick it up. She hands you a holster. - I hear you have two revolvers now. You can have my extra case.

You smiled, thanking her. Nat whispered a " Don't mention it" before kissing you on the forehead and leaving. Without getting out of bed, you reached for your belt hanging from the chair on your desk and slipped the holster you had earned onto the front of the bed. You were happy to know that you could carry two weapons now. 

Putting your belt back on the chair, you yawned, deciding to get some sleep.

It seemed like a weekend, you thought as you took a sip of coffee, which you almost spit out when you tasted the bitterness. Saloons weren't exactly the best place to get drinks like this, and since you were avoiding alcohol, it was either bitter coffee or water. You began to think that water was the better option.

Steve had sent you to Valentine to get uniforms from the factory, or more accurately, steal uniforms. Peggy had made one last adjustment to the plan, and you found out that you would need to infiltrate the factory if you wanted information about the safe where the money was going to be. Pietro would be the one to infiltrate the place, and since he was the fastest rider, he would have to get out of there as fast as he could to let Peggy know which was the correct safe. You weren't going to start any unnecessary gunfire, so anything that could be done in silence, would be.

You had been waiting for the two clearly inebriated men to finish playing to follow them, and that had been for about two hours. You sighed without patience, and then walked over to the table, trying to sound as friendly as possible when you joined the game. 

If you bankrupted them in the game, they would have no choice but to leave the table, you thought as you received your cards from the dealer. 

You played carefully but objectively, remembering all the tactics that Fury taught you. In less than an hour of play, you had already defeated one of them. But because you were too focused on the game, you didn't notice the threatening posture the loser assumed. 

When you finally defeated the second one, the men were not the slightest bit pleased. You stumbled backwards when one of them pushed you against the counter. 

- I don't like being robbed, girl. - Said the brown-haired man, he had a threatening expression on his face, and you felt quite intimate as he had a knife pressed to your throat.

-A bad loser I see. - You sneer, and he blinks angrily. But then there is a gun pointed at the man's forehead and the grip of the knife on your throat loosens. The bartender doesn't seem willing to witness a murder in his bar. You know his name is Tom, and you thank him softly when he asks the men to leave the bar. But your relief is short-lived, for as you walk out, they are waiting for you outside.

- I want my money back, whore! - One of them shouts and you take a few steps back, your boots clattering in the mud of the road.

- Come on fellas, I won fair and square. - You try to argue, and then you see the man draw his knife at you again. Impatient, you lower your hand to the holster, and the other man imitates the movement. You had no intention of ending up in a duel when you woke up this morning, but here you were.

The man with the knife stepped aside, clearing the shooting area for his friend. You let out a sigh, your hand gripping the revolver. Your gaze focused on the man in front of you, a few steps away. It was a risky duel, and you hoped he was as bad at aiming as he was at poker. 

A moment passed, and then you grabbed your gun and fired. Fortunately, faster than your opponent, who fell to the ground with a thud. The other man was in a state of shock as you stood there, smoke billowing from the tip of your revolver. You barely had time to normalize your breathing when the other man lunged at you with knife in hand. You fired twice, and watched the expression of pure shock as he staggered back, and then fell over dead. You felt a slight burning sensation on your cheek, indicating that he had cut you, but you barely had time to process the two murders when you felt yourself being pulled away. 

Valentine's sheriff seemed more interested in showing service than actually helping anyone, and he didn't believe or care that it might have been self-defense when he threw you into one of the jail cells, which was only a few yards from the saloon.

There was only one other man in the jail, locked up in the cell across from yours. An arrogant-looking lady called the sheriff through the back doors, and he left you two alone. You tried to see where your guns were kept, but could not.

- He keeps them inside that cabinet, on the top shelf. - The man said, and you turned your face toward him. - And the key to the cells is near the door.

- Steve is going to kill me. - You grumble before sitting down on the floor, your legs stretched out on the ground.

You both remain silent for several moments, until the sheriff returns. He has a lipstick stain on his shirt, and you roll your eyes.

- Wilson, great news for you. - says the sheriff walking to the cell opposite yours. The prisoner has a serious look on his face. - I finally got a carriage for Sisika, they will pick you up tomorrow morning.

Wilson ducked his head and clenched his fists, while the sheriff let out a wicked chuckle. 

- If I'm lucky, they'll take you too, cutie. - Said the sheriff looking at you, but you didn't bother to answer.

You tried not to panic at the thought of a federal penitentiary. You hated having to depend on anyone, but you really hoped that your friends would notice your absence and come to your aid.

Looking at your fellow prisoner, you avoided feeling sorry for the downcast expression he acquired, after all you didn't know what he had done to be here. Still, you sympathized with him; it wasn't easy to receive news like that.

Trying to get some idea of what to do, you closed your eyes, burying your head in your knees. But in the end, you just fell asleep.

You dreamed of long red hair, and woke in a jolt, banging your head against the small shelf that held the cell bed. Massaging the spot, you looked forward, surprised to see Wilson signaling you to be quiet.

You ran your gaze around and widened your eyes as you noticed the figure of Monica, silently stealing the key to the cell. The sheriff was too distracted by her cleavage to notice, and you really hated this man with each passing second. Monica pretended to laugh, holding the sheriff's arm, and finally grabbing the key. She asked the officer to go somewhere more private, that she would like to show him something, and when he took her to the backdoors, she handed the cell key to you through the bars.

Quickly freeing yourself, you ran to the weapons locker, looking for your holster. Duly armed, you turned toward Wilson's cell.

- I hope I don't regret this. - You grumble as you release him. He nods in thanks, shaking your hand. And then he runs to the gun cabinet and grabs what you believe to be his.

You hear a noise and both of you turn toward the back door. Through the window you can see Monica struggling with the sheriff, who seems to want to force a kiss. You feel your chest bubbling with anger and rush outside. Before you can do anything, someone shoots the sheriff, who falls to the ground.

You walk over to Monica, who assures you that she is fine, just a little out of shape from being out of a fight for so long. You hug her in thanks before you run away from the scene, she points out where the horses are, and you are surprised to notice that Wilson is still with you.

- My name is Sam. - The man says. - I have nowhere to go.

You and Monica exchange a look, and then she offers her hand to help him get on her own horse. 

- Steve will take care of this. - She says before you ride out of town. 

When you arrive, you let out an exclamation that makes Monica and Sam look at you curiously.

- I didn't get the fucking uniform. - You say, and Monica looks at you with a mischievous smile. She reaches into her own horse's saddlebag and pulls out the folded uniform set. 

- It's easier to steal when they're dead. - She comments, and you look at her with a mixture of pride and surprise. You think that she and Pietro really are made for each other, blessed sticky fingers.

As they enter, you assure the others that you were fine, and you discover that Monica just told them that you had had complications and needed some help. She tells you that she overheard two merchants leaving Valentine commenting on the shooting while she was hunting rabbits, and when she told the rest of the camp, she didn't mention that you might have been shot. 

When the others see Sam, they seem apprehensive about having a stranger in camp, but Steve asks to talk to him privately in his tent. You knew that he would invite Sam to join you as soon as he knew that he helped Monica.

You walk back to your tent, immediately wanting to take a shower. Then your exit is blocked by Wanda looking quite annoyed. You take a step back, shocked by the sudden presence.

- You are avoiding me. - she accuses, looking hurt. Honestly, you don't feel much like having this conversation right now, and considering that you almost died a few hours ago, you just want to take a shower.

- I've just been busy. - You retort, holding her gaze.

- Why are you lying?

You bite your tongue hard to avoid smiling. Wanda is ridiculously beautiful, it's so unfair that you can't get annoyed with her. Completely oblivious to your internal conflict, she has an accusing expression, but the glint in her eyes shows that she is upset, hurt that you are lying to her so blatantly.

- Look, I almost died twice today and was arrested, I would like to take a shower before embarking on another conflict.

Her expression changed to concern.

- What do you mean you almost died? - She questioned and her gaze ran over your face, and when she noticed the dried wound upon your cheek, she raised her hand quickly, her touch electrifying your whole body at the same speed that made you relax more than any hot bath. - What happened?

- I won at poker. - You joked, fighting the urge to close your eyes at her touch. Wanda frowned and lowered her hands. - It was a misunderstanding. Monica saved my ass and now I'm here. 

- You don't seem to be telling me anything anymore. - She said with a serious look on her face, and you swallowed hard, guilt clutching your stomach. And you spent too long thinking about what to say, that you miss your chance. Wanda gave you one last hurt look, before saying, "Have a nice bath," and left your tent. You kept staring for minutes at where you saw her last.

You were very angry when you returned to your room, mumbling disconnected words as you threw yourself on your bed, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. You had the choice of getting up and apologizing, explaining to Wanda that you just felt insecure, or staying in your bed and whining, so of course you didn't get up.

Refusing to cry, you tried to look for something to do that would get the image of Wanda's hurt look out of your head. You thought about cleaning your weapons, but then you remembered that one of them was the revolver you had received as a gift, so you gave up the idea.

Running your eyes around the room, you tried to find something else, your eyes lingered on your bedside table, a picture of you, Wanda, Pietro, Monica and Nat, when you were younger, and Steve insisted that he would like to have a picture of the camp kids. You must have been about ten years old, and you were dressed in your best clothes, a bandage on your forehead covering up a fight wound.Pietro had one arm on your shoulders and one on Wanda's, he had a toothless smile on his face, his front baby teeth had fallen out shortly before that photo.  Nat and Monica were the tallest, and stood one at each end. Even though it was black and white, you remembered the blue jacket that you yourself had stolen as a present for Nat. 

You looked away from the photo quickly, letting out an impatient sigh. Even trying, you couldn't stop thinking about Wanda, the marks of her presence all over your life. You decided it was best to look for something to do outside your tent.

You noticed Doctor Stephen coming out of Bruce's tent when you left yours. He looked happy, and you felt your chest fill with hope that Bruce was better.

Walking over to Stephen, you greeted him. 

- Ah, look at you, Y/N. - He replied as he put away his medical equipment inside his own tent. - You're growing up fast.

You looked down at the ground blankly.

- I guess so. 

Stephen finished arranging his own things, and when he turned to you, he signaled for you to accompany him to the campfire area.

- You seem to want to ask me something. - He says as he sits down, pouring himself a coffee pen, which was always available at the campfire.

- I just wanted to see how Bruce was doing. 

- Much better. - he says. - Soon he will return to his duties and I will go back to Saint Denis.

You nodded, slightly disappointed that Stephen was leaving, but glad that Bruce was better. They shared the role of camp doctor, but Stephen hardly ever stayed with you, saying he had business of his own to attend to in Saint Denis. You, Wanda and Pietro were the only ones who knew that he had a family waiting for him there.

- But I feel that's not what you want to talk about. - He says after a moment, and you frown. At your expression, he lets out a giggle, and puts his mug down, turning to you with a gentle expression. - You can ask me about Wanda.

You blink, looking away. Stephen was like a mentor to Wanda, and you imagined it would be awkward, to say the least, to talk to him about it. But knowing that he had just returned from a hunt with her and Thor, he had probably noticed something in her behavior, being the observer that he is.

- I think I might have hurt her. - You say, and he nods slightly.

- I thought she looked more angry than hurt. - He says almost in a mocking tone, and you run your hands through your hair.

- Hurt or angry, I fucked up. 

- That is true.

Stephen's tone is playful, and you smile while rolling your eyes. He had always been more relaxed about this kind of subject than you are. 

- Wanda has mentioned that you are avoiding her. - he says after a moment. - She was... distracted during the hunt.

- Yeah, I was running away. - You grumble, looking down at the ground feeling embarrassed. He lets out a sigh, and reaches his hand out to your knee.

- I know how much you care about her, child. - he says. - Ever since you were little, you've been inseparable. So I don't understand your hesitation.

You let out a sad sigh, trying to smile at Stephen.

- I don't think I am what she deserves. - You confess and he frowns. You keep talking, believing that if you don't say things now, you won't say them anymore. - I just... She's so incredible. She' s so strong and so smart, and so so good. She deserves someone who can give her more than a tent on the ground or a campfire. 

Stephen raises his hand to lift your face, making you look at him.

- Do you really believe that? - He asks seriously, but his eyes are tender. He doesn't wait for you to answer. - Listen to me for a moment, will you? I won't speak for Wanda, I never could. What I can assure you is that you are an extraordinary young woman. You are brave and admirably loyal. And most important, is the way you love Wanda with vehemence and devotion. There is no one who deserves her more than you.

You nodded, feeling the tears streaming down your face. Stephen smiled, and wiped them away, moving closer to place a kiss on your forehead. 

- I don't want to hear you say things like that about yourself, okay? - He asks in a serious tone, and waits for you to agree. 

- I promise I won't. - You say, and he nudges you lightly on the nose, making you laugh before turning away, going back to drinking his coffee. He takes a sip, and you are silent for a moment, before he holds up his finger as if he has an idea, and turns to you, with an expression somewhere between humorous and serious.

- Now try to apologize to Wanda. She gets very annoyed when she is mad at you.

You laugh lightly, but then realize that he is telling you to do this now. He continues to stare at you, and you sigh before standing up. Stephen lifts his pen lightly wishing you good luck and you turn toward Wanda's tent.

But your steps are interrupted by Nat, who has a concerned expression on her face. You frown, but she just signals for you to follow her towards Steve's tent.

- We have a problem. - Steve announces as soon as you arrive, he is leaning both hands against the center table, a map stretched out in front of him. 

- What's wrong? - you ask, and then feel nervous as you notice Wanda standing at the other end of the tent next to Pietro. You look away quickly.

- The O'Driscolls are drunk idiots, that's the problem. - Steve replied, looking stressed. He apologized a second later for his harsh manner, and then he straightened his posture. - Peggy just got back from town, she found out that some O'Driscolls were killed at the oil plant, trying to steal masonry titles. One of them was drunk enough to tell them that they were planning to steal the money from the land purchase.

- Oh, shit. - You grumbled. - Any chance this won't get to Stark?

- Unfortunately it already has. - Steve replied with his arms crossed. - The mess happened two days ago. And the local guards sent a carriage to Saint Denis the same day. Peggy spoke to our contact at the bank, and Stark cancelled the deposit.

- Will he no longer buy the land? - you asked.

- Oh, he is. Only the money will be transferred by train. - Steve clarified, and then he took a pen and started to draw a route on the map on the table. - Which means that we are going to change the route completely.

- At least now we are not going to break into a bank. - Nat remarked softly to you, and you smiled at her. 

- We will have two chances to access the money. - Steve explained as he finished scratching out the map. You notice that he also circles two points. - Stark will bring the money in a carriage that will leave his estate somewhere in the Cumberland Forest, but no one knows from where exactly. Besides, he has his own personal guard, and even if we could find out where his house is, it would still be a pain in the ass to get in there. 

- I imagine that this carriage will be extremely well protected too. - Pietro commented, and Steve just nodded in agreement.

- Our first option is a bit risky, but it might work if we were fast enough. - Steve said. - When Stark negotiates the purchase, he will need to show the money to the real estate agents, and the safe will either be inside one of the carriages for the seller to confirm the amount, or the safe will be carried to one of the factory rooms for counting. 

- If we try to steal the safe from inside the factory, we will face twice as many guns. - Said Nat with crossed arms, Steve nodded in agreement.

- Exactly, Natasha. Our only advantage would be for Pietro to infiltrate as an employee and get us inside quietly.

- Not a chance! - You say, and Steve frowns. - You won't send Pietro alone. One mistake and he would have more than a hundred guns pointed at him. It's too dangerous.

Pietro stared at you in slight surprise, looking embarrassed that you had stood up to Steve for him. Wanda had a look in her eyes that you couldn't decipher.

- Yes, you're right. - Steve said after a moment. - We only have one other option left then. We'll steal the money when it's transferred to the train.

- Train? - asks Maria from the other corner of the tent. - But there are no stations in the area.

- Ah, yes. But everything works for those who have money. - Bucky said with irony. Steve smiled before explaining: 

- Stark has asked that the checkpoint in the Heartlands area be reactivated. It's near the factories, and they're going to take the safe by carriage there. - He marked on the map the location. - The train will only stop here and then go straight to Saint Denis.

- We always end up stealing a train. - You whispered to Nat, who smiled with amusement.

- We don't know how many guards will board the train, however, the number will be smaller than if we take on all the guards at the factory plus Stark's guards.

- Let's go over the final arrangement of the plan then. - Peggy announced. - We're going to need more people to stay on board, especially now that we're going to jump on a moving train. - Peggy explained with a light irony that drew laughter from everyone. She took a small notebook from her jacket, where you guessed she had organized the names and functions, before speaking again. - Steve and I ride together to the meeting point in the negotiation area, where we will be able to see Stark's carriage on its way. Thor and Bucky stand further away, each in a different direction, to signal if there is another guard formation. Meanwhile, Nat and Monica stand guard at the location where we will board the train. Y/N, Pietro and Wanda wait a little ahead, to signal when the train is coming and you find the ideal spot to jump off without being seen by the guards. We will ride to you as soon as the train leaves.

- Does anyone have any questions? - said Steve looking at everyone. You were going over the plan mentally so you didn't say anything.

- When we get on the train, who will take care of our horses? - asked Nat, leaning slightly against you.

- Actually, I suggest you split up the mounts. It will be faster to call the horses back if you have fewer. We can have them follow the train as well.  - Peggy said, and then she pointed her fingers around the gang members, as if she were counting. - Let's see, me, Bucky, Steve and Thor will be on our own horses. Nat and Monica can ride together, and so can the twins. 

- I guess that's all. - Steve announced. - Rest, and avoid alcohol tonight. We'll ride tomorrow.

You began to feel slightly anxious as soon as you left the tent. Changing plans on the eve of a strike was a very dangerous thing. Nat put an arm around your shoulders, while you walked outside.

- Ready to rob a train, old friend? - she said in a playful and ironic tone, you laughed.

- Always. - You replied in the same tone. Nat waved you goodnight before leaving towards her tent, and you were walking towards yours, but then you bit your lip and turned on your heel, heading towards Pietro and Wanda's tent.

Pietro had just come in when you arrived, and Wanda was already sitting on her bed. He smiled at you.

- Honey, have you come to wish me good luck? - He teased, throwing his arms around you. You pushed him away, making him laugh.

- I wanted to...

- Oh, I know just what you wanted. - He interrupted, pretending to be hurt as he raised a hand to his chest, dramatizing. - I am so dedicated to this friendship and you don't even come to see me or say good night!

You frown with mock amusement, watching Pietro pretend to have a crying face. He pushes you slightly to get out of the tent.

- I want a divorce, Y/N. - He announces dramatically. - You may have Wanda, but the house is mine!

You hold back a laugh as you nudge him in the chest. He just laughs and turns around, walking toward the fire.

A smile plays on Wanda's lips as you turn around, you take a deep breath before entering the tent, and then you sit down on Pietro's bed, facing the redhead. She looks down at the floor, and you let your gaze wander over her face.

It takes a moment, but Wanda finally looks into your eyes, and you hold her gaze. As you look at each other, you feel your heart race, but you don't mind.

- Hi. - You sigh breathlessly after a moment. Wanda's gaze wavers.

- Hi. - She says without smiling, her gaze falls back to the ground.

You bite the inside of your cheek, but before you can think of what to say next, Wanda speaks again, her expression serious.

- Thank you for standing up for Pietro. - You blink in confusion, but Wanda continues. - About the situation at the factory.

- No problem. - Your voice comes out a little hoarse, and you cough before you speak again. - I don't think they'd make him go by himself anyway.

- Still, thank you. - she says, and you nod. Wanda moves her hands nervously. - Do you want anything, I'm going to sleep already…

- I want to apologize. - You interrupt her, and she looks at you quickly. You look away for a second, feeling embarrassed. But knowing that apologies should be made with an eye to the eye, you take a deep breath and face her. - Wanda, I'm sorry I avoided you these days.

- You really admitted it. - She grumbled, looking surprised and hurt. You swallowed hard.

- I was afraid. - You confessed, and she looked at you with confusion. - I thought I had crossed a line with you. But I'm not afraid anymore. Well, I'm still scared, because this is new, but okay, it's a good feeling…

You started to ramble and Wanda let out a giggle, and then she lunged at you, hugging you, and shutting you up. In your shock, you fell off the bed on your knees, but you kept hugging each other.

- Please don't keep things from me. - She asked in a low tone, mumbling against your hair. You nodded in agreement, squeezing her in your arms before you pulled away. - Will you tell me why you were avoiding me? - She asked looking at you curiously, and even a little defiantly, as if checking to see if you would keep hiding things from her. You bit your lower lip, blushing, and bowed your head in agreement.

- I thought I was crossing a line with you that day in the forest. - You mumbled without looking at her. Wanda frowned, blushing slightly.

- You were going to kiss me, right? - she asked in a whisper. Your heart raced, but you nodded in agreement. Wanda looked down at the floor, a shy smile on her lips. - I would have liked that.

You felt your face heat up at the confession, but smiled, looking at Wanda. It took a moment for her to meet your gaze, her face flushed, but when she did, you felt your stomach turn with nervousness.

- Look, I hate to interrupt the couple's reconciliation, but I have a train to rob tomorrow. - Pietro's voice broke the moment completely, and you almost fell back in astonishment when you noticed Pietro standing at the entrance of the tent, with a mischievous smile. 

- Perfect timing as always. - You grumbled as you got up from the floor, reaching out to help Wanda. Pietro came into the room next, pushing you lightly as he threw himself on his own bed. You let out a grumble of dissatisfaction.

- I told you I'd keep the house. - He teased last, and you tugged on his pillow, causing him to let out an indignant exclamation, but you were quick to throw the object against his face with mock amusement.

- Good night, sweetheart. - You retorted, quickly pulling away to keep him from hitting you with the pillow. You laughed as you left the room. Wanda hurried after you and you were surprised to see her following you out. 

Outside, at the entrance to her cabin, Wanda waited until you turned toward her, and then she stepped closer to you, putting her hands on your neck, and pulling your face toward her. She met your lips in a firm but soft kiss. 

You staggered back in surprise, closing your eyes. Your whole body throbbed, but before you could respond, she pulled away. 

- Goodnight. - she whispered in a husky tone, before turning back to her own cabin.

You stood there for a few seconds, unable to process exactly what had happened, the sensation of Wanda's lips against yours tingling in your mouth. A good few minutes passed before you returned to your own tent, a foolish smile on your lips.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑦 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑃𝑡.2 (𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎×𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

Part One/ Part Three / Part Four

Pairing: Badboy! Park Seonghwa (Ateez)/ Reader (Female)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, College Au.

Summary: Y/N has no idea what to make of the mysterious Park Seonghwa. Does he really like her or is he simply playing with her?

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

Flipping the light switches off, Y/N typed in the security code into the pin pad before closing the door behind her, the faint beeping from inside letting her know that the alarm was functioning properly. She honestly wondered at times about if anyone would ever think about robbing a coffee shop. Granted it made a lot of money during certain seasons, but unless you actually work in one, you probably wouldn't think so. Yet it was surprising to know it could make as much money as any famous fast food restaurant. Well.....with those sky high prices, it made sense.

She stopped and checked to make sure she had everything in her bag, not wanting to risk having left her keys inside and find out until she reached her apartment. Satisfied by the confirmation, she began her walk home. If it had been fall or winter, she would have seriously considered taking a bus, even though it wasn't that far away. But it was summer and thankfully there was still an hour left before the sun finally set. She truly believed she was lucky to have found a place to live that was close not only to her workplace, but also her school, even if it was a tiny studio apartment. She felt proud to say it was hers.

Feeling something tug on her sneaker, she looked down and realized one of her shoes was untied. She bent down and began tying it up again, carelessly placing her bag right next to her on the street. She was so focused on her task in front of her, she failed to notice the looming figure in front of her.

"You know anybody could just whisk away your bag and run at this moment?"

She snapped her head back up and saw Seonghwa standing in front of her, an amused smile on his face. He bent down and picked up her bag, dusting off the dirt that had gotten on the bottom part of it in the process.

"Tsk. Tsk. And here I thought you were a more.... what's the word? Meticulous person."

Y/N gave him a questioning gaze before standing up, quickly grabbing her bag from him.

"Not even a thank you?" Seonghwa shook his head.

"What are you still doing here? I thought you went home." Y/N said, clearly confused as to why he'd be there still.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at her.

"I thought I told you back in the shop that I'd see you later?"

Y/N recalled the moment, it did seem weird to her that he'd say that.

"Well doll, it's later......and I wanted to see you." He explained, a slight smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

Y/N let out a tiny scoff.

"Why?"

Seonghwa blinked at her response.

"I thought I made myself clear the other day Y/N. I like you."

Y/N blushed slightly at the memory of him confronting her back in school. She was hoping the shadow from the building in front of her casted enough to hide it from him.

"And I said there would be plenty of time to get to know each other.....well I'm free right now and obviously so are you. So why don't we get something to eat? My treat."

He grinned at her, obviously not expecting her to turn down his offer. Any other girl wouldn't say no to Seonghwa. But Y/N wasn't any girl, and she wasn't about to say yes to someone she hardly knew. Especially not when he acted so strange for her liking.

"No thank you."

She quickly responded and took a step to walk away from him, but his hand reached out and stopped her from moving any further.

"Why not?" He asked.

Y/N tried to think of an excuse, any quick excuse to get out of this.

"I'm not hungry." Was the best thing she could think of.

The loud grumbling of her stomach was a dead giveaway of her fat lie. After working 8 hours straight with only a bowl of cereal for breakfast and a muffin on her only break, of course she was borderline starving and needed something in her stomach before it began eating itself. Her hands clutched her stomach, hoping to silence the obnoxious noise, but ultimately just making it more obvious.

Seonghwa looked down at her figure and snorted softly.

"Seriously, I know a really good place here that sells burgers and shakes. Are you really going to say no to free food?"

At this point she could either tell him to fuck off and stomp away home, but ultimately she'd leave even more hungry and would still have to whip up something on the stove that would take approximately half an hour or more. Or she could accept his offer, but it'd mean interacting with him, not that it was necessarily a bad thing, but she honestly didn't know what to make of him. He's been straightforward with her all this time, but how was she to know he was being serious? For all she knew, he could just be playing with her. After all, isn't that what all bad boys are known for?

Guess there was only one way to find out.

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

Y/N looked around at the 50's themed diner she was in:

Black and white tiled floor that was so clean it almost looked slippery. Cherry red leather seats, either in the form of booths, tables or chairs on the front white counter that stretched at least 40 feet. An array of old records hanged on the wall, whether or not you could actually play them on a record player or if they were just flimsy decorations would forever be a secret. An old juke box was stationed in one of the corners of the counter currently playing The Beatles, its color combination of yellow and blue not quite appealing to the eyes. And of course, a pinball machine was placed near the entrance for kids to waste their quarters on. They even had a light blue 1955 convertible Chevrolet Bel Air for people to go take pictures of or with. At this point it wouldn't have surprised Y/N if waitresses came out of the kitchen in roller skates and started singing songs from Grease or Hairspray.

It became an even more ironic thought when she saw Seonghwa walk back to her with their food. Dressed in a white shirt, distressed jeans, black combat boots and black leather jacket with his hair slicked back, he could almost be a modern day Danny Zuko and for some reason, that thought made her bust a tiny giggle.

"What's so funny?" Seonghwa asked as he sat the tray down in front of her.

"Oh....nothing." She was not about to get caught.

Seonghwa looked at her funny, but ultimately decided not to pry.

"Here you go."

He slipped her food in front of her: a burger the size of her two hands and a 32 ounce chocolate shake with whipped chocolate and a cherry on the top. A well sized platter with regular fries and curly fries made it obvious that they were going to share them. She didn't mind though, the portions were so big she doubted she'd even finish half of it.

She dug into the food, her stomach thanking her for finally putting something in her body. She was so hungry that she didn't care if she was eating like how she usually ate when she was at home, messy and slobbish. She was halfway through her burger, when she caught Seonghwa just staring at her. That's when she started to feel self conscious. She quickly swallowed what was currently in her mouth and grabbed a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth.

Seonghwa giggled at her.

"Don't worry about it. It's pretty refreshing to see a girl not care about how she looks like when she eats, and to actually eat. You have no idea how many girls I've brought here who only get salads and nothing else."

He cringed slightly at past memories of awful dates that make him wanna kick himself for even thinking they were attractive. He blamed himself though. He tended to only look at pretty faces and end up regretting it when he found out they were all self-centered, shallow, and prissy girls that just made his blood boil.

"Maybe that's why I like you. You're different."

He didn't even realize he said that out loud until she whipped her head up at him. He was stunned that he accidentally let that slip, but he was able to play it off coolly.

"How......how can you..... we've never even..?" Y/N couldn't even completely form her question but Seonghwa knew what she was referring to.

Sighing softly, he began:

"Well I'm going to sound like a total creep now but that's inevitable. It was a few months back, when you had changed majors and had to be transferred to our class..."

Seonghwa ignored the usual reprimand of the professor, telling him he was late again. As if he didn't do it on purpose. He just hated this class. It was undoubtedly one of the most boring subjects one could possibly take. He began to stare off into space, not even bothering to listen to what was being said.

He looked around at the familiar faces he saw in class, the same people from last year. Until a head of (insert hair color) hair caught his eye. She was definitely not there before. Seonghwa tried to think if he had ever seen her around before, but couldn't quite remember.

Unknowingly, he found himself staring at her more and more each time they had class together. He found out she had a habit of tapping her pen against her cheek when she was trying to concentrate, she kept everything in her bag organized and hardly socialized with anybody.

One time he followed her to her locker, just to briefly see what was inside of it. You can always tell a lot about a person based on how they decorate their locker. But Seonghwa only saw a few pictures of what he assumed was her family, few friends and a lot of sticky notes with motivational quotes written on them in various sharpie colors, with either stars or diamonds as decorations.

That just peeked his curiosity even more in trying to decipher who the mysterious girl was, and his curiosity turned to fondness for the girl, so he had no choice but to admit that he was attracted to her and wanted to get close to her.

"Wait. Is that why you were staring at me in class the other day?" Y/N asked after he told her all that.

"Took you long enough to notice too. You were so oblivious to it that it was kinda funny." He chuckled.

Y/N looked back at that moment and realized she still had so many questions left.

"But then why did you look angry after I looked away?"

Seonghwa shifted his position, sitting up straighter so he could look at her.

"Why? Cause you looked at me with such a bitch face and even rolled your eyes at me. I was kinda angry and hurt that you did that given how I feel about you." He explained.

Y/N looked at him confused.

"I did not roll my eyes at you."

"Uh....yeah. You did. You looked at me as if I was a bug or something." He corrected her.

"Well..... I was tired and hungry! I'm not in control of my actions or emotions when I'm in that state." She tried defending herself, feeling somewhat embarrassed that she had no control over her facial expressions.

"Yeah, I've noticed. You weren't all that happy 25 minutes ago when I asked you out on this date." Now it was Seonghwa's turn to roll his eyes at her previous behavior.

"This....this isn't a date!" Y/N exclaimed.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Oh no? Do enlighten me then. What is this?"

Y/N thought about it for a moment.

"We are just 2 individuals, having a meal together and conversing." She stated.

"Why are we conversing though?" Seonghwa continued to pry.

Y/N hummed.

"Because you said you wanted to get to know me better?"

Seonghwa smiled at that.

"Sounds to me like a date then."

Y/N mentally face palmed. She practically walked into that one herself. She sighed as she picked up one of the fries and dipped it into her milkshake before eating it.

"And now I've learnt one more thing about you: we have similar tastes in eating."

Y/N watched as he mirrored her actions and dipped his fries in his strawberry milkshake. Y/N decided to just finish eating as soon as possible so she could go home early. The sun was starting to set and she didn't like walking home in the dark, even if rarely any crime happened in this neighborhood. She was planning on not saying anything else, but then something popped in her mind that made her ask:

"Wait a minute! The day after the.....incident." She began.

"You mean when you were a total bitch?" Seonghwa teased.

"Haha, funny." She threw a fry at him, causing Seonghwa to laugh even harder.

She had to admit though, he had a cute laugh.

"Anyways, the day afterwards, I heard 2 girls talking in the bathroom about you. They said that you were pissed off at me-"

"I kinda was." He interrupted her again.

"Let me finish!" She cried out rather annoyed.

Seonghwa bit his lip as he stifled another laugh. He found it adorable when Y/N got agitated.

"They made it sound like you were going to beat me up. Something about 'giving it to me'" She held up her fingers in quoting signals.

Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to decipher what she meant. Then it hit him.

"Oh! No. Trust me, I wasn't going to beat you up. As for 'giving it to you' "

He mimicked her quotation signs, causing Y/N to glare at him for teasing her again.

"I was referring to the notepad you dropped. Remember? I gave it back to you?"

Now she face palmed literally as she realized she hadn't thought about that. And here she thought she was dead meat for sure.

"Was that why you were avoiding me the rest of the week? You actually believed I was going to fight you?"

Y/N swirled her milkshake with her straw, unable to look at Seonghwa in the eyes anymore.

"Y/N? I'm talking to you. You really believed that?"

The authority in his voice made her look up at him, his expression showing offense and indignation at the thought that she actually believed him capable of such a thing.

"Why would you think that?" He continued his interrogation.

"Well..... I don't know! Ok? Maybe cause I've heard so many rumors about you. You don't exactly have the best of reputations at school. Everyone says how you're...."

Her voice trailed off, afraid to finish her sentence, afraid to offend or hurt him in anyway .

"That I'm a delinquent? A criminal?"

Y/N blinked when he said that, as if he could read her mind.

"I know what people say about me, I'm not blind nor deaf to their gossip." He stated, not at all unfazed by what he often heard.

"So does that mean none of it is true?" She couldn't help but want the answer to her question.

"Well depends. Have I gotten into a lot of fights with other guys? Yes. Do I have a temper at times that gets me in trouble? Yes. Have I fucked a bunch of girls just for fun? Definitely. Do I smoke or drink often? I'm not denying it."

Seonghwa reached into his pocket and took out his lighter, twirling it around in his hand a few times so Y/N could get a glance at it before putting it back in his pants.

"But have I ever vandalized, stolen or done anything remotely illegal? No. Have I beaten someone up for no good reason? No."

Y/N listened to his words very carefully. She was amazed how he was calmly telling her all of this.

"And I most certainly have never even thought about lifting a finger against a woman. Especially not one I'm interested in." He confessed abruptly, causing Y/N to gulp her drink a little fast, nearly making her choke.

"I'm sorry." She apologized.

Seonghwa chuckled softly.

"Don't be. I get why you'd be scared. I just wish you'd get to know the real me......"

He reached his hand out and lightly brushed his finger on the top of her knuckles.

"Kinda like how I want to know you..."

The physical contact sent a weird feeling down her body. It was chilly, yet warm at the same time. She wanted to reach out and lace her fingers in his, and she would have, until a high pitched voice interrupted them.

"Seonghwa! Is that you?!"

They looked over to see a purple haired boy waving his hand in the air, as if his loud voice didn't make his presence already known. A pink haired boy was standing next to him, looking embarrassed as his friend jumped up and down. Having had enough of that, he pulled the boy by his arm and ran over to Seonghwa and Y/N's table.

"Hi! What a coincidence to see you here! Why didn't you tell us you would be here? You could have joined Yeosang and I. He promised to take me out to eat." He pulled whom Y/N assumed to be Yeosang closer to him.

The purple haired boy spoke so loud and fast Y/N had a hard time understand what he was saying.

"Promised? I was threatened." Yeosang replied, causing the other boy to let out a loud laugh, making Y/N think of a hyena.

"Hyung, where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?"

Seonghwa blushed and cleared his throat. It was the first time Y/N saw him get flustered and it was definitely funny.

"Y/N isn't my girlfriend-"

"Oh really? Great! Cause she's cute."

The boy wasted no time and held his hand out to her.

"My name is Wooyoung, I'm single, Bi, and I have a driver's license." He winked at her.

"For a moped." Yeosang corrected him.

Wooyoung sent a glare towards his friend.

"Y/N, these are my friends: Wooyoung and Yeosang. They go to our school, but you've probably never seen them cause they're a grade below us."

Y/N nodded and waved awkwardly at them.

"Yeosang, Wooyoung, this is Y/N. She's not my girlfriend, but she's off limits. Ok?" Seonghwa made sure to lock eyes with Wooyoung, silently warning him not to step any further into his territory.

"So if she's not your girlfriend, does that mean she's a fuck bud-"

Yeosang stepped on Wooyoung's foot, causing him to bend over in pain. Yeosang however smiled sweetly as if nothing happened.

"Anyways, it was nice seeing you Hyung. We wouldn't want to take up more of your time. Besides, we'll be seeing you tomorrow at Hongjoong's party. Right?"

Seonghwa nodded.

"You know I never pass up an opportunity to party."

"Will you bring Y/N with you?" Wooyoung asked, hoping she'd come.

Seonghwa looked over to Y/N, who tried to think of an answer.

"Uh... no thanks. I wasn't invited so-"

"Who cares? No one needs an invitation these days. It's a frat party anyways, a bunch of strangers end up coming in the end." Wooyoung insisted.

"I'll....think about it." Y/N knew she wouldn't.

"Ok! I'll take it as a yes. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Taking a hold of Yeosang's hand, Wooyoung made his way over to another table, the pink haired boy already looking exhausted at the thought of spending at least 2 more hours with his highly energetic friend.

Y/N smiled softly at them. They were definitely an odd pairing, but they seemed to compliment each other.

"It's getting late. Want me to take you home?" Seonghwa asked her.

"It's fine. I can walk. It's not that far." She refused.

"I insist. I want to make sure you get there safely." He insisted.

Y/N smirked at him.

"Are you really concerned for my safety or do you just wanna find out where I live?"

Seonghwa's mouth dropped at her insinuation.

"I don't..... ok you got me there."

She chuckled at his reaction, but ultimately got up.

"Ok. Fine. Take me home. The worst you can possibly do is murder me and throw my body in a lake."

Seonghwa shook his head and picked up his jacket. He made sure to hold the door open for her when they went out. Y/N didn't even notice he had stopped walking until she heard him whistle behind her. Turning around, she saw him standing next to a black Harley-Davidson motorcycle. She raised her hands and gestured him to explain.

"I told you I was taking you home."

He tapped the seat.

"So come on. Hop on doll."

He began taking out the spare helmet for her to put on. She walked back to him and placed her hands on her hips.

"You kept it parked here the entire time?" She asked him.

"Uh huh." He responded.

Her face was full of shock.

"Did you know that I would say yes to coming here with you?"

"Well not exactly 'knew'.......more like....hoped."

He winked at her before placing the helmet above her head, making sure to strap it tightly.

"Safety first."

After putting on his own helmet, he got on the motorcycle and waited for her to get on. She awkwardly threw her leg over the seat and hesitated to wrap her arms around him. Seonghwa huffed and simply grabbed her wrists to put them on his stomach.

As soon as he started revving up the motorcycle, Y/N tightened her grip around him. Even through his shirt, she could feel rock solid abs underneath it. It made her wonder what he looked like without a shirt. The thought temporarily distracted her from the worry of actually riding in a motorcycle for the first time.

Sensing her fear, Seonghwa grabbed one of her hands and gave it a light squeeze.

"Don't worry doll. I'll keep you safe."

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

*part 3 coming soon*

[worlds-forgotten]

Stranger

summary:  A night between the events in the bar with the townsfolk and the battle with the Karyt dragon. Cobb offers his home to the newcomers, with pleasurable circumstances that follow.

pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Cobb Vanth

warnings: smut, swearing 

word count: 7.7k

rating: Mature 

posted: 20/11/23

“It could have gone worse, ‘suppose.” Cobb kicked some sand as they exited the building, thumbing his belt and looking to the setting suns. The Mandalorian’s gaze followed that of the marshal’s, and he sighed. “Just glad they’re willing to work together, for now.”

The heat of the day was still fresh, despite the cool evening creeping in. Din felt it under his heavy armour - sweat behind his knees, on the back of his neck, in his gloves - if time and privacy allowed it, he may stray away from the town far enough to take off his gear and wipe down a bit, get some fresh air. But as he looked at the ground, where the foundling was just at his boot, Din realized he would need to settle the child in before anything else. They didn’t have any food or water left with them, and that night, he would be relying on the generosity of strangers to feed the kid. His own stomach could wait, despite the faint hunger pang he felt.

The bi-sunset created a warm, orange glow across the desert dunes, casting a feeling of security, even with the next day’s task ahead. It had been awhile since the Mandalorian felt he had the time to appreciate the scenery; Always on the run, looking for a job, tasked with an adventure, it didn't allow for a lot of sightseeing.

The child cooed and grasped Mando’s boot, so he leaned over and scooped him into his arms, before turning toward Vanth.

“He needs rest, and nourishment. Is there somewhere-”

“Ha!” Cobb loudly interrupted, patting Din roughly on the back. “Any visitor in my town is a friend to me. That includes your little pet here, follow me.”

Mando had the urge to correct the marshal as he followed him that the kid wasn’t a pet, but he didn’t have an accurate description of what he was, so he left it, opting to stay silent as he crossed the town’s main roadway and into a hut tucked in the far end.

Inside wasn’t anything particularly special, just some basic furniture, some of which looked knocked together and recycled from scraps, but it clearly suited Cobb just fine, who placed down the green helmet that had been tucked under his arm, along with his belts and blaster.

“It’s not much,” Cobb pushed aside some glasses on the table, though he had no shame in his voice. “But we don’t need much out here. You seem like the kind of fellow who knows how to live off of bits and ends.”

“We manage.” Mando replied gruffly, adjusted the kid in his arms. He was feeling rather ansty on his feet - it had been a long 24 hours without much rest and a lot of travelling, and he was sure he would sleep a solid 10 hours if he allowed it, but the dread of facing the giant sand creature and gaining the armour back from the marshal lay heavy on his mind.

This deal didn’t only benefit himself and the child, but his entire culture. If the plan went awry and he couldn’t take the armour back, he wasn’t sure what he would do. It wouldn’t be fair to take it forcefully after the deal, but it felt even worse to think about leaving it behind. The recent loss of the allies back home (though he didn’t really think of it as home anymore) kept the bounty hunter on edge now, as if any bit that was left of his people inside him would crumble away if he wasn’t careful enough.

The marshal seemed much more relaxed, considering the circumstances, especially since he was ready for a faceoff with the town’s new visitor only hours earlier. But now, the silver-haired man was sporting a grin and a casual gaze that made Din feel like there was an ulterior motive to why he and the kid were now cornered in the marshal’s hut. Mando’s fingers ghosted the blaster in the holster on his side.

“Well, there’s green and blue milk for the kid,” Cobb gestured to the food bin, “not much to eat I’m afraid, except some Bantha veal.” He stood and pulled out a strip of dried meat and offered it to Din, who visibly calmed as he accepted it. No harm in trusting strangers, occasionally, he supposed.

The kid happily snatched the food and was placed on the table, as the marshal poured some floral green milk into a cup, which was also passed along to the foundling, who slurped it up quickly.

“So, uh, if that’s yours,” Cobb leaned against the counter, a little too close for Din’s comfort, and gestured between him and the foundling. “Is that what you look like? Under there?” He said this, referring to the hemet. “Or did you hook up with a..”

The Mandalorian had picked up a long time ago that despite wearing a mask, he was unusually good at reflecting his emotions, and others were very good at picking up on his body language. Vanth clearly got the message when he stopped talking and laughed, holding his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, that was rude of me. Never mind, hey?” He laughed, all charming grins. He struck Mando as the type of guy who thought flashing smiles and sly remarks could get him out of anything. “You wouldn’t be able to fit those big ol’ ears under there anyways, right?” The marshal reached out a hand to give a gentle tug on the kid’s ear, who cooed in response, green milk dribbling down his chin.

Din wiped it away instinctively, before picking the kid up, who had finished his meal, clearly grateful as he let out a quieter, sleepier coo.

“Oh!” The marshal stood up, looking around. “I’ve got a crate of sorts, he can sleep in it if he likes. Probably better than sleeping out on that old bike outside.” Mando followed the man into a small room in the back that appeared to be fairly unused, just some old boxes and clothes, and a few weapons on shelves. The room across the hall seemed to be the marshal’s bedroom, but the door was only slightly ajar for viewing inside.

“Here ya go,” Cobb stepped aside to reveal a rectangular crate lined with an old blanket. “Little guy is all tuckered out.”

Looking down, Din saw that the foundling had fallen asleep while being held, so he was placed gently inside the crate, with Mando acutely aware that Vantha was watching, right behind him. He unwrapped the cowl from his neck and used it to wrap around the little green child, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

“I appreciate your hospitality,” Mando placed a hand on his hip in the main room, “if there's anything I can do..”

“No, no,” Cobb waved his hands cooly, walking into the kitchen. “You’ll be doing more than enough tomorrow, and now, you can sit and join me for a drink.”

“Marshal-”

The gray haired man laughed, pulling out a glass and a bottle of something pale gold and glimmering. “I know, I know, you can’t in front of me. Unless you want a straw to just suck up from under there?”

The look was given again, and the marshal couldn’t seem to stop laughing. Din didn’t see what was so amusing all the time, though he supposed the town didn’t get too many visitors, and perhaps Vanth had gone mildly loopy from seeing the same 30 people everyday.

“Just kidding, you take things too seriously. Sit down,” he offered, reclining himself at the table. The Mandalorian took the offer, clunking down into the seat, and feeling heavier than usual. He still longed to go and take off his gear, if just for a few minutes, in the clear of any prying eyes. The recent missions had taken a toll on his body, while he was extremely well trained and adapted to his lifestyle, the peak in activity between the Guild and the business with the foundling - it was beginning to feel more like an ache in his bones, with no time to cure his exhaustion. The thought of sleeping in a warm bed without fear of his or the kid’s life could make him drool if he thought too hard about it.

But now, he watched Cobb down one, then two, small glasses of the gold liquid without so much as a flinch, even though he could smell the bitterness of the alcohol from across the table and through the helmet. The marshal was impressive, for sure, even despite their stand off earlier. Really, to the defense of the marshal, he had only been looking out for his fellow man, and not having understood the intricacies of the Mandalorian culture, thought donning the armour would help that along. He wouldn’t have known the offense behind it, and perhaps Mando had been a bit harsh, before. But with his recent revelation with his worry for loss of connection to his people, he himself also couldn’t be blamed for his reaction.

“Thank you, again,” Mando leaned forward, elbows on the table. He watched Cobb’s face carefully for any signs of dishonestly, but there wasn’t any - just that same, genuine toothy grin. The marshal laughed. “It’s all good, friend. New faces are more than welcome, even if at first they’re a bit..”

“Standoffish?”

“Yeah,” Vanth swiped a hand through his silver locks. Mando swallowed hard. “I was ready to blast your helmet off straight. Could have done it, too.” Cobb knocked back the rest of his drink.

Din had to chuckle. It was evident to the both of them that Cobb would not win hand to hand, or even with blasters, but he allowed the man a small victory. “You must be familiar with a weapon, to have fought off the mining corp yourself.”

“Mostly thanks to your peoples’ fashion choice.”

“Were you trained?’

“Me?” Vanth choked. “Maker, no. I was no better at shootin’ than Kalaks are at simple thought. It was a lot of chance - I was determined to make sure this town was better than how I had grown up. No person deserves to be a slave.”

This peaked Mando’s otherwise tired attention. “You..”

“Yep. Lots of us around here were. There’s been liberations, freeing the people and what not, but it’s still there, y’know? It doesn’t just leave overnight. Hasn’t left me, I don’t think it ever will. Even if I’m not a physical slave anymore, I still have..” He swirled his cup around the table for a moment before seeming to snap out of his daze. “Well. All that’s in the past now. I’m much better with my hands now,” he added with a wink and that damn smile again, and Din felt hotter under his mask than he had all day. He could punch out Cobb’s perfect teeth. “So tell me about you, then.” The marshal added with another sip of his drink.

“Not much to tell.”

“Come on, there’s got to be something. We’ll start nice and easy. What’s your name?”

Mando cocked his head. He wasn’t getting that comfortable.

“No? Okay,” Vanth smacked his lips. “Are you human?”

“Yes.”

“There we go!” Cobb threw a hand up. “Now we’re getting somewhere! How old are you? You seem young, pretty fit, wouldn’t see no guys with aching joints doing your kinds of jobs.”

Din thought of his tiredness. He wasn’t old, but he didn’t feel young anymore either.

“I’m not too old myself, don’t worry, the hair is a misnomer of its own.” The marshal ruffled his own haircut, and Mando wondered what he had meant by ‘too old’. For what?

There was an animal howl from somewhere deep in the wastelands of sand dunes around them, and the Mandalorian clenched his jaw to suppress a yawn. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it the whole night without falling asleep. He looked around the room. There was a tattered chair that had a cushion, he could maybe doze in that for an hour or two before sunrise.

“So how come your armour’s so much nicer than mine?” Vanth pointed at the chest plate, a look of genuine curiosity on his face.

“Mine didn’t come from a Jawa’s trashpile.”

“I mean seriously-”

“It’s beskar. It has a long history with my people, and is nearly indestructible. Which is why it’s so valuable.”

“More indestructible than what I’ve got on?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” Cobb smirked. “So it stays on.”

“Yes.”

“All the time.”

Mando sighed. “Yes, in front of others.”

“Like, even during..” Vanth gave the Mandalorian a knowing smirk, and Din felt that familiar heat on his face return, and he turned his visor away, giving the marshal a good chuckle. “I guess that means you don’t get around much then.”

You don’t know me, Din wanted to say, but Cobb was right. The lifestyle and religion certainly didn’t allow much leeway in terms of physical relationships. Not that it mattered, he was never in one place long enough to even entertain the idea. Not that it hadn’t happened before, though it was very rare. The last time was more than a year ago, on Ithor. It was quick and messy, and she had barely touched him, save for her legs wrapped around his hips desperately. A quick lift of her dress and it was over in minutes, he hadn’t even had time to take his gloves off. He supposed it could have been the nature of her species, and he certainly didn’t like to discriminate, but the ache he had deep in his soul, a longing to just be held-

He thought then of Omera, left behind on Sorgan, when she had tried to make him stay, and how gently she had touched his hands and helmet, and a deep longing stirred in the pit of Din’s stomach. It was not the time or the place to be thinking like that.

Instead he watched Cobb’s gaze, which was lowered beneath thick eyelashes. He was playing with his glass again, before his eyes flicked up to meet the Mandalorian’s behind the mask. Din couldn’t deny that the marshal was ruggedly handsome, with a certain charm that could melt his beskar armour away to reveal the reserved man beneath. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds of eye contact before Cobb leaned across the table, swaying slightly with presumably the influence of alcohol in his system. “What do you look like, under there?” He asked quietly, his drawl less pronounced with his whisper. “Has anyone seen you?”

“Not since I was a child.” Mando replied, lowering his own voice to match. He felt a lump in his throat and a rise in his heart rate. He had been with men before - not many, but it was the little experience he had that kept him planted in his seat, despite the logical side of his mind telling him to leave before things escalated. He knew what the marshal wanted, he could see it in those glazed and squinting eyes, in the way his hand creeped across the table, and how his gaze swayed from the tip of the helmet to Mando’s hand which rested on the surface of the table in front of them.

Ever so slowly, as if trying not to scare away an animal, Vanth reached over and touched Din’s glove, and he flinched away, but Cobb seized his wrist, touched that little bit of skin that poked out between his glove and sleeve. Their bare skin was melding - the marshal’s fingertips caressing the inner exposed arm of the Mandalorian.

“Vanth-” he said shortly, unmoving.

“Mando.” Cobb replied with a flash of teeth. His grip tightened slightly, urging Din to react. “Don’t be nervous. You won’t break my heart if you say no.”

I can’t say yes is the problem. Heart racing, the Mandalorian closed his eyes behind the helmet. He relished this small contact, the way Vanth thumbed beneath his sleeve, which was pushing it, but a welcome intrusion. Somehow, Din knew the marshal needed it just as much as he did. The tell tale sign was the shudder that came from Cobb’s finger. “Nervous?” Mando broke the silence. “That’s saying a lot from someone who’s shaking.”

Cobb playfully squeezed where his hand rested. “Shakin’? Nah,” he stood suddenly, his chair almost falling back, but it stayed upwards, and surprisingly so did Cobb, despite the alcohol he consumed that evening. The marshal walked around Mando’s chair, and leaned in close to the helmet, where Din’s ear would be beneath it, and whispered, “I’m just thinking about how good you’ll look sprawled on my bed.”

Without another word, he walked down the short corridor and turned into the bedroom. The swagger in his walk said, I know you want me, with a thumb in his belt and the slow thunking of his boots against the stone floor.

Din stayed in his seat, his hand still on the table, wrist exposed, and a stupid expression on his face behind the mask. He supposed he could just stand and leave, collect the kid in the morning, and forget this ever happened, but something kept him in the hut; Desire, loneliness, a sense of duty or repayment, a yearn to feel something more than he had before (as if this stranger could give what he was looking for, but it was a start in the right direction).

Wanting to slap himself, Din resisted the urge to laugh aloud. Was he the one who had drank half a bottle of whiskey? His ache was getting the best of him. Better to deal with the issue in the bedroom before he began fantasizing too much about an easier life where he could be held whenever he desired.

“You’re drunk,” he stated, and felt stupid after, standing in the bedroom doorway, since it was an obvious statement, but he didn’t know what else to say as he watched Cobb sitting on the edge of a bed, pulling his boot off.

The marshal laughed mirthfully. “Yeah, well,” his second boot thumped onto the ground. “I often am. Ain’t no bother, I know what I’m doing.” Standing, the silver haired man crossed the room, standing before the Mandalorian, a bit taller, and he ran his hands down Din’s arms. “Thing is, I don’t know much about you. Tell me your name, at least, stranger.”

He contemplated this for a moment. It couldn’t do too much harm to tell him the truth - the chance of it causing any problems were slim to none. No one else had to know. But, it would be against…

He didn’t have the chance to answer before Vanth tugged him closer towards the bed, and eventually was on his knees on the thin mattress, so they were about eye level. Cobb ran a hand over the shiny Beskar of Din’s helmet, and held either side of the mask. For a moment, Mando was worried he was going to yank it off, and instinctively, reached for his blaster, but the marshal laughed, grabbing his hand gently.

“Just calm down, ‘kay?” He unbuckled the belt and holster from Din’s pants and cast them aside. “Don’t talk much, do you? All action?”

“Not much to say.” The marshal laughed at this, and the Mandalorian wondered if he found everything funny or if he did it to cease awkward silence. “Well, you don’t gotta say anything except my name tonight, stranger.” He added with a wink, and reached forward to unhook Din’s chestplate.

“Wait,” He stopped him with a hand on the sternum.

Cobb instantly froze, matching Mando’s gaze in the visor, “Not okay?”

“Not the plate. Not the helmet.”

“Rest is fair game?” He smirked, Maker, the smirk, and tugged Din’s belt loops so he stumbled forward and fell flush against Cobb. “Just cause you don’t got much to say doesn’t mean you can’t say anything. Let me know if I, uh, cross any Mandalore lines, okay?”

Din didn’t reply and stayed stiff for a moment, before reaching to unclasp his arm gauntlets, and Vanth took the message and helped him and himself taking off various weapons and belts and shielding. They did this in a comfortable silence until it was just them, the pile of extremities on the floor, and Mando’s chest armour and helmet.

Cobb thumbed the thin fabric of the long sleeved shirt Din was still wearing, along with his pants. As they were the two items closest to his bare skin under layers of other clothes and armour, the Mandalorian was acutely aware that he probably smelled a bit ripe from the hot desert, and felt embarrassed, but if Vanth could tell, he didn’t seem to care. His bare hands rubbed across Din’s stomach and he got a glint in his eyes. Clearly, whatever Din was doing by just standing there, straight as a board, was getting Vanth off, because he moaned quietly before meeting Mando’s eyeline.

“You’re a real work, y’know that?”

Din wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he let Cobb guide him to lay down on the bed, and watched as the marshal straddled him, then reached to grab the hem of his own shirt and pulled it over his head.

His sun kissed skin gleamed with the warmth of the desert sky, and his toned chest tensed as Vanth shifted his weight to get more comfortable in the Mandalorian’s lap.

“Enjoying the view?” The silver haired man teased.

Mando hummed in response, placing his ungloved hands on the marshal’s hips. “Be a lot better if you weren’t being so kriffing slow.”

“Wow, eager much, stranger?”

“Stop calling me that,” Mando squeezed Vanth’s hips a little harder. ‘Stranger’ made it feel wrong.

The marshal laughed, ever amused. “Well, you won’t tell me-”

“Shut up, or I’ll leave.” He retorted, a little harsher than intended. “Just..”

Cobb smiled gently this time, his hands gently meeting Din’s on his sides, then nodded in understanding. “S’okay. Lemme show you what I can do.”

Leaning down, the marshal brought his face into the crook of Din’s neck, and the Mandalorian tilted his helmet away to allow excess. His breath hitched as he felt the kind lips sucking a spot on his throat. A deep groan left his chest as Cobb rotated his hips in place, grinding against Din’s lap.

Vanth tugged the collar of the other man’s shirt, kissing along his collarbone and licking sweet stripes anywhere he could reach. He tugged at the chest plate, back and forth, before sitting up and swiping his flopping hair out of his face.

“You gonna keep that dinner plate on or are we gonna man up about this?”

Mando rolled his eyes behind his visor, but couldn’t help his own small smirk. He unfastened the armour with a sigh, and gently cast it aside on the bed, then sat up to pull off his shirt, carefully, over the helmet.

Adjusting himself in the lap, Cobb wrapped his long legs around Mando’s waist. “Hot damn. Open the chest, and reveal the treasure within,” he joked, running his hands up and down Din’s front. “Nice tits.” He playfully squeezed a pectoral, and he wriggled, making the Mandalorian hard in his pants, faster than he would have liked to admit. Cobb could obviously feel him underneath, and gave a knowing smile, before pulling them close together, their bare chests touching each other.

Vanth had less chest hair than Din did, but it tickled a little nonetheless. The marshal kissed his bedmate’s shoulder, then bit it playfully, before whispering into his ear.

“Maker, you’re so hot,” he muttered, rolling his hips again. “Bet you’re strong, too.” He ran a hand up Mando’s bicep, stopping to squeeze the muscle there. “But you ain’t gotta do any heavy lifting tonight. Just relax. You’re wound up tighter than an ignition coil.” He rubbed Din’s shoulders, letting him know he was safe - they were safe, in this moment. Maybe Mando would never be able to let his guard down fully, but he would try, tonight. He also enjoyed that Vanth was implying there would be another night, where Din’s strength would be needed.

He looked down as Cobb fiddled with their pants, before reaching into the Mandalorian’s briefs to stroke him a few times. A sense of embarrassment fell over Din as he panted, feeling very warm under his helmet. It had been awhile since he was on the receiving end of intimacy, usually opting for showing others a good time, but Cobb had a sly look of determination that told him it wasn’t the marshal’s first rodeo when it came to taking charge.

The dry contact on his cock was a bit uncomfortable, but Din braced himself on Vanth as the marshal pulled it out from the confines of his pants, stroking a little harder now.

“Nice,” Cobb flashed his perfect teeth again.

“Shut up,” Mando inhaled sharply at a particularly painful tug of his skin, and Cobb pulled his hand away, his stupid grin still growing, ear to ear.

They sat in silence for a second, the room warm and their skin beginning to perspire. Suddenly, the silver haired man ran his hand up to Din’s collarbone, before touching his jaw beneath the helmet.

The Mandalorian tensed, used to the concern that his mask would be ripped away - it had almost happened far too many times recently, more than he could recall - but instead the marshal’s fingers found Din’s mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered, with a tint of that sheriff attitude he had seen with the townspeople earlier that evening. Not used to being submissive, Din hesitated, and when Cobb didn’t break eye contact, the bounty hunter obediently parted his lips and brought the digits onto his tongue.

They tasted rough and vaguely of alcohol, but his tongue swirled around them before releasing, feeling a bit of drool escape his lips.

“Well, at least you ain’t got fangs,” Cobb muttered with a laugh.

“I told you I’m-”

“Human, yeah,” the marshal’s wet fingers resting on Din’s jaw, “but you could say anything to ride one out.”

“You’re vulgar.” Mando didn’t say this with any particular venom, and he wasn’t sure why he had said it, considering he himself had spoken some pretty crass comments in moments of passion, but he found himself now wishing that Cobb would just shut up and get a move on.

The marshal didn’t reply but drew a wet stripe down Din’s chest with the saliva before capturing the dark haired man’s cock once more, this time slick for ease. “There, that’s better, innit?”

The Mandalorian did not justify this with spoken words but a tightening of his muscles in response to the pumping of Vanth’s hand and a quiet gasp, amplified through the helmet’s modulator.

“There’s a good boy,” the marshall encouraged, licking and biting his lip. “Maker, I wish I could see you under there, writhing - bet that mouth can do a lot.”

Shutupshutupshutup-

“I would love to feel your pretty lips wrapped around-”

“You could.” Mando interrupted. Fuck. Too late now. “You can. If you want.”

The hand stopped moving and Cobb shifted in his lap. “I thought..”

“If, uh,” the bounty hunter paused for a moment. This was so stupid. He felt stupid. Embarrassed, even. The last time he had done this it was a wild night full of handcuffs and blindfolds and rough play, but it had worked. It felt really against the creed, but technically it was a loophole. Cobb would never actually see him, and that was most of it, anyways. “If you wear something over your eyes. I can take it off.” He finished plainly. His heart was beating so hard against his ribcage. “Like, your..your scarf, or something.”

The marshal’s eyes widened a little and a cat like grin spread wildly across his face. “Whoohee!” He clapped his palms together loudly, like he hadn’t just been giving Din a handjob five seconds before. “You’re just full of surprises, stranger!” Cobb clambered off of Mando’s lap, rifling through the clothes they had tossed around, “I’d be happy as a bantha in Winter to, a minute now, to take you up on your - aha!” He pulled up the red garment triumphantly. “I didn’t peg you as the kinky sort, but then again, I haven't pegged you yet, have I?”

“Don’t make me take it back.” Din warned, pulling his pants down but keeping on his briefs, after having tucked himself back in. He stood to offer to help tie the scarf, but the marshal stepped back and held out a hand to stop.

“Wait a minute. Oh, yeah.” He looked at the Mandalorian, who was standing in nothing but underwear and his helmet, and he rubbed his chin and bit his lip with a smirk. “I’m just taking it in. Gotta give me something to think about if I’m going blind in a minute.”

Not feeling one way or the other about it, Din let him gawk for a minute, his arms sitting lamely at his sides for a minute before he sighed. “Are you done?”

“No rush,” Cobb laughed, but turned around nonetheless, offering the cloth over his head, and with nimble fingers, Din tied it tightly around the marshal’s eyes. The silver haired man turned slowly, his arms out like a bird to feel the space around him. “Mando?”

“Yeah. Can you see?”

“Nothin’. I swear.”

There was a comfortable quiet in the air, as Cobb relaxed and stood still, clearly waiting for a go ahead. At that prompt, Din reached up and carefully pulled his head free from the Beskar and knelt down to place it on the floor. He inhaled a deep breath of mildly fresh air, and ruffled his curls, knowing his helmet hair was probably terrible. At least Vanth wouldn’t see.

Cobb stood with a goofy grin, and only flinched slightly at the unexpected contact of the Mandalorian touching his hands. He ran his fingers up and down the marshal’s forearms twice before using the connection to bring the older man closer - and slowly brought their hands to hover above Din’s cheeks.

With a sharp inhale, Mando melted skin to skin, and gasped quietly at the sensation of Vath’s palms flush against his face. The feeling of having his head cradled in someone’s hands was unmatched - the marshal gently brushed his thumbs across his lips, then touched his nose (where underneath he was sporting a pretty decent moustache), ghosted over his eyelids, and ran his fingers through the bounty hunter’s hair, playfully tugging when he was done.

“ ‘Feel handsome,” Cobb whispered. “Ready to fuck now?”

“Shut up.” Mando growled low, roughly yanking open Cobb’s pants, to which he only got a snort of laughter.

“Whoa now,” he said, as if calming a taun taun. It was a hopeless cause, trying to get the man to be quiet for longer than five seconds.

Din switched their places, so the sheriff was closest to the bed, and eased him into a sitting position. The marshal warily held his hands hovering above the mattress, before relaxing and wiggling a little in the spot.

“The suspense is killin’ me,” he whispered, his eyeline upwards as he waited for Mando to make a move.

Din moved down onto his knees in front of the marshal, gently running his hands up and down his thighs. The silver haired man gasped in reaction, and moved quickly to take off his pants. Once they were thrown away, the bounty hunter gave a gentle kiss right beside the other man’s belly button, then another just below. With a gentle and soft movement, Din pulled the cock from Cobb’s underwear and gave it a firm tug.

“Ah-” Vanth grunted, his beautiful mouth hanging open, then found the Mandalorian’s hair with one hand. “Please..”

“Please what?” Din found himself taking his usual charge, which caused the marshal to giggle and grin.

“Slow down there, stranger, I thought I was the big man here.”

“Then act like it and tell me what you want.”

Cobb gripped Din’s hair tightly, earning a groan of surprise, but also arousal. “Take my cock in your pretty little mouth and suck like a good boy.”

Mando attempted to pull the grip from his curls away. “Don’t do that.” He growled.

“Like you don’t like it,” The marshal grinned, “stranger.”

Din wanted to slap him and his stupid goddamn smile- but he opted to not do anything drastic and instead took Cobb in his mouth, deep and fast, earning a second hand tangled in his hair. He gripped the man’s thighs hard as he bobbed his head up and down, taking in the marshal’s taste and girth.

“Pfassk-” Vanth moaned. “Oh, fuck..Maker-” His grip tightened in the Mandalorian’s hair.

Din hummed in reply, running his hands to the marshal’s waist and keeping him still while he worked his tongue around the head of the older man’s cock. He felt dirty and debauched to be on the marshal’s floor with his member in his mouth. Someone who he had only met a day ago, grasping at his body desperately under his lips. It was exhilarating if not madly loose of him.

Cobb’s gasps grew faster. “Kriff, kriff, kriff,” he used the hands in Din’s hair to move him away, and the bounty hunter stopped, with some drool escaping his lips. “Wait,” the marshal panted.

“What’s wrong?” Din rasped.

“I don’t want to finish yet. I’ve got a good time to show you as well, partner.”

The Mandalorian paused for a minute, letting the air return to his lungs, and gently smoothed his palms down Cobb’s thighs. “Sure. Where do you, uh,”

“On the bed. Come on now,” Vanth patted the mattress and stood, carefully, his lack of eyesight clearly a mild hindrance as he tumbled across the room to get something from a drawer. The bounty hunter laid back on the bed, and took off his underwear, now completely nude in the presence of the silver haired man, who was none the wiser. It felt fairly freeing, but Din knew it was a dangerous game. If he got too comfortable with the beskar off, he may never put it back on. That was a terrifying thought, because as much as he could pretend to deny it, it was something he could see happening if he did it too often.

This was interrupted as Cobb practically fell into the bed, bracing himself with his hands, with a small jar of what Din assumed was lube in his palm.

“I’m back. Did you miss me?” Cobb grinned in the direction he must have thought was the bounty hunter, but too far to the right and Din felt a wave of warmth run through him. Unfamiliar but kind.

The Mandalorian gently took Cobb’s cheek in his hand to turn his face in the right place. “Immensely.” He joked with a small smirk, and ran his thumb down the marshal’s cheekbone. There was a moment of comfortable silence, the two of them sharing the warmth together.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Vanth leaned forward a little. “Or were you waiting for me to be the big man and tell you what I want?”

With that, the bounty hunter captured Cobb’s mouth with his own in a passionate kiss. The moment their lips touched, Din gasped and pressed harder, grabbing both sides of the Marshal’s head. Vanth returned the passion, with a hand in Mando’s hair (Din was beginning to think Cobb really liked his hair), and rubbing Mando’s back with the other.

They moved their tongues together, engaging in a long, hot embrace, before Cobb’s hand wandered down to discover Din’s nakedness.

“Oh, hello,” he purred. “Nice buns, stranger.” He squeezed a cheek much to the bounty hunter’s unamusement. “Really cheeked up back there. I love a good set of-”

“Shut up.” Din hissed, moving to nibble the marshal’s ear. “I thought you had something you were going to do.”

Cobb laughed. “Oh yes,” he was holding up the jar that had been set on the bed. “Time to oil up, stranger.”

Pushing Din down, Vanth settled on his knees between the Mandalorian’s legs after pulling off his own underwear, then spread some lube into his palm, lathering his cock in it, completely blind behind the red scarf. He kept grinning, excitement beaming off of him. The bounty hunter was on his back, propped by his elbows, and watching the display. Cobb’s confident movements and beautiful body, sprinkled with gray hair and tanned skin, was truly a sight to behold. Din felt a tad self conscious about himself, if just for a moment. Did he hold up to Vanth’s standards? Clearly he did to some extent, but their bodies were different in ways that the Mandalorian thought too hard about.

The marshal was lanky, though toned, with graying hair and smooth movements. He was tall with sharp cheekbones and a handsome smile. Din had never smiled in a mirror. He didn’t know what it looked like. He had once noted his nose curved in a way that made him think of a bird. Din’s body was thicker, and he was shorter. His wild curls often tickled his forehead under the helmet, and his facial hair was nowhere near as well kept as Cobb’s marvelous beard.

Din laughed quietly. How stupid. It was ridiculous to compare his own beauty to someone else’s - no one had seen him in over a decade and nobody ever would. These were the sorts of thoughts that would emerge when his armour was off. More reasons to get it over with quickly and into the comfort of his usual beskar shell. Underneath it, he paid no mind to things as petty as looks.

“Okay, relax. Lay back.” Cobb felt outward until he touched the bounty hunter’s chest. He then pushed the Mandalorian down onto his back, and hooked his leg over his shoulder. The marshal took a moment to get comfortable. “Do you need me to rev you up a little, stranger? Get a finger in there?”

“N-no,” Mando swallowed hard and looked at the ceiling. “No, just do it.”

“Alright, stranger. Goin’ in.”

“Din.” Dank ferrick. Fuck. Fuck. Stupid.

The marshal paused. He cocked his head, and turned his face downwards, as if he could see, and for a moment, Mando wondered if the sheriff had lied, and was staring at the man beneath him now.

“What’s that? ‘Din’?” Cobb was grasping the bounty hunter’s leg.

Din took a deep breath and sighed. “My name. Din. Please- not ‘stranger’.”

“Din. Din, Din. Huh.” Vanth smiled widely. He said it a few more times. “Thank you.” He whispered sincerely, and leaned down to kiss the Mandalorian, who quickly moved to meet his lips, or else he would have gotten a wet one to the eye.

The marshal’s blindness was rather amusing as he felt around him to move the jar out of harm’s way, before repositioning himself with a sturdy grip on the Mandalorian. “Alright, Din.” Another smile. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Din replied, and hissed through clamped teeth as he felt Vanth push into him eagerly. His fingers curled around the sheets harshly, and his back arched with the movement of Cobb burying himself deep inside. “Maker-” he gasped.

“Kriff, that’s good. Oh, yeah.” Vanth panted for a second, before pulling out almost all the way, then pushing back in. He did this twice more slowly before picking up speed. His thrusts were precise and confident, like the rest of his personality. His hands moved to either side of Din’s head, adjusting his body, and Mando moved his leg from the shoulder and wrapped his thighs around Cobb’s waist.

The new angle brought a wave of pleasure to crash over the bounty hunter’s body, he spread his arms out, arching and writing in arousal beneath the sheriff. “Fuck- Cobb-”

“Yeah? You like that?” The marshal panted with a wide smile, rolling his hips into Din. “You take it good.”

“Come on,” the Mandalorian grunted, wiggling his hips to encourage his bedmate to move faster. “Move.”

“Oh, kriff, yes,” Vanth withdrew and pushed back in, and began that quick pace again, pounding into the bounty hunter with such speed that the mattress groaned horribly beneath them. Din briefly thought of the kid, wishing he had brought the egg shaped carrier for him to sleep in, lessening the chances of him waking to the sound of the men in bed together. But he knew the child was a fairly heavy sleeper, which settled his mind a bit to allow him to focus on the situation at hand.

A deep warmth shuddered through the Mandalorian’s abdomen, and he moaned louder than intended, grasping at the sheets with renewed desperation. He wished then that he could meet the marshal’s eyes - those striking hazel eyes - but that was too much. He already had the blessing of a name, and Din couldn’t risk giving more than that.

Cobb picked up on the direness of Mando’s need and sat up, gripping Din’s hips with his sturdy hands, allowing the bounty hunter to arch his back, supported by his broad shoulders, and the marshal pushed a few deep thrusts in, grinning ear to ear.

“Come on, baby, come on,” Cobb purred as he went for it, pushing and rolling to get the most out of their new position. “You like that? Oh, you feel so good. Din. Come for me. Come for me.”

The Mandalorian panted and moaned, sweat and sex and heat filling the room, that wonderful tension pooling inside of him and he pushing himself as well as he could to meet the marshal’s perfect thrusting, and he shuddered and gasped as cum shot all over his own stomach, warm and more than eupphric as he rode out the high of his orgasm.

���Oh fuck, yes, Din, good boy,” Cobb kept pounding, quickly, hitting those sensitive spots until Din felt himself fill with warmth as the marshal came hard, shaking and groaning, before he collapsed on top of the bounty hunter was a quiet sigh.

They laid in silence, both panting and hot and sweaty, but together. Din found himself reaching for Cobb’s hair, gently running his hand through it. It was soft and fluffy, and his fingers were able to comb through it seamlessly. This brought a gentle smile to the bounty hunter’s lips.

In turn, Vanth made little circles with his fingers on Din’s chest, humming in satisfaction.

“That was good,” Cobb whispered, seemingly content with not moving. “Nice. Very nice. You’re not half bad.”

“Your thoughtful words are inspiring.”

They both chuckled, and Cobb adjusted himself, slipping himself out carefully, then settling back on the Mandalorian’s chest to continue their post-sex cuddle.

He liked to think of that. That they were cuddling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let someone cuddle him. Certainly not any of his previous endeavours, though to be fair, he had never had sex on a bed with them, so there hadn’t been any chance for something so intimate. Din shifted his weight a little and sighed contently. He figured it must have been his mother or father who had last held him lovingly, but he tried not to dwell on that.

Now, Cobb, still with his scarf on (Din thought the world of that - the marshal was incredibly trustworthy), seemed to be close to sleep, so the bounty hunter gently nudged him.

“I should put something on. The kid might come in here when he wakes up,”

“Hmph.” Vanth huffed against the Mandalorian’s chest, before rolling over to release his bedmate. “Fine, but come right back.”

Din climbed off the bed and found his shorts and shirt, and after climbing into them, he picked the helmet off the floor and stared into the visor. The armour felt heavy in his hands, and the idea of placing it back on was less than appealing after a, dared he say it, fun evening. He glanced back at the mattress, where Cobb lay with his hands behind his head and everything on show, and Din smiled lightly.

A gentle kiss was placed on the marshal’s lips, and when he pulled the scarf from Cobb’s eyes, the bounty hunter had returned the beskar to its usual spot on his head. The sheriff blinked a few times in the dim light as he sat up, with Mando moving to let him past. Cobb slipped his underwear on before climbing back into bed, this time moving the blankets and crawling under.

An extended hand from the marshal was an invitation for the Mandalorian to join him back in the warmth of the bed, and without hesitation, Din joined him, tucking them into the sheets and settling down. The silver haired man wriggled next to Din, resting against his broad chest.

Still sticky with sweat and cum, it was only mildly uncomfortable not to shower immediately, but the bounty hunter knew there was always the morning. The next day would be wildly unpredictable and full of danger, but deep in his gut, the Mandalorian knew it would end well.

As if reading his thoughts, the marshal shifted slightly. “Nervous for tomorrow?”

“No,” Din answered honestly. “We’ll have what we need to defeat the dragon.” “I’m worried about those damn Tuskans.” Cobb huffed. “If something goes awry-”

“It won’t.” The bounty hunter assured. “They’re..a little rough around the edges, but they’ll keep their word and help. Don’t worry about it. Just rest now.”

“Alright,” Cobb laughed a little, rubbing his hand across the other man’s waist. “Din, the Mandalorian. Hell. You’re quite something. It’ll be an honour to take down that Krayt menace tomorrow by your side.”

“Same to you. Rest well, Marshal.”

“Goodnight, Din.”

Cobb drifted to sleep quite quickly after that, leaving Din with his arms wrapped around the marshal and his late night thoughts. He deeply inhaled, smelling the desert winds in Cobb’s hair. The cool evening breeze that drifted from the window was comforting, and the only noises to be heard were crickets, and the drifting of the thin curtain blowing quietly in the wind.

Din was at peace, on that evening, content to lay with a man he enjoyed the company of curled in his arms, and the child safely sleeping in the room next to them. The next day would bring adventure and battle, but now, Din was safe and happy, as he drifted into a deep sleep, in the sanctuary of the marshal’s home.

[linoshan]

DISTRICT 8

series

warnings: suggestive, violent themes, blood

“no entry other than the person concerned, this is the back door”

-

CHAN

tier 1

leader, royalty born, one of the twins

district 6 calling...

“chan! the council is calling, it seems urgent”, changbin yells, pointing at the tv monitor.

chan rolls his eyes, not even glancing his way. “tell them i’m busy” he deadpans, shaking his head as he refocuses back on his game of 8ball with felix.

“you should probably talk to them, you know how mad that wonpil guy gets when you ignore his orders”, felix states as he takes his shot, missing completely. 

chan chuckles.

he takes his cue and walks around the table, finding an angle. he leans down, focusing as he aims for the 8ball.

“..yes sir i understand, but he’s busy and-”

“seo, i see him right behind you”. changbin freezes, then sighs in defeat, moving out of the monitors frame to reveal a not-very-busy chan.

“MR BANG! WE NEED TO TALK! what you did last week was completely out of hand. the districts are a secrecy, it’s risky to act withou-”

clink!

the sound of the cue hitting the ball fills the room.

the 8ball goes in and chan smirks, finally looking up.

“you see. i completely understand that. but quite frankly.. i don’t care.”

-

FELIX

tier 2

the twins’ childhood family friend.

“what in the world happened here?” felix questions with disgust, walking around the half dozen people who are either unconscious or dead.

chan and ryujin laugh, both wiping the blood off of their favorite knives.

felix shivers at the sight. although he grew up with them, he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to the odd behavior of those two.

“what are you doing here lix”, ryujin smiles. “need something?”

“no,” felix says, still feeling disturbed. “i uh, brought cookies. i made them today because i had extra time and i-”

“chocolate chip?” chan interrupts.

“well duh what els-”

“YES!” chan exclaims, jumping up and walking right on the bodies as if they weren’t there.

felixs mouth drops. “oh my god dude.. really?!” he says in horror.

chan shrugs. “what?” he asks as felix shakes his head vigorously. chan reaches for the tin. “give me the cooki-”

“no!” felix says as he retracts it and holds it tightly to his chest. “you don’t deserve it, you.. you- ugh!”

ryujin bursts out laughing.

“what the fuck? you offered me cookies 10 seconds ago and now you’re not. i don’t get it” chan says, completely unaware of his actions.

felix stares at him with his lips parted, slowly shaking his head from side to side.

“i seriously don’t know how we’ve been friends for this long”. 

-

CHANGBIN

tier 2

chans lead man, family friends with royal family.

“the all mighty bang chan. the one they all fear. the son of the failure of a mafia leader,” the man tsked, “-right here, in front of me, wincing in pain” he laughs, turning around as if he’s going to walk away, but instead returns and lands another blow on chans jawline.

“like cmon! what is everyone so afraid of with you?” the man raises his arms in exaggerated disbelief. “what? should i bow?..” he stops to get on one knee “oh king i bow bef-”.

the sound of screaming behind him cuts him off. he turns his head to be met with a leather boot, completely knocking him out.

“took you long enough” chan said, immediately untying himself from the chair. “you know if you weren’t so hard headed, i wouldn’t have to go this far to get you out of the mansion” he says, rubbing his wrists from how previously tight the rope was.

changbin rolls his eyes. “when are you going to stop bothering me on saturday nights? we do violence shit all week. the least you could do is give me ONE night to relax”.

-

MINHO

tier 2

recruited assassin.

“stay away from her, this is your final warning” chan says, poking minhos chest before walking away.

“no”

chan halts his movements, turning around slowly.

“what did you say?” he says through his teeth, cocking his head to the side in disbelief. no one says no to chan, let alone look in his eyes without shivering in fear.

“i said no,” minho shrugs, unfolding his crossed arms and walking over to where chan stood. “your sister is her own person, she decides who she wants to be with for herself,” he says, smirking before continuing, “and by the way, she told me to tell you something if you tried to pull something like this”.

chan furrows his eyebrows, feeling his blood boil.

“she said,” he chuckles. “either you fuck off, or i fuck him”

“who do you think you ar-”

“however!” he cuts in, grinning.

“it’s a little too late for that proposition though, ain’t it?”.

-

HYUNJIN

tier 2

goodfella

( n; a gangster, member of a Mafia family.)

“hyunjin, you have 4 dead bodies around you right now and what you’re concerned about is the blood stain on your coat?”

“its about to be 5 if you don’t shut up. now hand over the stain remover stick.”

-

SEUNGMIN

tier 3 (by choice)

royalty born, cousin to the twins.

“cmon seungmin. we need your help for this one”, changbin says as he stands in the doorway of seungmins room.

“im sure chan can handle it” he says, not looking up from his book.

changbin rolls his eyes, moving to sit on his bed. seungmin furrows his eyebrows at the action.

“your cousin is stubborn. he just wants to act on it but we don’t even know the exact location, how much men are gonna be there, if they’re armed-”

“ok? why are you telling me this. i don’t care. i already told everyone im not about this kind of life”. seungmin says, taking off his round glasses in frustration.

“i know you aren’t. but we really need you for this one. we’re bringing the rookies for this job and i wouldn’t want them to go in blind like this”, changbin sighs.

he hands an ipad over to seungmin. “heres all the info we have about this gang. help us out. please”.

seungmins face softens at the sound of his plead.

great. now he feels guilty.

“fuck”. he groans, taking the ipad from the mans hand as he reaches back for his glasses. he puts them on and quickly swipes through the leads and notes taken by watchmen.

after a minute, changbin slowly stands up.

“thank you. i appreciate this a lot, we all do, especially the twins.. even if they don’t show it”. he looks up to see seungmin not listening, eyes glued to the screen. he sighs with a nod at the sight. “ok, just call me when your done, i’ll be in the-”

“monday, bayside harbor. at exactly 9:34pm. when you get there, there will be 6 guards at the east gate and 4 men by the pier. a shipment is coming in. lethal weapons. make sure they don’t leave with them, it’s most likely going to be used against us”. seungmin says, handing the ipad back over. “now leave. close the door behind you”.

-

JEONGIN

tier 3

just discovered as part of the royal family. clueless to his importance.

*at shipment dock

“yeah. its settled, the tier 3′s and rookies are transferring the weapons to our carrier now”, changbin says to chan on the phone as he looks around the area.

jeongin sighs, turning to jisung. “i can’t wait till i tier up. im getting tired of just transferring heavy boxes from one truck to another” he huffs.

“dude id rather be here then out with 2′s killing people everyday” jisung says, scrunching up his face. “plus.. usually ryujin comes and brings the district 5 girls to transfer locations to overlook everything. thats a win-win to me” jisung grins.

“district 5 girls?” jeongin asks.

jisung mouth drops open. “you’ve never met the district 5 girls? they’re so hot bro”.

jeongin shakes his head, continuing doing his job. “no i haven’t. but i know it’s in the rules that we shouldn’t-”

“hey boys”, yuna interrupts, a smirk evident in her voice.

jeongin turns to where the sound came from, dropping his box at the sight.

-

JISUNG

rookie

unexperienced, mysteriously recruited by chan himself

“why the fuck are there so much rules anyway? fuck the rules! aren’t we like the rebellious criminals of society?? what kind of cool badass criminal follows rules. rules are stupid. rules are pointle-”

“you do understand the serious circumstances you’re under to be here? all these rules are here to protect our circle. if you don’t want to follow the rules then fine. but that’s your fate, not mine or my families.” chan says with all seriousness.

jisung sighs.

“can you stop speaking so medieval? this is a MAFIA not ancient rome”.

“

[avoutput]

Mario Mario & Luigi Mario || Super Mario Bros.

The beginning of any quest has its starting pains. In the early 90’s, Hollywood set out to begin getting a cut of that sweet video game money. At the time, video games were mostly considered toys, and they were advertised as such. As the medium grew more adult, so did its films. Still, they had to begin somewhere, and why not with the biggest gaming property on the planet past and present: Super Mario Bros. This provided an unknowingly impossible challenge for creatives, one that is still a topic of intense discussion to this day. How does one balance the adaptation of a property from a completely different format into film? At the time, other films that looked similar to what Super Mario Bros would become had succeeded despite the challenges of adapting comics for film. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the first re-imagination of Batman since the 60’s went on to invigorate their respective properties. Today, comic book movie adaptations are the tent pole of every major movie studio. In the case of Super Mario Bros, despite its critical failure at the time, I honestly feel like the creatives succeeded. The ire this film would glean over time from both fans and the people behind the camera fuel its bad reception to this day. In my opinion, it is actually a success story in the world of video game adaptations, and a great place to start if you plan on watching every Hollywood attempt. I promise you this: it could be so much worse. And for later attempts, it was! But, does Super Mario Bros thwomp?

In my initial argument, I raised that these films should be broken down into categories including: Originality, Preservation, Construction, Delivery, and Fanservice. Originality and Preservation can be at complete odds with one another. In the case of Super Mario Bros, it turns out to be a good combination of both. They offset each other just enough to find a balance between the reality of our world and the fantasy of the mushroom kingdom. Sit back in your chair and imagine the real world of 1993, what films looked like back then, the landscape of video game culture. I think the creators had this very much in mind when they penned this movie. The very first thing that happens in the Super Mario Bros movie is the NES theme song with all the depth a stereo sound system can provide. It really sets your little gamer heart aflutter. It conjures up images of the brightly colored games. Using narration, they make promises of dinosaurs, meteors, and other dimensions. If you don’t think too hard, it kind of sounds like a version of Super Mario Bros that was advertised via the game manuals and cartoon show. If you are familiar with either, a pair of New York plumbers essentially get sucked down a drain pipe. This process is a little more drawn out in the film, but It turns out more or less exactly as good as could have been expected in 1993. In fact, the film really isn’t above sucking them down a drain pipe, they do crazier things, but I suspect that they wanted the plumbers to have a more direct conflict that would lead them to try and save princess Daisy.

The plot of the film is par for the course in a children's film and a direct consequence of the game itself, especially if you consider the 3rd entry. A good king and an evil military general, betrayals and coups, princesses sent to live in another realm only to return home with a pair of knights to dethrone the evil king. A tale as old as time, one that continues to be retold because it resonates with us. The filmmakers were really focused on this being a performance of realism meets fantasy This would come to be the major struggle that other video game movies would continue to have problems balancing. They took concepts from the game and gave them an original spin and most within the framework of the original work. Their creative license is often challenged for these choices, but in the context of making a live action Super Mario Bros movie in 1993, those challengers should check themselves. The real question you should ask yourself is, in this context, what would you have done differently? And would it really have been better? I struggled to find a way to truly make the concepts of this movie any MORE appealing, but it was surprisingly easy to make it worse. In one way, this film was a by the numbers kids adventure story, but it's being held to task mostly for failing to be a good adaptation of the game, a bar which didn’t exist when they made it, but one they set and cleared simply by attempting to do so much. All the Mario concepts are easily recognizable, which should be applauded, even in the face of them being a little wacky.

Despite its failings in authenticity, it actually packs quite a lot of fanservice into almost every frame. If you pay attention once they enter Bowser’s domain, the walls are littered with little ads and jokes all based on Mario properties. This is all in an effort to please fans, but the film does tend to leave these little things in the background, the camera more focused on the characters and plot, so blink and you miss them. If anything, this duty to fanservice seems somewhat creatively arresting. Had this film not been an adaptation of another work, they may have opted to skip a few things, like how Mario and Luigi employ the use of mushrooms. In the game, these would make the bros bigger, but this would have been a bit at odds with the backdrop of the grimmy New York City analogy they chose, not to mention technically difficult. People have been squashing miniatures for years, but I just don’t see this being a good use of the film’s time given every other decision. The film's overwhelming attempt to create entirely new flesh on the skeleton of an animated game is really only hampered by the audience's willingness to enjoy it for what it is, by questioning every creative decision. A lot of effort was taken to make the world feel cohesive, especially in its attempt to be parallel to existing New York City. They even take time on some more clever jokes that go somewhat unspoken. Everything in Bowser City runs on electricity, including the cars. The idea here is that fossil fuels do not exist because the dinosaurs of this world haven’t ever fossilized. Or maybe the dinosaurs knew it was bad for their planet? The film is constructed and delivered in such a way as to not take itself too seriously, but to appear parallel to something familiar to our own world in conjunction with the Super Mario world.

After having sat through the film with an earnest critical eye, I am not going to tell you the film is greater than the sum of its parts or that it's fantastic because it set out on an uncharted path. Instead, what I will attest to is that it was truly competent. It made every attempt to give you what you wanted and also took a few of their own twists on the formula. Bullet Bills turned into fuel for jumping, Bomb-oms wear Reeboks, shoes facilitate their ability to jump but also satisfy the boot you wear in Super Mario Bros 3. They even use the lightgun from the NES to navigate screens much like a mouse and the SNES super gun as a weapon! All this and still they found a way to make it all fit within the italian brothers from Brooklyn framing. Unfortunately, it would seem no one really learned anything from the success or the failures of this film. If the 90’s game films are any indication, the only thing they learned is that the box office is fickle and to double down on fan service even when it doesn't make sense, and in some cases, abandon everything about the game entirely and simply slap the name on a completely original film. And yet, despite all the bad press and internal struggles the Super Mario Bros production had, they came out the other end with an inoffensive, enjoyable film that both kids and adults can enjoy. Especially if they forgive the film any perceived sins, a gift that all film adaptations deserve, and just try to recognize what they really accomplished. Bringing to life a world that only existed in your Nintendo. It may not have been pretty, but damn if it wasn’t entertaining.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BTHB: Traumatic Touch Aversion

@comfy-whumpee​ requested “Traumatic Touch Aversion” for Antoni and here it is! Antoni’s first meeting with Nat when he came to stay at her safehouse. Also listing @wildfaewhump​ who loves all things Antoni.

CW: Referenced burns/scarring, touch aversion, conditioning, pet whump reference, box boy, self-injury (reopening wound at the end)

They meet in what was supposed to be a brand new subdivision, back before the recession scattered the developers and contractors to the wind and left this grassy cleared patch of ground just outside the city, complete with poured paved little road and a few poured concrete slab foundations, like grave markers for the homes that were never built here, the people who never had the chance to move in.

A reminder of the world where you can do everything right and the whim of a few individuals, who live so far away from you, can create an avalanche that buries your plans. Nat is old hat at that, of course - she’s buried her plans twice now, and built new ones right on top of the old. She was going to work in journalism, and then she was going to be the best marketing director WRU ever had, and then…

And then she walked away.

Bought a house with some of her inheritance from her dad, fixed it up for a few months, and... started over.

She likes this life just fine, because it leads her here, to places like this, to clandestine meetings after dark.

Nat’s truck is parked in a cul-de-sac that loops around empty grass, where they might have built a playground, if the neighborhood had gone up. Or put in a pool. Ahead of her is the SUV of the man she’s meeting, so far out in the sticks that she doesn’t worry about being seen, not here. Not in the evening light, with the sky burning down to night. 

She hops down from the truck, short and strong, her long brown braid smacking in the middle of her back as she goes, in her signature flannel over a t-shirt and jeans. You look like Kurt Cobain’s mom, Jake had told her once, and she’d pointed out that she’d be Kurt Cobain’s little sister, thank you very much, she was in Driver’s Ed when all that happened, and hadn’t that blown his mind for a while. 

She’s smiling, a little, as the breeze picks up. It’s the time of year when the hottest winds blow, licking through her hair and over her skin. Like living in a kiln. Nat feels like she cracks a little more each year in the heat.

Still can’t give up her flannels, though. She’ll be cold in the ground before she wears anything else, ever again. Flannels and sensible sneakers or work boots, and that’s the farmer in her that just refuses to fade away.

Those years wearing suits and heels, she felt like she was playacting, wearing a costume picked out by someone else that didn’t fit. This is who she is, and she can’t be anything else. She wouldn’t be, not ever again, anyway.

“Evening, Nat,” One of the two men she is here to meet calls out, and she raises a hand in greeting. Paul is in his fifties, ten years or so older than Nat herself. He’s been living the lib life for decades, was the one she used to call fifteen times a week with a thousand crises she didn’t know how to solve. 

Now she’s the one the younger safehouse owners call, and it’s kind of funny… in a lot of ways, 42 still feels like 24 felt, only she’s less confused and gives a lot less of a fuck about fitting in or following the expectations set out for what makes a good life.

The other man standing next to him is younger, and doesn’t look up. That’s the one that Nat is really here to see. That’s the rescued runaway pet she’s here, in the end, to try and save.

Nat moves to the older man without hesitation and crushes him tightly to her in a hug, listening to his deep, rumbling laugh. “Paul! How was the drive? Was it good weather all the way?”

“Long,” Paul answers, sardonic as always, patting her back. “Started out rainy, as Washington likes to be up by the coast, and I don’t think I’ve seen an ounce of precipitation since we stayed overnight at the hotel. You’re starting to sound Californian, you know. That Midwestern accent’s slipping away.”

“After twenty years, you’d think it’d be gone.” She laughs, unbothered. “You’re grayer than last time, too.”

“Look, at my age, you’re just happy the hair is there at all, Nat. Where’s Jake? He didn’t want to ride along this time?”

“Hm? Home with the others. He’s talking about going back to college, and so he needs to study, and then we’ve got this new rescue who’s still healing up from some serious injuries he underwent, so Jake doesn’t want to leave... and I don’t blame him. Our newest rescue’s a flight risk in a big way. He wanted to send his greetings, though.”

“Well, tell him I said hi in return.”

“Will do. I was surprised to hear from you, I didn’t think you did out of state drives anymore.” 

Paul clears his throat. “I don’t. But we’ve got a situation, and we had a donor step in and pay for the gas and hotel money.”

Nat nods, her smile fading and moving back to seriousness, as she looks around Paul at the second man, just younger, standing hunched against the side of the SUV, clutching a single small backpack that hangs off one shoulder. “This is the situation?”

“Yeah.” Paul sighs, rubbing at his face with one hand. “This boy popped up at my door a couple of weeks ago, half-starved and pretty clearly abused, and he’s being strenuously hunted. We’ve had three close calls in a week. I had to make a choice, and… you know, I trust you to keep him safe, and I had to get him out of state, as far as I could go. I hate to uproot him when he hadn’t even settled yet, but…”

“Yeah, no, yeah, I get it. I just had a bed open up, Trevor moved in with some roommates in Nevada, did I tell you? All of them former rescues, too, so he’s got good support right there. There’s a coffeeshop owned by someone whose daughter is in the movement who agreed to train him as a barista.”

“Good, good. Trevor’s a good kid, I liked him. This one…” Paul takes a deep breath. “He’s sweet, Nat. But... he’s scared.”

“They all come to us scared,” Nat says, unbothered, giving a shrug and putting her hands in her pockets. “Any memories?”

“Nope. He’s blank, still. I haven’t… he hasn’t even been with us long enough for therapy. But, here, let me introduce you.” Paul steps back, and the young man with the backpack steps forward. He’s wearing the rescue uniform, more or less - sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, nearly every ounce of skin covered, only his neck and face visible, the backs of his hands. “He named himself a couple of days ago. This is Antoni.”

He’s like them all, in his way - nervous and wide-eyed, young and beautiful, afraid of her and drawn to her. She can see the signs without even having to consciously notice them - the mop of dark hair in bad need of a good cut, the fear in his eyes, the way he’s skin and bones even underneath the baggy clothes designed to hide a body that didn’t belong to him for too long. 

“Hello, m-ma’am,” The boy says, quietly, his dark, slightly feline eyes flickering from her to Paul, seeking reassurance or praise for making the right choice. 

Nat’s head cocks to the side, and she notes the way the boy flinches a little at the quick movement. He’s a skittish one - that usually means violence was a part of his daily life, and he’ll need to learn how to live without fearing it. “Does he have…”

“An accent? Yeah. Eastern European or Russian or something. Says he only speaks English, but... sometimes he speaks something else. He doesn’t seem to notice when he does it.” Paul turns, and holds out his hand, gesturing the young man forwards. 

Nat watches the boy give a wide berth to Paul’s hand, the way his long fingers clutch more tightly at the backpack strap on one side and the hem of his shirt. He turns to look towards the entrance of the subdivision that never was, watching for cars who might have tracked them, and Nat’s eyes widen - and then she forces her expression back to neutral before the boy can notice - as she sees the bright red, still-healing circular burn on the side of the boy’s neck. “Paul, are we dealing with-”

“Don’t know.” Paul sighs. “Hasn’t even been safe long enough to get a doctor out to give him a checkup. We’ve kept him moving from house to house to house without even taking a deep breath, so… he could use a rest.”

There are deep, deep shadows under the young man’s eyes, settling above his starkly carved cheekbones, and she… she can’t argue with Paul’s assessment. This is a boy who needs a week of sleep, a month of safety, to even begin rebuilding. “Fair enough. You go on ahead, we’ll give it ten or fifteen and then head out.”

“Perfect. I’ll give you a call in a couple days, see how he’s settling in. That sound all right?”

“Works for me.” Natalie watches the new rescue - Antoni - as Paul climbs back into his SUV, turns the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to nearly-silent life. Antoni doesn’t look back at him like some rescues do, desperate for a final glance. He only steps away, to give the vehicle more space, as Paul gives them one last wave and drives away.

The boy’s expression is unreadable, as Paul’s SUV turns left out of the subdivision, and he disappears into the growing night. She can’t tell if he cares, and she can’t tell if he doesn’t care. There’s nothing in his eyes at all but that same darkness.

Nat sighs. Well, they’ll figure it out as they go, or they won’t. “Okay, Antoni, my name is Natalie Yoder. I’m house mom for a safehouse you’ll be staying in from here on out.”

The boy looks back at her, and his dark eyes are fathomless and deep. “Okay, Natalie Yoder,” He says, and yes, that’s definitely an accent that softens his vowels, changes the consonants a little. She can’t quite name the accent, but… he definitely has one. 

“Call me Nat. I live down in the city-” She gestures behind her, vaguely. “And I’ve got a house there with some others like you, all right? We can keep you safe here. You did the first big thing, you walked away. Now it’s up to us to help you with the rest.” She holds out her hand, and - just as she thought - the young man jerks violently backwards, nearly tripping on himself, his shoulders hunched defensively nearly up to his chin.

Nat lets her hand drop.

“I, I do not… touch,” The young man says, clinging to his backpack strap. Nat lets her hand drop, watching the fear tightening his features, setting his jaw to trembling, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Please, please, I do not-... I do not touch.”

Nat puts both hands up in an I’m innocent gesture, taking one step back and then another, giving him some space to get around her. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, not with me and not at the house, not at all.”

The boy stares at her, and the sun is setting rapidly this far up in the hills, taking the hint of golden light that falls across his face and dimming it. “Please,” He whispers, and the sound barely carries to her. “Please, I, I cannot-... please-”

“That’s just fine,” Nat says, pitching her own voice lower, soothing. “You’re still fine, Antoni.” When he doesn’t relax, Nat swallows against her own reflexive distaste and adds, “You’re still a good boy.”

There it is. His shoulders relax, and he lets out a breath, an audible exhale, stepping a little closer to her. “I am? If I do not touch, still?”

Nat presses her lips together, wondering if Paul’s report that this new rescue was a Domestic holds water at all. Not that designations mean shit to people with no empathy and total control over another human being… “Yes, Antoni. You’re still good. Let’s get in the truck and head back, yeah? Can you get in the truck for me? I’ll stay right here.”

Simple, easy directions, and a safe distance. Antoni moves around her to the passenger side of the truck, and she gives him the time he needs, pulling her phone out from her back pocket to text Jake that the new rescue is here, and she’ll be heading home with him shortly.

Cool ok, comes Jake’s fast reply. Kauri’s a mess. Fever’s up and he took all his clothes off and got in bed.

Please don’t tell me your bed.

What do you think? He’s back on the couch and dressed though. I gave him something for the fever. Call Masood in the morning? This shit isn’t strong enough.

Nat knows how that feels.

By the time she gets into the driver’s seat, Antoni has himself settled, seatbelt buckled, hands in his lap, and… his backpack is firmly stuck between the two of them, right in the center of the seat, a slight barrier but a barrier nonetheless. 

He’s only been out for two weeks. He probably has some toiletries and a change of clothes or two in there, and that’s it. Maybe a book if he was allowed to remember how to read. But any way of giving himself space is better than no space at all.

When she reaches down to shift gears, Antoni flinches away, pressing himself to the inside of the door, his dark eyes locked on her hand.

“It’s a stick shift,” Nat says, softly. “I’m going to do this a lot. I’m not trying to touch you.”

His eyes move, reluctantly, from her hand to her face. “Please,” He says, and his voice is soft, and perfectly pitched. He’s been trained to beg, Nat thinks - she’s seen that before. She’s heard this voice before. “Please, please do not touch me. I will be good, whatever you need, just… do not touch.”

Nat takes a deep breath and rests her foot on the gas, cautiously moving out of the cul-de-sac and back onto the road, leaving the subdivision that never was, with its overgrown grass and brambles and the hot autumn winds blowing hard enough to rattle the dried-out leaves in the trees, behind. 

One new rescue, still sick from an infected wound, who can’t stop trying to touch everything that moves and has tried to talk Jake into bed at least three times - and one new rescue with an unmistakable cigarette burn on his neck who is so scared of being touched he starts begging before Nat can even get him home.

“This should be fun,” She mutters, not aware she’s even spoken aloud.

I am sorry. Antoni mouths the words, but Nat isn’t looking at him, and she doesn’t see him do it. As they drive down the hills towards the city, with its twinkling lights, he watches out the window, looking he hopes towards the north, wondering if he can ever apologize enough to earn forgiveness for the choice he made to leave the woman behind and run.

His right hand moves, pressing into his left arm, rubbing his thumb again and again over a certain spot just inside his wrist, rubbing right through the ribbed knit of the cuff of his sleeve, pressing and pressing and pressing until he feels the healing burn break open again, the bright flash of pain.

He relaxes a little, eyes closing, leaning heavily against the door as Nat turns on the radio and grumbles about what counts as classic rock now. 

It’s not that the ashtray, who has chosen the name Antoni, hates being touched.

It’s that he doesn’t deserve touch that doesn’t hurt.

---

Tagging @astrobly​, @finder-of-rings​, @burtlederp​ @slaintetowhump​ @moose-teeth​ @dhiabori @oofowouchies @doveotions​