#takes like 1 hour back home and you’ve hit the block and got a full bag

[buggyandthebartoclub]

Trick or treating is done and kiddo is ZONKED thank god it was chilly and I’m HUNGRY AHHHH fed the kiddo before we left but not me 😵‍💫

Grabbing some food then I can do trick or treat sketches 💕💕

[fountainpenguin]

"Watch as he buckles and bends but never breaks... No mistakes!" (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! Only the most expected Traffic SMP content in this 'fic <3

Chapter 7 - “Firebreak (Etho)”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

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After dumping PiglinMyNose off at Jimmy's game night, Etho searches the portal hub for SnifferMyFeet. Pig may have laughed in his face over the whole "let me look at your code so I can rebuild Joel's vessel" thing, but maybe Sniff will take the bait?

AKA - The one where Etho drinks his Respect Camera Account juice, discovers he has a half-ex, and commits a crime.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

Etho

Self-Taught Programmer

Full-Time Hero

💚  💛  ❤️

Etho doesn’t make a habit of frequenting Jimmy’s parties. Tango’s? Sure; he loves the guy. Tango knows how to play him like a note block, hitting all his greedy keys and collector’s instincts. Tango deals cards of his own making. He customizes every party like a snare. And he themes his snacks; that man does not cut corners. Which isn’t a slight at Jimmy; no, no, no! It’s just…

… My line of work never lends itself to drinking. Especially on nights like tonight. Oh boy. He’s got a whole lot of work to do. As he and PiglinMyNose approach the card shop, Etho pulls the communicator from his pocket and glances at the screen. Right, okay. Three things to note here:

One full Overworld day/night cycle has passed since Joel’s vessel started disintegrating.

He gets twelve before the Between dimension kicks him to his original soul spawner. If it’s still standing. It needs to be standing; Etho’s hearts can’t take another strand of pressure.

Three hours is not a lot of time to do the aforementioned ‘a whole lot of work.’

Well, this is why they think I pull off miracles. He’s never failed before… in a way that anyone would hold against him. But as they climb the outdoor stairs towards the roof of the card shop, Etho… presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek. So, Pig bailed. If I don’t find a new model, I’m dead in the water. Then Joel’s going back to spawn town.

Yeah. Because he totally wants to be the one to tell Lizzie her husband isn’t coming home.

Etho’s comm is still glowing blue. His screen displays a pulsing infinity sign, indicating his player’s still online (definitely fiddling around on the single-player). All the block updates are logged to the world file and since he’s playing solo, Etho technically doesn’t need to be there… though his neck twitches instinctively in that direction, and in his newbie days he definitely couldn’t have broken the pathfinding pull. That’s one of the benefits of dedicating your whole life to a couple single-player series, actually. Once you’ve been around long enough, you’ve got a system. You get a feel for when it’s okay to step away without everything crashing down.

But time ticks regardless. Once he passes into sunset hour, the screen in his hand will glow orange. And when it hits green… Well.

That’s phantom hour. And no one ever makes it to the end of phantom hour.

Correction: One person has. But that’s because Martyn pushes himself farther than his body can handle for the sake of his newest partner in crime. He’s stupid soft on them. Not Etho’s business; just a rumor he heard floating between Pearl and BigB a couple months ago.

Anyways. Yeah, he’s got time to be here. When the big boss logs out, the infinity sign will click over to a timer and start ticking down. Etho’s an oldie; he’s built up his stamina and he can last in Between longer than most. Maybe… six hours without a break? That sounds right these days. He’s pulled multi-play sessions before, and though they leave him exhausted, he’ll do it again. He’ll do it a thousand times for no one but himself. It’s relaxing, honestly. No one can need you when you’re the only one in the friend group left awake.

“Pig, can I see your comm?”

Piggy Boy moves like he wants everyone to know he’s a newbie, loud and clear. His mismatched shoes smack on every step. Jimmy always hosts his parties in the rooftop garden of Beef’s card shop and Pig skirts back and forth, peering over the stairs. They’re nice stairs; Scott put a lot of thought into picking a stone design that isn’t slippery. Pig leans so far that he drips blue slime droplets on the road below. He stares for a few seconds, then seems to register the question. His comm’s on his wrist. He extends his arm towards Etho without looking over. Etho glances at the screen. The timer’s steadily pulsing, orange glow undeniable.

I guess that makes sense. He’s Joel’s camera account… and Joel’s player would’ve been kicked when his vessel broke apart. That’s probably what this whole thing translates to in the outside land. A weird bug. Another glitch in the system. Overheated device, maybe. Nothing a little turning things on and off again won’t fix. Thoughts and prayers. Give it time.

Etho blinks, quietly, and tries not to envy Watcher Joel.

“Oh! Oh, what in the world? Dude, I’ve never actually seen the clock tower before! Any other day, I’d just go straight home. Sniff’s so fussy when I’m late; he’s just one of those silly gooses.”

“Pig, come on,” Etho calls softly. “Let’s keep it moving. You’re gonna drip all over the stairs. Let’s keep moving, okay?”

Pig bobs his head and sprints up the rest of the stairs to the garden. Oh boy. Etho keeps right on his heels. There’s chatter, but it’s pretty mild at this time of afternoon. Even with the break they took after the server glitch, Grian still let them out early and Jimmy’s got a couple hours to go before game night starts. As Etho crests the final step, he spots the canary-winged man hanging up a little ‘Welcome’ banner, chatting with BigB and Tango. Tango’s really into it, making wild arm gestures. His flicking tail could knock the feathers off a chicken. BigB sits on the railing with his moth wings twitching, glancing back like he’s watching for someone to pass through the streets below. And Impulse stands on Tango’s other side, rubbing his eyes with intent to kill. Geez. Somebody squirt hot sauce in them or something?

None of them pay any attention to the two newcomers at the top of the stairs. Bdubs and Martyn, however, snap around like they’ve been shot. They abandon the azalea they were looking at so fast, it’s like they were waiting for an excuse. Ah. They can smell Pig’s invisible sync cord ticking down through sunset hour. It’s what phantom hybrids do.

“Heeeey, gorgeous,” Bdubs crows, ducking forward. He keeps his hands clasped behind his back, his mossy cloak swishing like a cape behind him. Now that they’re off the Dog’s Life server, Bdubs isn’t using his battered, bruised skin anymore. His smile could sink a sandstorm. There’s light and dancing in his sugar-brown eyes, and Etho wraps a warning arm around Pig’s shoulders. Bdubs ticks his tongue and veers away at a slant. “You’re off spectator for the evening, huh? I see how it is! Well, you’re in luck. It’s party time tonight and you’re in the best part of town!”

Pig, oblivious, smiles back at him. “There he is! Well, hello there! And yeah, I’m doing fantastic, actually; we love to see it.”

Jimmy’s distant voice trails off. He turns. Etho catches one split-second of shock before Martyn’s head blocks his view. Martyn straightens, poised as though presenting himself before a king, with a glass of sparkling cyan balanced in his hand. “Aww, it’s baby’s first corporeal night, then? Come get a drink, Pig! It is ‘Pig,’ right? We’ve got 1s.”

“What’s 1s?” Pig asks, absently brushing Etho’s arm from his shoulder. Etho presses his lips together, but doesn’t replace it. He steps to the side, a little closer to Bdubs.

“You know! Numbers!” Martyn thrusts his glass in the air. The binary code sloshes around inside. “It’s the blue one. Tastes a bit like sushi and a li’l like chocolate. Give it a sip, if you’re up for it. You might like it. Though it’s a little flat this time of eve, if I’m honest… It’ll perk up once the night gets rolling.”

Pig reaches for Martyn’s glass, which sends Martyn backpedaling and spluttering, telling him to keep his mitts off and go fetch his own. Etho winces.

“Pig, you might wanna stick to 0s…”

“I want a glass of 1s,” he says, pushing forward, and Martyn, beaming, swings an arm around Pig’s neck.

“Well, you heard the guy! He maxes out experience points tonight. Let’s get him his 1s!”

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[handsomelyhiddleston]

Sticky Notes - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

It all started on the set of Ragnarok. They hadn’t even started filming yet. Table reads, choreography, costume fittings, set development…The cast, crew, and even Taika started finding little notes.

Some were specifically to certain people…

“Your laugh is contagious. Thank you for making this set so down to earth and inviting.” You slipped that into Taika’s (the director’s) fanny pack when he left it on his director’s chair.

“I know how hard you’ve been working on your fight choreography, and I just wanted to let you know you absolutely killed it today!” You left that stuck to Tessa’s (Valkyrie’s) water bottle.  

Some you posted for everyone, like “I know that you all put such amazing effort and time into bringing this movie to life and I just want you all to know that it doesn’t go unnoticed.” That note was posted above a table full of ‘easy to grab’ snacks you laid out such as protein bars, fruit snacks, pretzels, and dried fruit.

This continued well into filming. Everyone had tried to figure out who was leaving these little daily encouragements. It got to the point that Taika started calling you Casper, as in “Casper the Friendly Ghost.” Every day at the start of filming he would say. “Come on guys. Let’s make Casper proud.”

Everyone had a theory. Most thought that it was actually Taika just trying to keep morale up. Taika accused Tom but took it back after some comment about the notes not sounding very British.

Your job on set was to cast extras. While you were present daily, you honestly only had to meet with Taika once or twice a day to make sure the next day’s cast extras were ready. You two fell into an easy rhythm working together and he started asking for your opinion on some other aspects of the set. One late afternoon, after an incredibly chaotic day of filming, Taika decided that he was going to scrap the entire scene and start it over.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text to you, Tom, and Chris. “Today can suck it. I’ve just watched the dailies, and something just isn’t right about that scene. Meet at mine in 30 so we can get ahead of it.” A few seconds later he added, “And for the love of God, someone bring some tequila.”

You laughed at his text, jogging to the trailer you shared with the other casting director. You changed into a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt and grabbed your keys and wallet. You jumped in your car so you could make a quick trip to the Starbucks down the street since it appeared it was going to be a long night.

“One Venti iced coffee with milk and 1 sugar, one Grande Americano hot with cream and 2 sugars, one Venti hot latte with vanilla, and one Venti hot water with two earl gray tea bags and four sugars on the side. Can I also get one of the small kid’s milk boxes?” You heard the barista repeat your order back and pulled forward and paid.

When you got to Taika’s trailer, Tom and Chris were already there.

“Oh, bless you” Taika thanked you, taking the Latte from you.

“You’re the best” Chris said, taking the lid off of the Americano so it would cool off a bit.  

“Tom, I grabbed you tea.” You handed him the hot water and two tea bags, setting the sugars and milk next to him so he could make it to his liking.

“You’re too kind” Tom graciously took the hot water from you, noting that you grabbed his favorite kind of tea.

In Taika’s trailer there was a table with a bench on each side. Chris and Tom were sat on one side, leaving a space for you to sit next to Taika.

“Anyone grab the tequila?” you laughed, dropping your keys and wallet on Taika’s counter and sitting at the table with your iced coffee.

Taika grabbed the bottle and sat it down in front of you. “You’re already two swigs behind, love.”

“Bullshit” you laughed. “Prove it. Where are the shot glasses?”

“I said swigs, not shots” Taika smirked. “We don’t have shot glasses.”

“Look at how much is missing from that bottle. I just bought it.” Hemsworth backed Taika up.

You looked at Tom, knowing he would be honest with you.

“Hey, you trust Tom more than me?” Taika pretended to be offended.

“Tom always looks out for everybody. I don’t think he’d let me get two shots drunker than you fools.” You teased Taika, poking his side and sticking your tongue out at him.

“Watch” Taika said, putting his arm around your shoulders and looking towards Tom. “How many swigs did we all take?”

Tom laughed, “I’m sorry darling, but he’s telling you the truth.”  

“Fine, fine.” You opened the bottle and took three swigs, handing it to Taika. “Catch up, then.”

Tom started thinking about the compliment you had given him as he took his third swig of Tequila. He felt flattered that you felt that way, but it also reminded him of one of the notes he had found stuck to his trailer door.

“Okay, we need to re-block this whole scene. It just did not translate from script to screen…” The four of you worked on a few line changes and mapped out a better way to execute the scene for over two hours.

There was a bit of dialogue that Taika felt was getting lost that he really just didn’t want to let go of. “We may just have to mess with this tomorrow while we’re filming.”

“Or you could have Loki say it instead of Thor.” You suggested.

“Could do.” You could tell that Taika was thinking it over.

“Here you have Thor immediately going into another hard-hitting line” you explained. “If that line comes from Loki, it makes it less likely to get lost.”

“I think that will fix this problem too” Chris started underlining other parts of the dialogue.

“What do you think?” Taika looked at Tom.

“I mean, I personally think Loki has already evolved enough at that point in the script that it suits him quite nicely.” Tom explained in a way only Tom can explain.

“I agree” you said. “You guys make Loki grow quite a bit in this film and as usual, Tom is hitting it out of the park. I’m 100% confident he will have conveyed that message to the audience by this point.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” Again, Tom was flattered. However, he was growing more and more suspicious that you were Casper.

“Always” you replied, smiling at Tom as you finished your coffee.

“Let me type this up and we can table read it.” Taika grabbed the papers and went to the other side of the trailer where his computer was set up.

“While you do that, I’m going to steal your restroom for a moment.” Chris stood, throwing his empty coffee cup away and closing the bathroom door. Chris joined Taika a moment later.

“Y/n?” Tom said, kind of quietly.

“What’s up?” Your elbows were resting on the table with your chin sat on your hands.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom didn’t want to bring it up in front of anyone. He didn’t want the notes to stop, but he had to know.

Tom looked a bit serious, but you didn’t know why. “Of course.”

“Are you…” He stopped, reaching his hand into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. “Is this you?”

Your eyes went wide as Tom pulled a small stack of pink sticky notes out of his wallet, laying them down next to each other. There must have been 10 of them in total. You were touched that he actually kept them. Sometimes you felt silly leaving them for people not knowing if they appreciated them. You tried to play it off, laughing. “I thought those were from Taika?”

He pointed at one of them, reading it quietly. “I tried the tea you always drink. I don’t think it could ever replace my love of coffee, but I wanted you to know it pairs well with a good book.” He pointed to another note. “I know you paid for everyone to Uber home after our last night out. I just wanted to tell you I appreciate you. Thank you for always looking out for us.” You could feel his eyes on you as he moved his hand to a third note. “I envy your ability to capture a room. You’ve got an amazing knack for making those watching you feel whatever emotion you’re trying to convey.” When Tom’s hand moved to the fourth note, you heard Taika’s printer turn on.

“Put them away” you said, trying to stack them quickly. Chris started walking towards you and you grabbed the small stack you had gathered and put them in your pocket.

Tom put the rest back in his wallet. “What do you think?” he asked Taika about the changes he had made.

“I think tomorrow is going to be a lot fuckin’ better.” He passed the printed copies around after joining the two of you back at the table.

Tom’s line went over great, and the dialogue flowed much more smoothly. All of the other changes made the scene feel more natural. When Taika called it a night, Chris laid down on the couch refusing to go back to his own trailer.

“Can I walk you to yours?” Tom asked as you stepped out of Taika’s trailer.

The two of you walked back to your trailer in comfortable silence, tired and a little drunk. When you got to the door, you turned around and pulled the pink notes out of your pocket.

“Please don’t tell anyone?” You placed the notes in Tom’s hand.

“I didn’t plan on it” he replied, tucking them neatly back into his wallet.

“I feel silly now that someone knows it was me. Why did you keep them?” You had to ask. You assumed, at most, that people read them, smiled, and threw them away.

“Hmm…” Tom laughed humorlessly, his eyes focused on his wallet. “I think you’re doing a lot more than you realize when you leave your ‘silly’ little notes.”

His response caught you off guard. He almost sounded…sad? Serious?

“Y/n, I’ve had to work with actors and crew that have made filming a project miserable. Whether they were rude or critical or just an absolute diva, there is always someone to bring the room down.” He put his wallet away and looked you in the eyes. “I wish you knew how many of us have kept these notes. Taika has them in the glovebox of his car. The catwalk above the set is covered in notes you’ve left the crew. They’re stuck all over the mirrors in the make-up trailer so that the cast sees them first thing in the morning.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

Tom put his hands on each of your arms as if to ensure you were paying attention. “An encouraging word or a genuine compliment can change someone’s entire day, y/n. You have no way of knowing what life has dealt any of these people. They could be depressed or stressed out or wishing they hadn’t woken up that morning…and all of a sudden they receive a tiny bit of kindness from someone and it makes it that much easier to get through another day. Maybe even with a smile on their face.”

Tom wore a soft smile and even though you felt a bit overwhelmed, you couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for telling me that.” You moved towards him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Please don’t forget it.” Tom pulled back a bit and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I hope you get a good night’s sleep.”

“You, too.” You watched Tom walk away before slipping into your shared trailer.

Over the next few weeks, Tom had left you multiple green sticky notes with compliments written on them.

“You looked stunning yesterday”

“Thank you for still being a good listener when I go on rants about things you couldn’t care less about”

“Taika was bragging about you to someone on the phone. I just wanted you to know. I know sometimes you hesitate to suggest your ideas, but you shouldn’t.”

“I appreciate how much time you spend making this a better set to work on.”

“You are an incredible friend.”

You’d find at least one note a day and for every note he left you, you’d leave one for him. The two of you got quite a bit closer after he found out about your secret. You’d spend breaks on set together and often times wound up back in Taika’s trailer with him and Chris. You cuddled and flirted and shared more than a few loving glances, but you never went any further. It felt like it was turning into something more, but Tom was such a gentleman you couldn’t tell.

The note you found this morning, however, completely caught you off guard. The filming was almost done and everyone’s time on set was almost over. You had just sat down next to the director’s chair and opened your laptop. There, stuck to the screen, was a green sticky note. “Darling, would you please be mine?”

You looked up at Tom on stage only to find him already looking at you. He lifted his brow and tilted his head, waiting for your response. You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded ‘yes’.

Taika looked between you, noticing the interaction and intentionally teasing you. “Oi, what’s this then?”

Tom turned, trying to hide his grin by talking to Chris. You closed your laptop to hide the sticky note.

“Nah, I saw you two. Don’t pretend like I’m crazy.” Taika was still looking back and forth between you and Tom.

“Maybe you’re still drunk from last night” you teased, putting your laptop in its bag so you could retrieve the note later.

“Oh, sure.” He dropped it, knowing he’d bring it up tonight when you all gathered in his trailer.

The rest of the filming flew by crazy fast. You and Tom had decided that you would go stay with him in New York until the press junkets and interviews started. When the premier rolled around, you two were already publicly dating so you got to escort him down the red carpet. It had been just over a year since the two of you had started dating.

As the credits for the film started rolling, you felt like you were walking down memory lane. So many people go into making movies of this scale and watching all of the names roll by, one by one, really puts that into perspective. You’d met almost all of these people and worked closely with quite a few of them. As the credits came to an end, you saw that Taika had added an extra credit.

The last few “SPECIAL THANKS” credits were in order as listed…

“The filmmakers acknowledge the assistance of the New Zealand Government’s Screen Production Grant”

“The filmmakers would like to acknowledge the Yugambeh and Bundjalung Peoples of Australia”

“The director would like to thank ‘Casper’, Ragnarok’s own personal friendly ghost”

It had been a year since you’d written one of those notes and it caught you off guard. Tom put his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I told you.”

You and Tom mingled amongst your friends at the after party. Taika was flying. He was so happy with how it turned out and grateful for such a positive response. Everyone in the cast was telling stories from filming and catching up with their friends. By the time you two got back to your hotel room, you were blissfully tipsy and exhausted. You slipped out of your dress and threw on a baggy t-shirt before washing your face and getting ready for bed. When you left the bathroom, you saw Tom sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas with a soft, warm smile gracing his beautiful face. He was wearing his glasses and his hair was a mess and he could not have been more attractive if he tried.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling you to stand between his legs.

“Pretty good. How about yourself?” you put your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his.

“I think there’s only one thing that could make me happier in this moment.” He answered.

You thought he was being a bit cheeky, so you replied with, “oh, yeah? I wonder what that could be.”

Tom reached behind him on the bed and pulled out a small box with a worn, green sticky note on top of it. He didn’t say anything, letting you read it. It was the same note he had left stuck to your laptop screen. “Darling, would you please be mine?” Only now the word “forever” was written at the bottom.

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 3}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2807

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Poseidon

– God of the seas, earthquakes, horses and tidal waves

Aelin had moved past hurt.

Now, she was just pissed.

It was nearly ten o'clock after her second day of classes and she sat cross legged on the couch with Lysandra in her apartment.

Her roommate had been a worthy rant partner thus far. She’d kicked Aedion out and supplied Aelin with an endless supply of alcohol.

“It’s official. I’m sitting in your Thursday class.”

Aelin groaned, taking a long drink from her wine glass. “Don't remind me that I have to go back there, please. The thought of sitting through an entire semester with him as my teacher… Oh, gods.”

Lysandra refilled Aelin’s glass.

“You’ve done the hookup thing before,” Lysandra said, shrugging as she took a drink from her own glass. “Just pretend this is one of those situations and he meant absolutely nothing.”

“That’s impossible, for two reasons,” Aelin said, adjusting the pillow she had squished between her legs. She held up a finger. “One, it’s not like the regular hookup situation where I might see him across campus or in a bar and we can pretend we don’t know each other. This is my professor we’re talking about.” She took a very large drink of her wine and held up another finger. “Secondly, it was supposed to be a hookup, but then he turned out to be perfect and I just…” She let her head fall back against the cushions. “Do you think I just want him because I can’t have him?”

“Maybe,” Lysandra admitted, but she hadn’t ever been in a situation like this. She and Aedion had been inseparable since high school. “What does your gut say?”

“I don’t know, they’re still in knots from where he rearranged them with his huge dick,” Aelin replied, draining her wine glass.

Lysandra nearly sprayed her wine across the couch, but she knew Aelin was well and truly drunk if she was talking like that.

“So, he still means something to you, then?” Lysandra asked. “Even after you found out he’s your professor, and also a little bit of a dick, apparently.”

Aelin shot her a look. “No, I’m drunk off my ass because he means nothing to me. Have you not been listening?”

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’ve been listening. But, after two hours things just start to blur together and not make sense.”

Aelin hit her roommate with her pillow.

Lysandra only laughed. “Maybe sit and think on it for a few days, yeah? Maybe it’s new and exciting and he’s hot as hell, but all that will fade if it meant nothing.”

Aelin nodded, slowly, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass. “And if it doesn’t fade? If it actually meant something?”

“If it actually meant something, then he won’t be forgetting about you any time soon, either,” Lysandra said, sipping from her glass.

She was still on glass #1.

Aelin had lost count of how many glasses she had drained so far.

“Doesn’t make it any easier now,” Aelin said, that hurt creeping its way back in. “You should’ve seen him, Lys. This morning, at his apartment, it was just…perfect. Then when he saw me in class, he was a completely different person.”

“Have you tried to see this from his perspective, Ace?” Lysandra asked, standing and heading into the kitchen. She handed Aelin a cold water bottle when she returned, falling back onto the couch next to her.

“Of course,” she snapped, opening the lid. “And I get it, it’s a big deal, but it’s not like I’m underage. I’m twenty-one, not sixteen. It’s not like he broke the law.”

“No, but I’m sure there’s a bylaw somewhere in his contract that says Don’t fuck your students,” Lysandra drawled, tucking her legs between her.

Aelin mumbled, “I bet it doesn’t say exactly that.”

“No, I’m sure it’s more along the line of inappropriate misconduct, but if we’re getting specific, it wouldn’t be hard for me to find an example,” she replied, leveling Aelin with a stare.

“Calm your pre-law ass down, I get it,” Aelin sighed, drinking from the water bottle. “His aunt is the president of the university. I wouldn’t want him to get into any trouble with her.”

Lysandra’s eyes softened. “He probably just got scared. I hear he’s a new professor. This must be his first year here. Hell, if he’s as young as you say, this must be his first year anywhere.”

Luck. He’d gotten the job purely out of luck, out of his connections to the university, and here Aelin was, jeopardizing his career as soon as it began.

“I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?” She asked, quietly, before draining her glass.

“You have the right to be hurt,” Lysandra said. “I’m not saying you don’t have that right, because I’d be hurt, too. But, I definitely think that this is complicated as hell.”

Aelin nodded, and took a drink of water before pouring the last of the wine into her glass. “We’re going to need another bottle of this, Lys.”

“I would just take you to the bar,” Lysandra said, “but I wouldn’t want to risk you fucking any of the other faculty.”

Aelin’s eyes snapped to hers.

Lysandra sucked in her lips to stop her grin. “Too soon?”

Aelin nudged her best friend, unable to stop her sputtering laughter. “Bitch.”

Lysandra caught her before she leaned back across the couch and held onto her shoulders, hugging her tightly. “I know this sucks, Ace, and I know you liked him. But just give it time. Either you’ll move on, which I can always help with, or something will happen. It’s not like you won’t be seeing him every other day.”

She sighed, resting her head on Lysandra's shoulder. “I know… I know.”

Lysandra reached for the remote, turning the television on. “What would make you feel better? Sappy love story, trashy reality tv, or a horror flick?”

“Trashy tv,” she decided, if for no other reason than it would be easy for her to block out while she still wallowed in her own misery.

Lysandra did as she was told, refilling Aelin’s glass again, and she thanked her best friend.

All the while, Aelin wondered how pissed Rowan was, or if he was feeling the same way she was.

*

A knock on Rowan’s door around nine-thirty had him closing his laptop and throwing it open. He groaned when he found Lorcan on the other side, walking back inside and leaving his best friend to let himself in.

“Alright, fill me in on Little Miss Perfect you took out last night. She was all you could talk about this morning, and then boom.” He sat down on the couch next to Rowan, noticing the half empty bottle of bourbon and looked at him. “Radio silence for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t you be going home to your girlfriend?”

“She’s out with Manon,” Lorcan said, blowing off the question. “I’m bored, so talk.”

Rowan sighed, pushing himself up to go into his kitchen. He came back a moment later, two glasses in hand. He supposed he couldn’t continue to drink out of the bottle with company.

After handing Lorcan a half-filled glass, Rowan said, “It’s just not going to work.”

“You decided that quickly,” Lorcan muttered, his eyes remaining locked on Rowan. “Did you google her after she left? Find something cringeworthy?”

Rowan sipped from his glass. “She’s just not who I thought she was, that’s all.”

Lorcan scoffed. “You’re being vague.”

Rowan shrugged. That seemed to be the only answer he was going to give him.

“So what?” Lorcan asked, crossing an ankle over his knee and swirling the contents of his glass. “She lied and you caught her?”

“No, she didn’t lie,” Rowan said, dragging a hand down his face. “But it can’t happen. So it won’t.”

Lorcan raised one dark eyebrow. “First you say won’t, now you say can’t.”

Rowan emptied his glass. “What about it?”

“Well, which one is it?” He asked, leaning back. “Those two have very different meanings.”

“It can’t and it won’t,” he replied, giving Lorcan a pointed look.

Lorcan snorted, but took a drink from his own glass. “You act like she’s one of your students.”

Rowan didn’t say a word. He only stared at his closed laptop.

It took Lorcan a few seconds to understand Rowan’s silence. And a few more before he figured out how to make his mouth work.

And when he did, he started laughing.

“Are you kidding me, Whitethorn?” He asked, clutching his stomach. “You fucked your student?”

“Fuck off,” Rowan muttered, refilling his glass.

Lorcan was hardly able to breathe. “It was your first day at your first big boy job, and you already found yourself in bed-.” His words faded away as his laughter consumed him.

“It’s not like she’s some freshman,” Rowan snapped. “She’s about to graduate. Twenty-one. I just…” Rowan groaned as his face fell into his hands. “Someone had recommended the bar to me and told me the faculty hung out there a lot. I just assumed she was one of them, since she was the one to suggest the place.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Lorcan continued, still laughing. “But, people in their twenties don’t often land jobs at renowned universities. You’re the exception.”

Rowan continued to drink.

“Alright, alright,” Lorcan continued, taking a deep breath. “You’re five years older than her, so what? I’m four years older than Elide. Once you both hit twenty, age is just a number.”

Rowan shot him a look. “She’s a student, Lor. Maeve will fire me in a heartbeat over any sort of misconduct. This…” He just shook his head. “This position is a once in a lifetime opportunity that I probably shouldn’t even have. I can’t ruin it.”

Lorcan knew full well how harsh Rowan’s aunt could be. Before she’d become president of a prestigious university, she’d been the dean at the boarding school he and Rowan had spent their adolescence at. “So either move on or be careful and don’t let her find out.”

Rowan blinked at his friend. He was being so casual about this, when Rowan was freaking out both inside and out, which had required a two hour gym session earlier to calm his nerves.

Lorcan sighed and set his glass down. “Look, I really don’t see the issue here. She isn’t using you to pass the class, right?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Rowan, but he remembered the look of pure and utter shock on her face when they’d seen each other in the classroom. “No, it’s a basic gen ed. Plus I really don’t think she’d ever do that.”

Lorcan nodded. “Right. There are much tougher classes she could try and sleep her way through.” At Rowan’s simmering look at his choice of words, Lorcan held up his hands in placation. “I’m just saying, make sure she’s actually doing her homework and studying for her and don’t let Maeve find out.”

Rowan hesitated, but when his lips opened, nothing came out.

He liked Aelin. He really, really liked Aelin. And, yeah, it had been much more than a hookup. When he’d woken up that morning next to her in bed, he felt a sense of peace and satisfaction that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Then again, the way he’d snapped at her that morning, knowing that she had only said what she had out of anger - even if she had been correct - would be difficult to come back from.

Rowan had completely shattered her. He saw it in her eyes before she left.

“I don’t know,” Rowan said, at last.

Lorcan groaned before pounding back his drink and pouring himself another. “You’re always going to be the one to stand in the way of your own happiness, Whitethorn.”

He refrained from saying anything. Lorcan had always been the one to hop from girl to girl, while he had always been the one in a committed relationship. After his last relationship had…ended, he hadn’t wanted anyone for a while.

Aelin was the first spark he’d felt since.

“You’re into her,” Lorcan said, staring up at the ceiling to avoid any sort of eye contact while he said something nice. “I can tell. And, if you don’t go for it, you’re going to regret it.”

Rowan knew he was right.

Of course, he was right.

And yet, this job was the first job he had been granted in his field since graduating three years prior with his degree in mythology. Yeah, he may have gotten it because of Maeve, but that didn’t make it any less important to him.

He had the chance to get students excited about something he loved, something he was passionate about.

“Go home to your woman or shut up and turn on the TV,” Rowan muttered, downing the contents in his glass.

Lorcan only snorted and grabbed the remote, fulfilling Rowan’s wishes.

*

Aelin awoke the next morning with a slight headache and the same dull ache in her chest.

Knowing she needed to move, workout the bad vibes, she tossed up her hair and put on her workout wear before jogging to the gym.

She was still regretting signing up for even one eight am classes, and was thankful her Friday’s were free. She was looking forward to some much needed sleep, which was a lost cause right now.

When she was packing her gym bag, she decided to go straight to class after a quick shower, so she tossed it into a locker after she arrived, locked it up, and put her ear buds in.

The gym was still pretty empty this early, since it wasn’t even eight yet, and most people were too focused on their own workouts to pay attention to those surrounding them. Aelin was grateful for the distraction the gym would provide, and for the physical outlet, as well.

She was just finishing up a mile run on the treadmills when she felt eyes on her. She could tell she was being watched, but didn’t want to look around. Whether it was someone ogling her from across the room or someone from one of her classes, she wasn’t in the mood to make small talk and made her way over to the machines, starting on her legs first. She cranked her music up and kept an eye on the time on her watch.

When there was about forty-five minutes before her first class, she put the free weights she’d been using back in their home and turned to head to the locker room for a much needed shower.

And found who had been watching her during her workout.

Green eyes bored into her own and Aelin felt a blush rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the amount of energy she’d exerted this early in the morning.

Ignoring the voice inside of her head, Aelin stopped in front of Rowan, and nodded. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. His t-shirt clung to him, and it was a fact that Aelin could not ignore.

“I was just going to get ready for class,” she said. “Excuse me.”

She swept past him, but his voice pulled her up short. “Aelin.”

She stilled, and slowly turned around to meet his gaze.

“About yesterday,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. Aelin found the gesture somewhat charming, although she wouldn’t admit it. “I’m sorry. I…didn’t handle the situation right. It all took me by surprise and I reacted poorly. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” she said, looking away from him, down at her feet. “I said some things I didn’t mean. I’m…not proud of it.”

He shook his head. “Let’s just…pretend all of it didn’t happen, yeah?”

She swallowed roughly. “All of it?”

Rowan sighed. “Just because we apologized doesn’t change anything, Aelin. You’re still my student.”

She nodded, not looking at him. “Right. No. I get it. I have to get ready for class.”

Making to slip around him, she got two steps away before his hand wrapped around her wrist. “Aelin, I’m… I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t— I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Daring to take a chance by looking back at him, it nearly destroyed what was left of her when she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “But wishing doesn’t change anything, does it?” Aelin pulled her wrist free. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Rowan said nothing, but she saw that her shot landed in his eyes.

She shook it off, though, hurrying away, toward the showers.

Aelin knew one thing was for certain: no matter how much she cared for Rowan Whitethorn, there would never be anything between them.

Even if she wanted there to be.

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.    

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

~

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do.                                                                                           Sincerely,                                                                      Steve Rogers

                                                                                            ~

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

 When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.  

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

[starkeristheendgame]

Inspired by 9-1-1 (on Fox), which is my current obsession. I highly recommend checking it out and it’s spin-off series 9-1-1: Lonestar. If you already like 9-1-1 and Buddie (Buck and Eddie) then you should check out my new main account @therogueheart. Liberty has been taken with protocols and practices here, but the land of fiction knows no rules.

Firefighter!Tony x Civilian!Peter.

TW: Age difference | Under-negotiated sexual content | Unrealistic practises

“NYFD! We’re evacuating the block!”

“NYFD, are any residents present?”

Peter jerked awake to loud yelling and incessant pounding on his door, flailing blearily in bed for a moment before he fell off the side of in a heap of limbs and bedding, scrambling to get upright.

He shrugged on a hoodie and tripped into a pair of combat boots, stumbling his way sleepily to the door. He was operating on barely five hours of sleep and felt every hour he was sorely missing - though his midterms were a good enough reason to burn the midnight oil.

He wrenched the door open just as a firefighter on the other side went to swing the breach ram into it, letting out a squeak of panic as it stopped mere inches from his belly. The man wielding it was huge; with short blond hair and shoulders that could fit a person comfortably on either side. 

“That was close, I could’ve ruptured your entire torsal cavity and killed you!” the firefighter boomed cheerfully, straightening up with a broad, dazzling smile. Peter let out a faint noise and did his best not to pass out, sagging against the doorframe and gripping it. 

He was wide fucking awake now, that was for sure.

“My name is Thor, I’m with the NYPD, Manhattan division. We’re evacuating the block, there’s been a gas leak on the lower and mid levels and there’s risk of combustion,” the man ordered, slinging the ram over his shoulder and gesturing to the hallway. Peter could hear other voices, all similar conversations amidst the yells of NYPD, open up!

“Uh,” was all Peter got out before he was being ushered out of his doorway. Firefighter Thor nudged him several steps forwards before Peter’s brain finally came online and he jerked to a stop.

“Wait! I need my Adderall and my phone! If I don’t call Aunt May she’s gonna kill me and if I don’t take my meds I’m gonna be screwed!”

Thor looked undecided, brows pinching. “You shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay, Thor. Move onto the North quadrant; I’ll stay with this one,” came a voice from behind them and Peter turned, shrinking in on himself a little. 

Illuminated in the crappy hallway lighting was a man who looked like he’d stepped straight off a movie billboard. He wasn’t as tall or the same brand of clean-cut Hollywood handsome that Thor was, but he was just as attractive. More so, if Peter was going to acknowledge his tendency to lust after men twice or even thrice his age. 

The man had black hair swept into a neat side-leaning quiff, a hint of salt and pepper at his temples. His facial hair had been styled in a way that ought to look ridiculous but only served to give him a unique, sharp look, accentuating the shape of his jaw. 

The man winked at him and Peter realised he’d been staring. When he glanced to the side Thor had already moved off out of sight and the firefighter left behind gestured to Peter’s door, which was thankfully still open ajar from where he’d been rushed out.

“Uh, thanks. Thank you...Sir? Officer?” he cringed at his own awkwardness, shuffling past. The man looked amused, quirking a brow and pursing his lips a little, even as something indescribable flashed in his eyes. 

“Sir works just fine, if that’s your thing. But for the record - I’m Captain Stark. Pretty boys get to call me Tony, though,” the man winked again, teasing seeping into his voice as Peter flushed and beelined for his bed, grabbing his phone from it’s charger and scooping up his bill box and keys. 

He lamented not being able to grab anything else, but he knew better than to put himself (and someone else) at risk by lingering. Tony ushered him out of the door with a hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the stairwell. Peter could hear noises and voices on the lower levels but realised with surprise that they were the only two left on the topmost floor.

“You were dead to the world, kid. Thor was banging on your door like crazy. We almost gave you up for not in,” Tony voiced, seemingly understanding his realisation. Peter flushed again and mumbled something about studying, hurrying down the stairs as quickly as he could, Tony a close and solid presence at his back.

It wasn’t until the cool, outside air hit his legs that he realised he was still only wearing a thin hoodie and the shorts he’d gone to sleep in. He shivered in dismay, wrapping his arms around himself. He wasn’t the only one who’d clearly been dragged out of bed - there were people milling around in robes and pyjama sets. 

One poor man was even shivering in a ratty blanket, suds dripping from his hair and into his eyes. 

“What happened?” he asked, doing his best to stop his teeth from chattering. 

“Residents on the lower levels reported strong smells of sulphur and gas. We think it’s a line rupture or faulty heater somewhere. Full evac is protocol until we know for sure and can get started on a fix,” the fire Captain answered, steering him a little away from the main crowd and to one of the trucks. 

“Take a seat, kid,” Tony offered, gesturing to the step-up of the truck. Peter did, flinching as his bare skin met the icy metal. The man left him there, turning away to resume his role as he barked orders and disappeared off into the fray. Peter busied himself with his phone, only looking up when Tony’s voice boomed out over the crowd sometime later. 

“Alright, everybody listen up!” the man yelled, clapping his hands. “We’ve located the source of the gas and the good news is that it’s a relatively easy fix. The bad news is that it’ll take a minimum of four hours. In the name of safety, none of you can return to the building until it’s deemed safe to do so. Your landlord and building technicians will get in contact as soon as they’ve been given the okay for you to return home. In the meantime, I suggest you go visit friends, family, or find a nice coffee shop while you wait!”

An immediate chorus of groans, complaints and angry remarks bubbled up, the firefighters all doing their best to marshal the situation and contain the displeasure. Peter shuffled where he sat, chewing his lower lip in frustration. 

Aunt May was half a city away and on shift; Ned was visiting his Grandma and MJ’s girlfriend had stayed the night, meaning if Peter valued his eyes he couldn’t show up at her door. 

Which meant he was probably going to spend the next four hours shivering at a Starbucks and studying on his phone. 

Great. 

“You good, kid?” the voice was joined by a pair of turnout clad legs and Peter looked up, tossing his phone between his hands. Out in the natural light Captain Stark was even more handsome, a strange mix between rugged and polished. 

“Um, yeah. Just...Trying to decide which coffee shop I’m gonna move into,” he sighed, offering a weak smile. The Captain looked thoughtful. 

“Little thing like you, Mom and Dad weren’t just out getting milk?” his tone was teasing but curious. Peter shook his head. 

“Uh, no. I don’t...I did live with my Aunt. But I graduated highschool early and got a scholarship for the Manhattan Institute of Advanced Sciences. That shitty little studio is all mine,” he rattled the keys in his pocket and shifted. His butt had warmed the step some, but it still wasn’t exactly comfortable. 

As if sensing his discomfort the man shifted, peeling himself out of the huge, heavy turnout jacket. “Here, sit up a little,” the man coaxed, crouching down. Peter found himself enveloped in the jacket as Captain Stark wrapped it around him and tucked it under his ass and thighs, pulling it shut so it cocooned him in the heat. 

It smelt of soap and aftershave and maybe a little bit of sweat, and Peter found himself relaxing immediately, giving a hum of pleased satisfaction. 

Tony was smiling at him when he opened his eyes again and he flushed, saved from embarrassment by a tall, lithe man approaching. 

“Cap, we got ‘em all squared. Company is on the way for the fix. The one-five-nine offered to stay and play babysitter. We’re clear to move out.” The man had a purple band-aid on his right brow and did a double-take when he looked down at Peter. “We get a new recruit, Cap?”

Captain Stark looked thoughtfully between Peter and the man, fingers curling around his waistband.

“Alright. Barton, round up the others, call to move out. Have the one-five-nine use radio line six if they need us. We’re bringing back a station puppy.”

‘Barton’ glanced at Peter again, eyes raking over him before he did something between a smile and a smirk. “Copy that,” he confirmed, spinning on his heel and jogging off. 

“Huh?” was all Peter could think to say. 

“You’ve got nowhere better to go and you’ll freeze without getting changed. I’ve got some spare clothes at the station and you can hole up on the couch until we get the go-ahead to send you home. Rogers can cook, so let’s see if we can’t put a good breakfast in that belly,” Tony responded, nudging him up and out of the way so he could open the truck door. 

And that was how Peter found himself wedged into the truck with Clint Barton, Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers. They crammed a spare headset on him and grilled him on student life as they drove, Captain Stark chiming in from the front of the truck. 

The station they pulled into was huge, newly renovated and vast. Firefighter Thor set two hands on his hips, lifting him out of the truck easily and setting him down on the floor, ruffling his hair before dogpiling onto Steve, both of them stumbling and grappling away, arguing in snippets about door breaches. 

A little dazed, he startled when a hand fell to his back again and turned, flushing when Captain Stark smirked at him and nudged him towards the locker room. The others were already there, stripping out of their turnouts and talking animatedly. 

Peter was divested of the jacket but was given a thicker, warmer hoodie emblazoned with ‘NYPD’ and ‘Stark’, the older man rooting around in a locker for a moment before producing a pair of sweats. 

They were baggy but he double-tied them and rolled up the ankles and found them more than comfortable, shyly thanking the man. Tony was watching him, eyes dark again with that hidden thought, before he seemingly shook himself out of it and herded Peter towards a set of steps. 

Upstairs was a kitchen space and a small common area with two couches and a TV. Barton immediately handed him a steaming mug of herbal tea and Captain Stark ushered him to the table and after several minutes of sitting in their midst and listening to firefighting stories, Steve placed a plate of toast, beans, bacon and eggs under his nose. 

“Eat it before Barton mauls you for it,” Steve advised with a grin, sinking into the seat opposite him and stretching out, one arm slung around the back of Thor’s chair. Peter took the warning and dug in, shamelessly moaning at the taste. The eggs had been seasoned and there was something in the butter on the toast that made it rich and almost a little salty. 

“Better than sex, huh kid?” Tony teased from his side and Clint gasped, throwing his hands over Peter’s ears. 

“He doesn’t know what that is yet!”

After breakfast he was bundled onto the couch, handed a mug of tea to keep his hands warm and the remote to the TV as the others stomped down the staircase, citing organising their gear.

The alarm blared out as he was watching a nature documentary and he leaned over the balcony rail just in time to watch them leaping into the truck, flushing as the Captain shot him a wink before shutting the truck door, it’s sirens wailing and lights flashing as it pulled out of the bay.

They weren’t gone that long, but when the truck pulled back into the bay it was covered in dust and dirt. 

He padded down the staircase, pulling on the sleeves of his hoodie as he watched them all descend from the vehicle. They looked a little dusty and grimy, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Winch rescue up on the hiking trails,” Clint informed him as he jogged past, beelining for a room just past the lockers. “I’ve got dust in places it doesn't belong!”

The worst of them all was Steve, who’d apparently tripped over the winch line and gone tumbling down the hillside. He was largely unhurt, but he was also the last one out of the showers thanks to needing some extra scrubbing. 

“C’mon, kid. Time to earn your keep,” Tony teased once they were clean and dressed in LAFD shorts and shirts. They were filling buckets and bringing out plastic boxes full of soaps and polish, and he almost whimpered when he realised they were going to clean the truck. 

He was practically living a piece of fanfiction. 

Or torture. Either one was applicable. 

It took exactly ten minutes for someone to lose their shirt. Peter didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that it was Steve, who flexed his pecs with a wink when he caught Peter staring. As if not to be outdone, Thor immediately tugged his shirt over his head, baring an even bigger, beefier torso that fed the red flames burning up Peter’s cheeks. 

“Alright, show offs. Stop preening and get cleaning,” Tony barked at them good-naturedly, rolling his eyes as he handed Peter a sponge and flicked suds at the two taller blonds, who pulled faces but dove into the work with vigor. 

In an attempt to cool down his embarrassment he turned his attention to the truck, scrubbing gently in broad circles to match what the others were doing. He’d never realised just how big firetrucks were and he wondered idly how often they had to do this.

“Hey, shortstack, you wanna be on top?”

“Excuse me?” Peter squeaked, rounding on Captain Stark, who smirked at him and gestured to the roof of the truck and the little side ladder.

“On the roof. Tends to get gritty up there,” the man drawled, eyeing him in thinly veiled amusement. It had to be on purpose, Peter realised. Especially when he moved to the side ladder and a set of rough hands wrapped around his hips, boosting him up several rungs.

He settled down to scrub, listening to the soundtrack of the station and the men below, peering over the edge now and then to watch them or to join in the conversation. It was dizzying - having them all grinning up at him, sunny and sparkling and half-naked.

Mercifully, there wasn’t too much more teasing as they scrubbed and buffed and wiped. He wasn’t sure his cheeks could take getting any hotter - but then, where safer to combust but in the middle of a firehouse?

Captain Stark helped him down from the roof again with the same hold around his hips, thumbs rubbing brief circles along the ridges of the bones before the man stepped aside with a quirked smile.

“Hungry, kid?”

“If I don’t get fed soon I might start chewing off my own foot,” he harrumphed with a grin, ducking his head when Clint barked a laugh and ruffled his hair.

“Kid after my own stomach,” the man drawled, taking the steps three at a time in a way that Peter and his short legs watched enviously. 

Lunch was buffet bits like potato chips and little sponge-cake fingers and fruit, which Peter didn’t mind at all. He threw grapes into Clint’s mouth and arm-wrestled Steve and deliberately paid no attention at all to where Captain Stark’s leg pressed against his own under the table.

In the grand five hour total that he was there they got called out twice more, once for a tree rescue (a man who’d tried to save money by cutting his own yard tree, not a cat, much to Peter’s disappointment) and a small kitchen fire that left them bitching for a full hour afterwards about how people needed to stop trying to be Gordon Ramsey when they could barely cook packet ramen.

And then, just when the others were beginning to get shift about nearing their time to come off rotation, Peter’s phone rang. 

It was his landlord, sounding gruff and disinterested as he informed Peter the apartment had been deemed safe to re-enter, although all aparts were going to be required to keep their gas appliances off for the night and their windows open.

The others had stopped milling around in the locker room and listened in with thinly concealed interest, offering nods and smiles when it was revealed Peter was safe to hit home.

“Just on time, huh?” Steve beamed at him, ruffling his hair. 

“Aw, man. Do we have to give him back?” Clint whined in protest, swooping down to wrap himself around Peter like a clingy mink shrug. Peter giggled, tucking himself into the hold and putting on a pretend pout.

Truthfully; he didn’t want to leave. At first he’d been apprehensive about being stuck in a building with a bunch of strange men, but over the course of the day he’d come to cherish their family dynamic and the easy, comfortable companionship.

“You knew he was on loan, you layabouts,” Tony chastised them fondly, rolling his eyes. When his crew had been bullied into resuming their prep to leave, Captain Stark sank onto the bench next to Peter.

“You want a ride back, kid? I live past that area anyway and it’s my fault you’re so far out from home,” he noted with a warm smile, tugging on a boot and stooping to lace it.

Peter bit at his lower lip. Technically; he should say no. He didn’t actually know this man, and being a firefighter meant nothing for how trustworthy he was.

But…

“You don’t mind?” he asked lightly.

“It would be Captain’s honor,” Thor assured him with a wink. And that was that, the others finished dressed and they moved out to the parking lot as a herd, Peter trailing awkwardly along behind Tony towards a sleek, red and gold Audi.

He was hugged and ruffled and treated to a sizable farewell from the others, each of them pointedly telling him not to be a stranger as they piled into their vehicles and drove off in a cloud of muted music and squealing tyres.

When he turned around Tony had slipped over to the car and stood with the passenger door open, stooped into a half bow.

The interior was crisp and clean and smelt like fresh linen when he sank into the seat, tucking his legs in carefully. Tony slid into the driver’s side like he lived to be behind the wheel of a flashy car, slipping on a dark pair of shades and letting his window slide down.

Tony switched radio on to a smooth rock station and Peter let himself relax in the seat, phone still clutched carefully in hand just in case, but thoroughly enjoying the rumble of the car and the way Tony looked behind the wheel.

They didn’t speak much on the way but Peter snuck several glances at the other man, shivering through a bolt of unsteady heat each time Tony caught the motion and tipped his head, smirking at him from behind those shaded lenses.

The apartment building loomed up on them far too soon, signalling the end of a day Peter was confident he’d keep in his memories right up until his last breath.

(And if it tempted him to maybe one day set fire to his kitchen a little bit, well.)

Tony pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot, leaning casually back in his seat. 

“Maybe you should, um, check my apartment?”

It took Peter a moment to realise he was the one who’d spoken, mortified as Tony pushed down his shades to peer at him over the rims with an arched brow.

“To, uh, um…” Peter squirmed on his seat, doing his best not to think about how it was the other man’s clothes he was wearing. “Make sure it’s safe. I mean, I’ve built up a little trust. With you. Who knows if the other guys missed something?”

And what he wouldn’t give for a sinkhole to just swallow him up right then.

But to his surprise Captain Stark just peered at him for another moment, then smiled. “Sure thing, kid. The other’s’d never forgive me anyway if I let you die off in the night.”

With cheeks hot enough to sear a steak, Peter slipped out of the car and practically ran for the building, hyper aware of Tony’s presence beside him as they ascended the steps. God, he was so fucking stupid. Tony was probably going to poke around the apartment a little, open the window then skip on back home and tell his wife all about the strange kid he’d had to babysit all day.

His hands were shaking as he unlocked his door but if the man noticed he said nothing, stepping in behind him and pushing the door gently shut. Peter toed off his boots by the door and turned, watching the man roam the apartment, sniffing here and there and opening the window in the kitchenette.

“Hey, come here,” Tony’s voice called when he was plugging his phone in. Jamming the cord into the device, he bounced out of the room and slid to a halt next to Tony, who held a hand out to steady him. “Do you feel that?”

“What?” Peter asked in confusion, head tilting. 

“Sexual tension,” Tony grinned at him, winking terribly. 

“Wha-- Oh,” Peter rocked back on his heels, cheeks blazing. 

“You’re not subtle, kid. I got ribbed the whole day out over it,” Tony teased him, reaching out to ever so gently tuck one of Peter’s mahogany curls behind his ear.

“Sorry?” Peter tried, fingers curling around the cuffs of his - Tony’s - hoodie.

“I know a way you can make it up to me,” the only man purred, leaning in a little closer. And then all at once he softened, head tilting a little. “Only, of course, if you want to.”

“Aren’t you… Married?” Peter asked hesitantly, even as his heart kicked up a notch and heat gave a lazy spark between his lips. Tony’s brows shot towards his hairline.

“Not since I last checked, no,” Tony answered, sounding terribly amused. “Where did you get that thought?”

And oh, no. The last thing Peter was going to do was tell Tony he thought the man was so attractive it was feasibly impossible for him to not be taken. His ego would get so big he’d float off to space and then where would Peter be?

Instead of answering he shifted, bracing his hands on Tony’s chest and rising onto his tiptoes so he could press a chaste kiss to Tony’s mouth, the man’s stubble tickling the corner of his mouth before he pulled away, shrinking in on himself and rubbing at his lower lip.

Tony blinked down at him for a moment. Then he shifted, leaning down to wrap his hands around Peter’s thigh and hip, lifting him up with a flex of work-honed muscles. Peter clutched at his shoulders, legs automatically wrapping around Tony’s waist.

It was a new kind of novelty; to feel thick, corded muscle beneath his palms, to feel the cut of it between his thighs, to feel the scrape of stubble over his jaw and his mouth. All of Peter’s other partners had been close to his own age and relatively close in terms of build and body.

A few strides had Peter’s back pressed against the wall where he let his head fall back with a thump, mouth falling open on a whine.

“Look at you having your five minutes of bravery,” Tony teased him, shifting one leg so his thigh helped to hold Peter’s weight, fingers flexing against his skin. “What happened to the quiet little kid who burnt up anytime he looked my way?”

Peter had nothing to say, shivering through a hiccupped sound when something thick and hard rode the crease of his thigh and hip, hot between the layers of fabric that separated them. Instead of answering he pawed at the man’s shirt, desperately wanting to see the carved flesh beneath it.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want,” Tony soothed him, adjusting them both before he helped to tug on the fabric, muscles shifting and bunching as he worked it over his head and threw it off somewhere to the side.

“Oh,” Peter choked, setting his palms down on the plane of Tony’s stomach. He was beautiful; tanned skin marred with a smattering of scars that stood out pink and pale. He knew better than to focus on them but he couldn’t help running his thumb over a half-moon scar at the bottom of Tony’s pectoral.

“Emergency field incision,” Tony murmured, nipple peaking at the close touch. “Had to mesh-wall my heart.”

Peter had no words for that, either. In all the fun of the firehouse he’d almost forgotten the reality of such a dangerous job. He ran his thumb gently over it again, as if to kiss it, and tightened his legs to bring Tony into him again.

It made them press together in a delicious, warm friction, Tony’s pupils dilating further when Peter tried to stifle the noise the touch prompted. He was squeezed back into the wall as Tony leaned down, catching his mouth in a slick, gentle kiss. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony murmured against his mouth, leaning back just enough to speak, teeth scraping over his swollen lower lip.

“Hm?” Peter whimpered, trying to tilt his head to reach him again.

“You wanna see why they call me Captain Firehose?”

Peter’s lashes fluttered as he looked up, mouth dropping open for a moment of pure, unadulterated suspense.

“That was awful,” he groaned with a giggle, tickled by the cheesy line and rendered pink-cheeked by the soft, fond look at Tony fixed him with.

“Made you smile, though,” Tony purred, adjusting his hold as he ducked down to press a kiss to Peter’s cheek, lips trailing over the warm skin before he pulled back and away, muscles flexing as he held Peter up without the support of the wall.

Blushing harder, Peter wound his arms around the man’s neck. “Okay, Captain. Show me how to handle your hose,” he whispered, yelping and laughing when Tony spun them around towards the bedroom with a grin.

[littlefreya]

The Kitten & the Bear - Part 1

Intro: This story is a collab and was written by both @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ and I. It was born out of a fun role play we have going on. We ended up having so much a fun with this particular idea that we thought we should post it as a 3 part story and share it with the rest!

| Read Part 2  | Read Part 3 |

Summary: After a night of drinking in town get Walter’s bratty wife ends up with pure chaos and the overprotective grumpy husband is having none of her shenanigans. 

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC (first person pov) 

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Bratty behaviour, vandalism, dominant overprotectiveness, BDE, husband stalking his wife, sexual innuendo, dirty inappropriate talks, mentions of sex and oral, weed and alcohol usage. Sex in the next parts :D Walter is a Boomer. 

A/N: We didn’t beta it and did transform it from 2nd to 1st person POV, really hoping you guys will enjoy it as we did. Feel free to share your thoughts. 

Title: The Kitten & the Bear

Nothing chilled my heart more than waking up in an empty bed. Walter was already gone, leaving his side of the mattress cold and abandoned. A heavy sigh broke from my lips, I stroked the ghost of the kiss that still tingled on my cheek, knowing he planted it there before heading to work. 

Sadness seeped into my heart as I realised I won't see him today. Our work scheduled conflicted and I have scheduled a "date night" with my girls in the evening. Picking up my phone, I texted him a pouty emoji and then headed to get my day started.

Walter left me on read, which just fuelled the brat in me. When he called during his lunch break, he was taciturn as usual, and most of the call was about his disapproval of us girls going out without at least one male friend or a boyfriend to chaperone.

"Oh my god, Walter, this is not the 50s! Women can leave their house without a husband tagging along!" I grunted and berated him, "stop acting like someone is going to kidnap me!!! I'm an adult woman!" I snapped at him while sitting at the cafe. People sitting around stared quietly as I hung up the phone, and stormed out.

~~~

Walter looked at his mobile phone, shocked. He couldn't even remember the last time someone hung up on him, let along his wife.

"Fucking brat," he muttered as he pocketed it. 

After lunch, he went into the precinct. Since it was flu season and they were having a shortage of uniformed officers, he volunteered to patrol tonight. Assuming he might even be able to check up on me wherever I get to town. Just to keep me safe. That's right. Not from jealousy. Not because I'll be all dolled up and tipsy and every man in the vicinity will ogle me.

~~~

As the evening loomed, I was in dire need of letting loose. Walter had left me incredibly frustrated, acting like a police officer from hell rather than my husband. Going through my closet, I stumbled upon the most outrageous piece of wardrobe: a black strappy thing with corset details at the front. The same one I've worn for our first date which of course ended up with Walter and I dry humping like two horny teenagers at the back of his truck and him eating me out until I came all over his beard 4 times. 

I slapped a dark red lipstick and put on a pair of red "fuck me" pumps before leaving to meet the gals in a new night club that had just opened. I might or might not have a rolled-up joint in my purse.

~~~

Walter was sitting in a patrol vehicle on the opposite side of the street from the new fancy club with translucent walls. We were all sitting beside the window at a small table full of cocktail glasses, but the girls were gesturing toward the dance floor. Walter chose a dark spot on the street to park the car and was wearing a beanie. 

But he didn't need it. He knew I was oblivious to him and also to the men staring at me from 3 different tables. He ground his teeth frustrated when he first noticed that I was wearing that dress. His blood boiled as I was slowly sipping a cocktail with a sexy little pout around the long straw.

"Let's dance!!! I wanna dance!!!" I whined at my friend Keylah, grabbing her wrist and dragging her with me. My posture was slightly unstable after two cocktails and probably not enough food to pad my belly. She followed me to the dance floor while Stephanie remained in her seat, talking to some guy just for the sake of trolling. He'd been hitting on each one of us unsuccessfully. 

After an hour of dancing with Keylah, swaying my ass in ways that didn't leave any imagination to the men lurking, I remembered the little treat I had in my purse and decided we should take a small break to breathe some fresh air. 

I grabbed the girls, and we walked outside.

"Okay, don't you dare mention this to Walter," I warned them as I took the joint out from my purse.

"Daddy Magnum gonna punish you?" Steph teased while I lit the weed. 

"Oh, you have no idea, he gave me shit about seeing you tonight without a male chaperone, like this is Mad Man or something." 

"Woah! Walter is a boomer!!!" Keylah teased, and we all laughed hysterically. 

~~~

Unbeknownst to me, Walter was watching us dance from his patrol car, getting more and more frustrated by the hour. He observed as I gathered both girls and came out on the street, walking a couple of meters away from the entrance. A frown fell on his face as he saw me taking a lighter out from my purse.

"She doesn't even smoke, what the hell?" he fumed. 

His eyes widened when he saw the telltale shape of a joint between my fingers. His mouth was agape as I lit it up and started smoking and passing it around. "What the fuck? Where did she get that?" he muttered incredulously.

'It's fucking illegal in Minnesota, what the fuck? A cop's wife at that!' He thought, rage simmering in his gut.  

The police radio suddenly began buzzing, the sergeant calling on the line. 

"Hey Marshall, Toby came in for the night shift after all. Do you want him to keep you company?" 

'And see Walter's wife going to town on a spliff? No fucking way.' 

"No, Sarge, thanks. It's uh... calm tonight." He frowned from afar. "Nothing but law-abiding citizens," he replied, hoping his sarcasm didn't go through while he was watching the wife of a respected detective drunk and smoking weed in the great outdoors.

"All right" the sarge concluded and cut the line, and Walter put back the radio.

‘Un-fucking-believable.'

~~~

The girls and I fell into a fit of wild giggles, thoroughly buzzed and high at the same time. My skirt rode up my thighs, and I didn't even bother fixing it as the combination of drugs and alcohol made me frivolous and careless. 

"Is Walter such a nerd in bed too? Is he one of those guys who won't even make a sound because they are ashamed of it?" Stephanie asked to which I immediately snorted.

"Walter fucks like a beast from hell," I answered and put off the remains of the joint against the heel of my shoe. 

"I had to go to the gyno at least four times in the past because he was too violent, and trust me, the noise he makes, luckily no one called the police yet…" 

"Jennifer, your husband is the police!" Keylah answered, and we burst into another fit of giggles which then gradually died down. 

The same man who bugged us from before followed us outside, giving us some stares and making a suckling voice with his lips. I snorted at him and told him to fuck off before putting my arms around my girls. 

"This place sucks, let's go grab something to eat from the store, if Walter sees me like this I will NEVER hear the end of it".

~~~

Walter was watching us walk away, still furious about my illicit behaviour. He promised himself that he'd have a serious conversation with me about this tomorrow. He gave us two blocks of a head start and then ignited the engine of the car and made a U-turn, slowly he rolled towards the store and saw us enter. He made another U-turn in front of the store to park across the street. He just hoped that we'll buy some nachos and a coke and then call it a night, and call a cab to go home.

~~~

It was close to 1am. We barged into the store, marching through as if we owned the place. Keylah stopped by the condoms section and threw a bottle of lube in my direction. "Here you go, Jennifer, you gonna need it".

I laughed and threw it back at her, grabbing a bag of chips and a bottle of water. 

"Better fuck his brains before he starts asking where you've been tonight," Stephanie added. 

"Can you girls please behave?" The clerk-lady requested politely, giving us a prudent look. I rolled my eyes at her and then stopped short as I saw a large stuffed grizzly bear that reminded me of Walter. I grabbed it and hugged it tightly just as I got the sudden urge to misbehave.

"Girls…" I whispered, making them come closer, "bet you a 20 I can sneak this out without paying!"

~~~

Walter's shoulders slumped, and he let out an irritated groan when he saw one of the girls throwing things inside the store. Though, he sighed in relief when I paused this stupid game, and a small smile tugged the edge of his mouth when I hugged a huge stuffed bear that reached down to my thighs and was high above the top of my head as I squeezed it to my torso. 

The way I looked at the bear reminded him of the loving looks I always gave him. But a sense of foreboding assaulted him as we started whispering and pointed at the door.

~~~

"Okay, okay… shush!" I whispered way too obvious and held the stuffed animal behind my back.

"Hey Keylah, can you pay for my chips?" I asked and backed away toward the door, nearly stumbling on my heels and holding the laughter in my gut. 

Noticing my attempt, the old woman cleared her throat, giving me a glare, "You are going to have to pay for that or I will call the police…"

"Her husb…"

"Shut up, Stephanie!" Keylah shouted and threw a bottle of lube in her direction, accidently hitting my shoulder, which made me drop the bear on the floor. 

"Key, you fucking bitch!!!" I answered and picked up the bottle, throwing it back at her. 

"Hey stop that!!!!" The clerk demanded and walked back behind the counter, picking up her phone. 

We ignored her, laughing like schoolgirls and throwing the bottle back and forth between us. Boxes of tampons and condoms fell to the floor as we moved through the hygiene section shouting playfully. 

As Keylah threw the bottle at me for the 12th time, I lifted it and threw it so hard it hit the window and broke it, causing the store's alarm to go off immediately.

"Oh… fu……..ck" I uttered.

~~~

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," Walter panicked as he saw us vandalising the store. He was immediately ready to jump out of the car, but then it would be obvious he'd been keeping an eye on me. He had to wait for the call. 

He wasn't even hoping that the clerk would not involve the police in the matter. She has to. ‘Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.’ 

When he saw the lady picking up the phone, he buried his face in his palms and rubbed it tiredly.

"Stupid, fucking bitches" he sighed, not believing his wife being so reckless. 

He picked up the buzzing radio and said, "Marshall. I'm here. On it." 

Without delay, he took the beanie off and got out of the car with his badge and gun ready.

~~~

Fingers dug into my hair, I stared wide-eyed at the broken window, immediately regretting all my decisions in the last couple of hours. 

'Walter was going to fucking kill me'. 

"I am soooooooo……." I began to say, turning to the clerk slowly while Keylah and Steph held their hands over their mouths. "So sorry." I stretched out while the alarm continued ringing in my ears. 

Then just like out of a nightmare, stepping through shards of broken glass with his big black boots, I saw Walter walking in, his brows knit together, his badge and his gun held out but kept low. He was enormous and menacing, yet the sight of him comforted me.

"Oh thank god, it's you!" I call out relieved.

~~~

The glass cracked beneath his steps as he walked in. He looked around and checked the store for cameras. 'Fuck, there were CCTVs'. 

He hoped to snatch me away and take care of the situation without involving... well himself but now that there was evidence it wasn't possible anymore. I was looking at him like a frightened little girl, but he couldn't help me, and frankly, he didn't feel like it either.

He looked at the clerk, showed her his badge and said in a neutral tone "MPD. What seems to be the problem?" 

~~~

My breath hitched at his "cop voice" and the way he asked the clerk. 

Stepping back and standing in the middle of the group, the three of us gaped at him with utter dumbfoundedness. Both my heart and gut dropped to the messy floor out of fear, and the way he carried himself, looking so menacing and authoritative made my panties drenched with arousal. 

"Officer, thank god you arrived! These three tried to steal a stuffed animal and started wreaking havoc in the store, throwing stuff around like children and speaking offensively!" The old woman explained and stood in the middle of the mess, looking helpless. 

My eyes rounded with false innocence, and I nibbled my bottom lip, giving Walter a vulnerable look. 

Walter was patiently listening to the clerk. Not a muscle flinched on his face as if he'd known everything. He took his notebook and a report form out and took care of the paperwork. 

The old lady eyed the three of us nervously while Walter was scribbling, and she hesitantly asked, "I'm sorry, Officer, but shouldn't you handcuff them? They might run."

Walter's curly head lifted, and he flashed the lady a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, ma'am. They won't run."

"Is he serious?" Steph whispered, and I elbowed her, giving Walter a rather pissed off smile as he pretended not to know us at all and treated me like any other criminal.

Was it that just for show? Probably. We were going to have a serious talk about boundaries once we'd get home.

Walter finished writing his report and made the lady sign it before turning to look at the three of us, clenching his jaw. 

After a long, stern silence, I finally spoke, "Can I still get the teddy bear?"

Walter's nostrils flared as he dug into his pocket, pulled out a 20-dollar bill, slammed it on the counter and said to the clerk "For the bear."

At first, the lady was dumbfounded, then she blurted out outraged "Why are you buying a gift for a criminal?"

Walter didn't even spare her a look. He picked up the bear and looked at me with unflinching, stern eyes that made all three of us take a step backwards.

"Because she's my fucking wife."

The tone of his voice made the three of us startle, and I released a small gasp, seeing the look on his face. Walter made a gesture with his hand singling us to walk out of the store in order, and we did as he commanded. At the same time, my eyes gave him a mischievous smirk, mistaking this behaviour for a show.

Walter left the store last and immediately commanded, "To the car".

When we got there on the opposite side of the street, he opened the car and shoved the teddy bear on the passenger seat, then turned back, crossed his hands on his chest, and looked at all three of us. 

"Here's how it's gonna happen. We go in the precinct, fill out the forms, you stay the night, and most likely will be charged with a misdemeanour. Although the weed might be more problematic." He glared at me pointedly. 

The girls and I collectively gasped. 

"Now get in the back seat, all of you."

With shuddering legs, Keylah and Steph obediently entered the patrol car. I stared at Walter as he stood there towering over me, his massive arms crossed around his broad chest.

Still intoxicated, I looked at him with disbelief, realising two things: he arrived at the scene in less than two minutes after the lady called the police, which is impossible. And two, he couldn't possibly know I had weed on me unless… 

"Were you stalking me?!" I called out, ignoring the police officer and speaking to my husband. My hands went to my hips, my face sulking. 

"Oh my god, Walter! You were! Weren't you?" I frowned and shook my head, grunting with disgust.

"You are in no position to reproach me for anything right now", Walter said, seemingly calm. "But if you wanna know, I was patrolling in the neighbourhood and decided to check up on you. I saw the way you were shaking your ass for strangers" he spat, but he let his eyes roam the tight dress, and the way he subtly licked his lips made me sure he remembered exactly which dress it was.

"Do as you're fucking told and get in the car or you're gonna find yourself in even bigger trouble." 

"Oh my god, Walter!!! Are you fucking kidding me?!" I yelled at him and stepped back, throwing my hands in the air furiously.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!! MY OWN HUSBAND STALKING ME?! What's next Walter? You gonna put an ankle bracelet thingy on me, so I don't get to leave the house without your fucking permission?!"

I got so angry, my hands pushed at his chest, to which he didn't even budge, and only his jaw tightened.

"I am NOT getting into that car, and you are going to let Keylah and Steph go before you are going to be in trouble!"

Keylah and Steph were both watching with utter fascination as they saw the growing tension in Walter's posture.

Once Keylah and Steph were inside the car, they felt like the immediate danger was over. Their drunkenness and high made them reckless again and they started cheering me in the verbal fight with my husband.

Walter was on the verge of bursting, it was evident from his face. He took a menacing step towards me and despite my anger, a pang of arousal shot in my core.

"Get. in the. fucking. car" he growled in a barely audible voice. He gave me one last chance to voluntarily obey him.

I moved closer toward him, my head tilting up to meet his menacing gaze, my breasts ghostly brushing against his hard torso.

"I am not going anywhere with you," I answered unflinchingly. "Keep this attitude up, and the whole town will get to enjoy me swaying this ass long before you do." I teasingly slapped my own ass and then smirked arrogantly as I heard the girls cheering at the backseat

"That's it."

Quick as lightning, Walter's hands uncrossed and shot out. He grabbed my arms, turned me around with dizzying speed and slammed my torso down on the hood of the police car.

"Jennifer Marshall, you are under arrest for destruction of property, public intoxication and obstruction of a law enforcement officer."

I gasped incredulously as I felt the metal handcuffs closing on my wrists while Walter was performing his duty automatically and methodically. I'd never seen him make an arrest, let alone manhandle me like this.

With my cheek pressed against the cold metal, I could see both Keylah and Steph gape at us, eyes and mouth wide with daze. 

Still intoxicated, I hissed as a shiver of fear and sexual arousal shot through my spine, creeping all the way down to my throbbing core. 

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I cried out in protest. "I am your wife!"

My attempt to stand up brought my ass to collide with his crotch, where I felt the unmistakable throb of his blood circulating down to his groin. 

"Are you also getting the feeling that they're gonna fuck?" Steph whispered to Keylah, loud enough for us to hear.

"Shush!" she answered and stared, licking her lips. 

"Let me go, you fucking pig!" I screamed and squirmed on the hood helplessly. 

"Anything you say will be held against you in the court of law" Walter continued in his deep cop voice as if I hadn't even spoken.

"Say his dick, girl!" Keylah shouted, and Steph wooed, but they quickly shut up and resorted to concealed giggling as Walter shot angry eyes at them. He stepped closer to secure his hold on the handcuffs, and I felt the warm coarse material of his jeans at the back of my thighs.

"If you don't want to add resisting arrest and possession of narcotics to your offences, shut the fuck up and stop squirming."

"Fuck” I hissed, which didn't go unnoticed by Walter. My ass naturally shifted against his hardening bulge, and I moaned gently, not loud enough for the girls to hear but definitely heard by Walter, who had his hand around my cuffed wrists.

"You're enjoying this, big guy?" I spit out sardonically, "controlling your wife like you always want to, hmm?"

With the alcohol flushing through my veins, mingled with the sheer exhilaration of anger, I became more daring than ever.

"I think you are just scared because we both know you are never going to tame me."

[allzelemonz]

Don’t Go: Crosshair X Gender Neutral Reader Part 1

In honor of the return of Star Wars! I’m a little late... but Crosshair is in need of love. I want nothing bad to happen to him and I will likely be sad in the coming weeks.

It all happened so suddenly. One minute you were working with the resident Jedi on Kamino, then a clone asked for you to follow him. Then you heard the blaster fire. When you tried to turn back the clone grabbed your arm and kept you there.

“It would be best if you stayed with me, Commander.”

You stared at the expressionless helmet in shock. From the tone of his voice to the words themselves, this clone was not acting right. Nevertheless, he had a blaster in his hands and you did not. He released his grip on your arm and you followed him away. Nothing seemed right.

He led you to the Prime Minister who was waiting in his usual weird egg chair. When the trooper was gone you gave the Kaminoan a curious look as he calmly poured a drink for you.

“I’m sorry if you witnessed any unpleasant things today, Commander.”

“Do you mind if I ask what’s going on, Prime Minister?”

You tried to keep you cool in the presence of the Kaminoan, knowing that manners and politeness was their favored character trait. You accepted the drink from him with a small thanks.

“All will be explained in due time, but I’m afraid I must inform you that your employment in training the clone troopers may be coming to an end.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have come under a sort of new management.” The Prime Minister took a small sip from his cup. “An announcement will be made later this evening, I just thought it would be best to let you know of the threat to your employment ahead of time.”

“Thank you for that, but I’m still a bit confused.”

“We will speak more tomorrow, after the announcements. Everything will make more sense then.”

You gave the Kaminoan a nod and promptly exited the room. You were met with hallways full of troopers going in every direction. You took a shaky breath at the sight of an occupied stretch being carried to the med bay, seemingly for analysis. You had a sinking feeling you knew exactly who was on it.

You made your way to your barracks, changing your mind halfway there, and instead turning down the hall leading to the barracks room of Clone Force 99. You waited there for an hour or so, trying to distract yourself with cleaning one of Crosshair’s old rifles.

The door slid open to reveal Tech and Wrecker first. Tech going immediately to his workstation.

“Ah! Good to be back.” Wrecker exclaimed as he put his helmet down.

“The smell’s getting worse.” Echo commented.

“You’re still new. You’ll get used to it.” Hunter assured.

“Speak for yourself.” Crosshair pushed passed his brothers, finally seeing you.

The other boys went about their usual coming home routine as Crosshair sat next to you and took his helmet off.

“How was the mission?” You asked, mostly to gauge if he’d be acting weird like all the clones you’d seen today.

“Mediocre.” He mumbled.

He leaned over to you and placed a quick kiss on your head. At least that hadn't changed. The rest of the Bad Batch seemed to be acting like themselves. There was something about Crosshair’s movements that seemed different. He hadn’t taken his helmet off until sitting with you. He didn’t say anything about you cleaning his rifle.

“Not every objective” Crosshair said.

You tuned into the conversation, having ignored it until now.

“Hunter let that Jedi kid escape.” He continued. “Or do you want to keep lying to us?”

You looked between Crosshair and Hunter. Let the Jedi escape? Were all of the Jedi being killed?

Hunter stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the waters below.

“I don’t like to think of executing our commanders as a mission objective.”

“An order is an order.” Crosshair argued.

He wasn’t wrong, but killing all of the Jedi was a questionable order at best. And the Padawans, children, there was no way to justify that order. When you were first brought on to aid the trooper training you couldn’t believe that pre-teens were holding a rank that you didn’t earn until you were twice that age. You couldn’t imagine killing them.

“Since when?” Hunter fired back.

Even from behind him, you could see Crosshair become annoyed. The end of his toothpick flicking around and his shoulders tensing up.

“None of this makes sense.” Echo chimed in. “Those clones served alongside General Billaba for years. How could they turn on her like that?” The former reg hit his fist against the table in frustration.

“Because of the reg’s programming.”

Everyone looked at Tech as if he was crazy.

“What programming?” Hunter asked.

You recalled being told that the clones were made to be more obedient than the average person, but you never thought of it as programming. Tech explained what he meant and Wrecker laughed.

“Ha! We sure don’t” The giant clone slung an arm around Crosshair, stuffed toy in hand.

You could see Crosshair’s annoyance at the action go beyond his default level of only moderate annoyance.

Tech explained why they didn’t adhere to the same standards as other clones, which you could have guessed. They’re different. Tech made it sound more complicated than that, but really the short answer was that they were simply built different.

Crosshair pushed Wrecker off him as Tech continued his explanation. Wrecker began to softly hit Crosshair with his stuffed toy in opposition. Crosshair got away from his large brother and replaced his toothpick in his mouth. You could still tell he was a bit off put by the current topic of conversation. The boys continued to discuss why they didn’t follow the order that had apparently been put out. You came to your own conclusion about the Jedi and troopers you’d been with earlier.

Crosshair leaned against the wall next to his bunk, you nudged him lightly and asked silently if he was feeling okay. He didn’t respond as he usually did.

An intercom message gave the order to report to the staging area, interrupting the conversation.

The Bad Batch walked to the staging area. You followed with them, Crosshair keeping pace with you in the back. It was his form of PDA like holding hands, just walking with you in step.

You split from the boys to take your position at the head of your group of clone cadets. All of them acting strange, not a single one out of place or trying to talk to one another. All of them stood at attention as if they were clankers. Even your subordinate sergeant didn’t give you any more comment than an acknowledgement of rank and a curt nod. He’d usually at least crack a smile or a wink if he was feeling confident.

You watched the announcement with a bad feeling about what was to come. You tried to catch sight of Crosshair or Hunter, anyone of the batch, but they were too far ahead and blocked by too many other clones. You couldn’t even see Wrecker towering above everyone else. The news that all Jedi were to be executed for treason explained a lot, but it didn’t change your mind about anything. The clones around you cheered at the announcement of a new Empire. The cadets behind you included. Men that just a few weeks ago had been talking about their disgust with the authoritarian Separatists. Maybe Tech had a point about the programming.

After the announcement you were caught up in the chaos that was clone cadets. Your fellow training commanders all worked to get the cadet back into their schedules and you couldn’t slip away no matter how much you wanted to. You escorted your troops back to their training area and got them back on track, leaving them to the bounty hunter trainers they were working with.

You made your way back to the batch’s barracks to find Crosshair looking over the old rifle you had been cleaning.

“Where is everyone?” You asked. It was a rare case the barracks were only occupied by one member of the batch.

“Out.” Crosshair stated plainly.

You took his meaning. Everyone was doing their own thing. You sat by the tall clone and watched him inspecting the weapon.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been accommodating recently.” Crosshair said, breaking the silence.

“Since when are you accommodating?”

The sniper chuckled and set the rifle to the side, turning to you. He took your hand in his and met your eyes.

“I try to be for you.”

He leaned in and kissed you. The usual crosshair kiss, short and to the point, but exactly what you needed.

“Have you been feeling okay?” You asked.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow at the question.

“You’ve been picking at Hunter a bit more than usual is all.”

“He made a bad call.”

You nodded, not wanting to provoke him. Maybe Crosshair wasn’t as immune as the others. He was acting off, but not nearly as badly as the regs.

“Do you want to go to the mess?” You rested you had on his cheek, tracing the point of his tattoo with your thumb slightly.

“Maybe later.” He answered, leaning into your touch.

He inched closer to you, pulling you close to him. He wrapped his arms around you in a rare hug. You relished in the action, pulling him closer as well. You ran your fingers against his short hair. Crosshair never hugged you for more than a few seconds, but you sat there for a while before the clone pulled away to kiss you again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Cross?”

“Just missed you.” He spoke softly.

He hugged you close again. It made you wonder what was going through his head right now. The stoic man Crosshair usually appeared as was fading the longer he held onto you. Something wasn’t right.

[axoxtxhxh]

Pairing: Sub!Goshiki x DomFem! Chubby!Reader Part 2 Summary: You met your good friend Goshiki at work one day, having similar interests in books. When you start developing feelings for him, things get difficult. Especially when he asks a special favor. Content: Body image issues, heated makeout session, strong sexuality, heavy grinding over clothes Word Count: ~ 4,100

A/N: Yay for part two! This is Part 2 of my three part series with Goshiki! I will post Part 3 on Friday. If you missed Part 1, check out the Please Me Series Masterlist where you can find all of our stories for the Please Me series!

One week. It had been one full week since you’d heard from Goshiki. He left your apartment so quickly and you didn’t really have much time to think about why before your self-doubt and body image issues took over. It was stupid of you to be so upset over it because honestly, you really had only met Goshiki a couple months ago. But it did hurt and you wereupset because these last couple months had been the best months you’d ever had and it was as if it was all taken away in that moment he walked out the door.

You were tracing circles on the desk at work when you saw someone walk into the bookstore and your eyes shot to the door. It wasn’t Goshiki and you slumped back down, drawing your circles.

“God, you’re depressing.” Dylan’s voice came from behind you. “Why don’t you just text him?”

“So I can be that weird clingy person.” You shivered, standing up straight and facing him. “No thank you.”

“You’re a writer and you don’t think that maybe he hasn’t texted because he’s thinking the same thing? It’s writing 101.”

“I am a writer, but I already told you, I am not the kind of person that has a role in these stories. I’m like the side character that tells the main character they’re doing a great job.” You drummed your fingers on the desk, quickly looking at the door again as another person walked in and Dylan laughed.

“Why don’t you go take a break.” He stopped your fingers.

“I just had mine.”

“Well take another. And go for a walk. You’re going to break your neck if you keep looking at the entrance like that.” He laughed.

“I’m fine, Dylan.”

“You’re not and neither am I. I need coffee. Grab me some?”

“So now I’m your gofer?” You laughed, taking his card.

“And buy yourself something. I don’t need you ogling my cup when you get back.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You walked out the front and set out to your coffee shop. The fresh air did feel really nice, not to mention it was one of the better days that week, weather-wise. You almost wished the café were a little bit farther so you could have more time to enjoy the day. Almost wished. The amount of times the close proximity of this café had saved you from a rough work day was monstrous.

When you reached the coffee shop, it was midday and the way the light hit the glass windows and door, you couldn’t see the inside so it came as quite a shock when the door swung open and nearly hit you in the face. What came as more of a surprise was who was opening the door. You had a mini moment of panic as you watched Goshiki turn around, having used his butt to push the door open.

You both stood there for a second staring at each other, neither one of you knowing what to say.

“Gos—” You started, stopping when he said your name at the same time. You both laughed lightly which gave you a bit of hope. “You can go first.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down. “The way I left wasn’t really fair to you.”

“No, it’s okay. I feel like I sort of pushed you into the kiss.”

“No! You didn’t! It wasn’t the kiss.”

“It was because I sat on your lap.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, nodding and you sighed quietly, trying not to feel the ache in your heart.

You knew it. You knew it was because of you. He ran out because you nearly smothered him.

“I’ve just never had anyone… that close… like… on me. And the way we were touching… I was having… like—Ugh, I’m not making sense.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to explain.” You shrugged, hoping you seemed nonchalant and not like you were about to cry. “I get it.”

“You do?” His eyes opened wide and looked at you.

“Yeah, I know I’m not small.” You couldn’t look him in the eye so you focused on the two coffee cups in his hands. “It probably felt like you were being crushed—”

“What?” He interjected quickly. “No, that’s not it at all. Is that what you were thinking this whole time?”

“Well, yeah.” You finally looked up at him and he sighed.

“That—I keep telling you, you look amazing. It’s not you. The problem is that I’m a virgin. I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve barely even kissed anyone.”

“You—you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.”

“And you ran out…”

“Because I was nervous. I didn’t know how to tell you and I definitely didn’t know how to continue. I…” You could tell he was trying to figure out how to explain to you what he was feeling, but he couldn’t get it into words and you smiled. He didn’t think you were heavy. He didn’t think you were too big and he didn’t run out because he was disgusted by you.

“Goshiki?” You were still smiling, unable to hide your happiness at this new information. “Do you want to just forget it happened for now?”

You could visibly see the relief in his face and you watched his shoulders relax as he smiled.

“Yes. Honestly, that would be perfect. Can I walk you back to work?”

“Yes.” You nodded, a nearly permanent smile on your face. “Who’s the coffee for?”

He looked down at the cup in each hand. “You. I was going to bring it to you and apologize.”

You had a moment where you both looked at each other and smiled, both happy things were going to be okay before you quickly went in the coffee shop and bought Dylan’s coffee, taking your time on the walk back to the bookstore with Goshiki.

There was nothing hidden in the look on Dylan’s face as you stepped into the bookstore, waving to Goshiki as he headed back to practice.

“What the hell? I told you to get me a coffee and you come back with the guy you’ve been snapping your neck for every time someone walks in?”

“It was sending me to get you coffee that had me running into him.” You handed Dylan his cup. “It’s fine though. We were able to talk a little and I think things are okay.”

“If you had a talk that fast, things are not okay.”

“It was more like we talked about having a talk. He’s going to come by at the end of my shift.”

“So was I right?” He took a sip from his cup and you made a face.

“Right about what?” You drank from your cup, narrowing your eyes.

“He wasn’t texting you for the same reason you weren’t texting him?”

“What does that even matter.” You rolled your eyes.

“It does something to me knowing I’m right.” He smiled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if he could smell his correct guess. “Strokes my ego a bit.”

“I don’t think I’m willing to give you that satisfaction.”

“I was right.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.” He smiled and you turned around to look at the door, pretending to ignore him when he appeared at your ear, whispering. “I was right.”

The rest of your shift flew by yet somehow took forever to end. You tried to keep yourself busy, but there really was only so much you could do with limited customers and an anxious heart.

The one good thing that did come from your shift was the new shipments of books, one of them was the book both you and Goshiki had been waiting for. He still felt weird taking books home so you started buying them with your discount and you hid a stack for him behind the counter. All of your coworkers knew this so when he walked in, they handed him the stack and he found a place to sit and read. He was going to be so happy the new book came in and you were worried about how happy it made you at the thought of him being excited over it.

As the time got closer to when he was supposed to show up, you started to feel nervous.  You were happy things were better and you got to talk about what happened, but now it was becoming really hard to ignore the fact that you definitely did have feelings for Goshiki. He never made it clear whether he did or didn’t, he only mentioned that he had never had sex and doesn’t have a lot of experience, but that wasn’t enough for you to think that he could like you.

You could actually kick yourself for suggesting to forget about the kiss. He seemed really excited to forget it though so maybe he didn’t like you. But then again, he could have been happy to forget about the awkwardness in which case he may have been okay with the kiss and maybe did have feelings for you. Damn it, anxiety!

You dropped your head into your hands and looked down at the counter as your phone buzzed. It was five minutes until your shift was over and Goshiki just messaged.

No! You cannot meet me later! You thought. I am over here freaking out because I don’t know how you feel about me and I’m about to bury my head into the sand if I don’t die of a heart attack first.

Great, now he wasn’t even going to come to the bookstore. Your anxiety would have to sit a little longer.

You headed home and did your best not to think about it which was nearly impossible. With your laptop on your lap, you got to writing. If Goshiki was going to be a while, you might as well make use of the time. You mentally slapped yourself when you thought of the way his eyes glued to the screen when he read your stories and went back to focusing.

It took you a bit, but once you got into the zone, you were able to block out the rest of the world and the rest of your thoughts and just write. By the time you heard a knock at the door, you looked at the clock. It had been an hour. You moved your laptop to the coffee table and stood up, making your way to the door. Each step you took you got more and more nervous, no longer able to brush the anxiety aside because the cause of the anxiety was right behind the door. You took a deep breath and opened it.

Damn it. It was a package. The box was small and you could barely read the label, but as soon as you picked it up, you were almost jumping out of excitement. You went to the kitchen, grabbing scissors and opening the box up. Your business cards.

It had taken you a while to drum up the courage to order them. Both Dylan and Goshiki badgering you until you placed the order. The material you chose made the wait time so much longer, but it was way more than worth it holding it in your hands. The soft, almost velvety feel of the matte black card gave you a smile you couldn’t hold back. You closed your eyes, rubbing the card in between your fingers and smiled.

“Your cards came in?” A voice came from behind you and you jumped, your hand flying to your chest as you turned around.

“Holy shit, Goshiki. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He laughed. “The door was open so I thought you knew I was coming.

“I left it open?” You peeked behind him to the door.

“Yeah. I closed it.” He was looking at the counter where you left the box of cards. “Can I see them?”

“Here.” You handed him the card and he looked at it, smiling. “You can keep that one.”

“Thanks.”

Everything was so awkward. You couldn’t understand how it was so comfortable in front of the café, but now it was so awkward.

“Can we talk?”

That was why it was awkward. There was something he wanted to say and it had your chest tightening.

“Sure.”

You moved to sit on the couch and he sat next to you, rubbing his palms on his thighs. He looked up to you, opening his mouth like he was going to speak, but then closing it quickly and looking back down at his hands.

“You okay?”

“I… I’m okay. I was hoping that we could… I mean, I know you’re not—we’re not rea…” He blew air out through his cheeks.

“Goshiki, whatever it is, you can tell me.” You put your hand on his shoulder and felt him tense up. There was a short pause, but then he quickly turned to you and pushed himself forward so your lips were touching. His lips already moving roughly against yours.

His hand was on your cheek and trying to bring you closer to him. This was different than before, he was way more active, his tongue pushing through your lips, not even waiting for you to open your mouth. His weight pushed you back so you were almost laying down. It felt so good feeling his entire body against yours, so warm and strong, but you couldn’t shake that he was pushing too fast. You only just learned he was a virgin and now he was rushing into this.

“Go—Goshi—Goshiki! Wait.” You struggled to get a word out, each time your mouth was open, he used to chance to push his tongue in, but he pulled back to look at you. His lips were starting to look swollen, almost bee stung and it was adorable, but you shook that out of your mind. “What are—we just talked. I thought because of your inexperience…”

“I want to do it with you.” He spoke so casually, as if he’d seriously thought about it. “If that’s okay.”

If that’s okay? Yes! You most definitely wanted to rip his clothes off and run your tongue over every inch of him. The look in his eyes had you wetter than you could remember being, but this was kind of a big deal for him. You weren’t sure if rushing into this with you was such a good idea.

“I mean… are you sure?” You asked, rubbing his cheek lightly and he nodded.

“Take me.” He whispered as he leaned back in. You didn’t even have time to smile at his use of one of your favorite romance novel’s title before his lips were back on yours.

This time was way more passionate. You could feel his hands all over you, less hesitant than before as they moved up your body. His inexperience was so plainly obvious to you now that you knew it, it made you wonder how you didn’t notice before. The way his lips moved against your lips, still unsure of how they were supposed to fit with yours. The way his tongue was moving around your mouth heavily, almost beating the inside of your cheeks. The way his dick was honestly already so incredibly hard against your thigh. He was barely thrusting as he moaned into your mouth, his fingers tangled in your hair.

His other hand continued its movements up and down your sides, lingering longer each time as he got closer to your breasts.

You were finding it harder to guide him as he lay on top of you and you put your hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back, but at the slightest resistance from you, he quickly stopped. His eyes, so heavily lidded, looked down at you.

“A—Is it okay?” His cheeks were pink and his lips were red, shiny with spit, as he licked them.

“It’s okay.” You smiled. “Are you okay?”

“Your lips are so soft.” He leaned in again to kiss you. “They taste like strawberries.”

His mouth was all over yours again, but this time softer, gentler, and instead of his tongue being shoved into your mouth, it delicately brushed over your lips. All of it had your breath catching in your throat and you were wondering how he could have switched so quickly from the first kiss.

You felt that familiar tingle run through your body, goosebumps raising on your skin, and your hands went to Goshiki’s back to pull him closer to you. You wanted him. Your fear of overthinking anything was far from your mind as you felt his warm hand slide under your shirt and rest on your stomach.

God, he was so hard, his cock pressed up against you, his grinding became rougher, but you didn’t mind it at all. He was wearing his tracksuit and the pants were definitely thin enough for you to feel everything. Your lips were numb from all the kissing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away until he did, leaning back a little for air.

“Take off your jacket.” You commanded. He sat up fully, nodding and you sat up with him, pulling your own shirt off.

It was unfortunate that you really weren’t expecting anything like this to happen so your current bra situation was a sports bra, but at least it was your cute black one that showed off your cleavage. Based on the motionless stare Goshiki had on your breasts, he didn’t seem to mind at all what bra you were wearing.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, smiling with him into the kiss until his lips moved to your neck and you shivered at his breath on your skin. You could feel his inexperience again, but it’s almost as if it didn’t matter this time because he was grinding even harder against you and you wrapped your legs around him, almost forcing him into position to rub roughly against your clit.

Goshiki had been letting out tiny whimpers here and there as well as the occasional moan, but you had been relatively quiet until his erection hit that swollen and sensitive bud of nerves so perfectly that you moaned out, almost awkwardly with how loud it was and your hand went to his hair. If anything, Goshiki took this as a sign to keep going and he ground harder against you, hoping to make you feel it again.

“It feels so good.” He whispered against your skin and you couldn’t have agreed more, literally pulling him even closer against you and he kept grinding, even faster, moaning even louder.

You loved when your partner was loud. From what you knew about Goshiki, he loved praise in everyday life. You could only imagine what it would do to him in the bedroom.

“I love the way you touch me.” You groaned quietly. He paused for a second before his hands started roaming over you again, this time further, touching parts of you he was too hesitant to touch before. “Just like that. Don’t stop, you’re so good at that.”

It’s like you could feel his heart racing, his uncertainty fading and his cock twitching against you as you complimented him. The more you praised him, the harder he worked, his moans getting louder and louder and it reached a point where if he wasn’t faking it, you were sure he would orgasm.

His face was still in your chest, his hips wildly rubbing against you. His moaning turned to groans which then became grunting before one long grunt escaped him and his hips flew forward against yours, his body shaking then stilling and he started panting.

You’re in no way an expert, but you were experienced enough to know that Goshiki just came in his pants. He wasn’t moving, his face was resting against your chest as he took deep breaths.

“Oh fuck.” You could hear him whisper into your chest. “Oh shit.”

“Goshiki.” Your hand was still on his back and you honestly didn’t know what to do or say to him because you really couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “It—it’s okay.”

That was probably the worst thing to say. You were not quick to thinking ever and this definitely showcased that. You’ve had men come too soon before, but you both kept going, waiting for him to be ready again before you moved forward.

It was different for Goshiki though and it was your job to guide him. A job you were failing at.

After a minute or so, he sat up, sitting back on the couch and he stared at the coffee table, unable to bring his eyes to you.

“Gosh—"

“I should go home and change.” He looked at you and you could see how mortified he felt before he quickly looked away. “Yeah, I’m gonna go change.”

“Um, okay.” You scooted off the couch to stand up with him. “Do you want me to come with?”

“No, it’s fine.” He already put his jacket back on and was moving to the door. “I’ll message you later.”

He didn’t message. Not that day and not the day after or the day after that. You were beginning to feel like it was your fault again. It wasn’t like before, but you felt just as bad as you did before.

The last time you felt like this, you were at work worried that you had destroyed your friendship with Goshiki and you started to feel better after going for a walk so that should work this time too. At least that’s what you told yourself when you started putting on your shoes. You opened your door to leave, to go somewhere, anywhere to get yourself out of your apartment and out of your head for a little.

When you opened the door, you jumped back, surprised someone was standing there. Goshiki had his hand up, ready to knock, a startled look on his face. You both stared at each other, stunned and completely not expecting to see the other. Goshiki’s hand stayed in the air, in a fist as if he was going to eventually need to knock. Like you would just close the door so the entire exchange could start fresh.

“Goshiki.” You were the first one to speak and when you did, it’s as if he woke up and slowly put his hand down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t message. I said I would.”

It was still really uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what to say and it wasn’t as if you were mad, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe he thought you were mad. The pause before you spoke was too long and now you felt like you couldn’t say anything at all because it would seem weird or fake because you hesitated. Damn it, anxiety!

“Sorry. You must have been going somewhere.” He stepped to the side, looking down and you could tell he was contemplating just leaving.

“Do you want to talk?” You also stepped aside and he looked up, pausing before nodding and stepping inside your apartment.

It seemed like a terrible idea to sit on that couch so you moved to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, Goshiki across from you.

“It was stupid and unfair of me to leave again.” He started. “I—”

“No, it was my fault.” You stepped closer to him, leaning on the kitchen island in between the both of you. “I should have been better. I’m the one with experience.”

“But leaving isn’t helpful. I promise, I won’t leave anymore. I was just so embarrassed.” He rubbed his forehead, making a face, his cheeks already a bright pink at the memory.

“There’s nothing wrong with coming in your pants.” You assured him. “I came in my pants too.”

“You did?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you.

“No, sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” You admitted and he looked back down, discouraged again and you walked around the counter, putting your hand on his shoulder. “I mean, I could have, if—”

“If I didn’t come in mine first?” He laughed and you almost let a sigh of relief out at seeing his smile. “Can I be honest?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I might like you.” He looked down, not able to look at you while he spoke. Though if he did, he would have seen the huge smile on your face. “So as much as I want to lose my virginity, maybe we could slow down.”

The only visual description you had for describing how you felt in that moment was fireworks. Fireworks were going off in your brain, in front of your eyes, all around Goshiki and you couldn’t believe what he had said. He liked you.

“Goshiki?” It was still nearly impossible to contain your excitement at his confession, but you were doing your best, biting your lip so you wouldn’t scream out with delight. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

He quickly looked up at you and smiled. That smile you can never say no to.

.....

Taglist: @chaotic-nick​ @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes​ @serostapesweat​ @lovelyzabrak-meadow​

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 10

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  Neither you nor Din are handling your capture well.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,978

Warnings: captured reader, surprises, plot plot plot, violence, Din goes a bit dark side

Author Note: So sorry this is coming out late 😳 Between making YouTube videos and New Years everything got hectic, but here it is. I attempted writing from Din’s perspective this time so bear with me cuz he’s having a rough time😬 

Links to Part 1 and Part 9 and Part 11

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

When you wake up, you’re lying facedown on a pallet in a dark and cold room. You groan, head pounding, and try to sit up, but your weak muscles protest, resulting in you rolling awkwardly onto your backside. Squinting up at the ceiling, you notice it is made of rock, as is the wall to the right of you.

Your head lolls to the left, granting you a lovely view of a red laser gate trapping you inside this strange cell. The faint glow it gives off produces barely enough light to reveal more rocky walls curving off to the side. You’re in a cave, you realize, processing everything at the rate of a snail’s pace, or some kind of underground tunnel.

At first you can’t remember how you ended up here, or what happened to you, but then everything hits you all at once.

“Finally,” a voice declares from beyond your cell. The purple twi’lek from earlier steps out of the shadows and leers at you from the other side of the laser gate. “I was beginning to think I misjudged the dosage.”

With monumental effort, you push yourself onto your knees, dizziness slamming into your skull with the brutal intensity of a hammer, and reach a hand out to summon your bow.

Nothing happens.

“What—why isn’t it—” The words are thick and clumsy, slurring together as if your tongue has forgotten how to form them individually. Closing your eyes to stop the room from spinning, you feel nothing but unbalanced and vulnerable. You try to speak again, taking a steadying breath. “What is wrong with me?”

“You’ve been collared. All the pets in the Moff’s collection wear one,” she answers, as casually as if she’s discussing the weather outside. “Keeps you from using your abilities and causing trouble.”

She has no reason to lie, but you still gasp when your trembling hand brushes against the metal band encircling your neck. Panicking, you pull on it without thinking, only for a responding jolt of electricity to shock your fingertips and fry every nerve ending in your body. You cry out at the pain, but the sound is drowned out by the twi’lek’s screech-like laughter.

“That never gets old,” she says, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.

“Death,” you mutter hoarsely, closing your eyes again and breathing shallowly through your mouth. “Death is going to slaughter all of you.”

“Oh, pet, you just don’t get it, do you?“ Her voice is practically dripping with condescension as she coos at you, “The Moff wants you here because you’re precious to Death.”

Against your better judgement, you open your eyes to look at her, confused by the wide smile you see stretching across her face. At headquarters, Gideon and your superiors had seemed far more concerned about the fact you had a second soulmate rather than who it was you matched with. If Gideon is punishing you for being Din’s soulmate (a fate which you had no control over whatsoever), you can’t help thinking he must be insane or have a legitimate desire to have his body dismembered piece by bloody piece. There is no denying that Din will do anything he can to get you back. Even break the rules of the universe.

You freeze.

Kriff. The puzzle pieces begin fitting together and you loathe the hideous picture they form.

“You are Death’s weakness. And anyone with a weakness can be taken advantage of if the right strings are pulled,” the twi’lek says, confirming your fears. She then winks at you coyly. “Congratulations, pet, you’ve just become Moff Gideon’s favorite puppet.”

You barely refrain from shouting curses at her as she walks away, leaving you alone with your chaotic thoughts.

Lying back down on the pallet, you press your hands over your eyes, tuning out the coldness of your surroundings and seeking out the warmth of your soulmate bond. You call out Din’s name within your mind, a repetitive chant increasing in urgency as you pray against all odds he hears you. But as the silence continues and you start to feel a phantom sensation of pain emanating from your throat, as if you have actually scraped it raw by how loudly you call, your heart breaks as it accepts the bitter truth: he can’t hear you.

You touch the collar again, every internal instinct you have screaming it is to blame for the invisible wall blocking you from reaching out to Din. How long have you been collared? How much time has passed since you were drugged at headquarters? Regardless, you don’t have any doubt Din is losing his mind right now. And his temper.

A few tears leak from the corners of your eyes, but you do not sob or sniffle. Gideon and his minions will not have the satisfaction of hearing you crying. Din wouldn’t like it either, you think, remembering his reaction on the Razor Crest when he’d found you panicking. He had held your hand, offering you any support he could to end your sorrows. Even offering to kill for you.

It’s funny, though, because few people seem to realize the feeling is mutual. You would do anything in the galaxy to spare Din a second’s worth of pain. If Gideon is under the impression you’ll just silently let him use you in order to exploit Din to do his bidding, then he’s going to be thoroughly pissed to learn just how stubborn you can be. Taking away your Cupid abilities might have weakened you, but you’re not going to be a helpless kriffing damsel.

Although, you correct yourself ruefully as you lower your hands and look around your confines, you might currently be a little helpless. You take in the high ceiling above you, thinking you’ll be able to stand at full height once the effects of the drug wear off and still not be able to touch the top. It scares you to think how far your cell has been dug beneath the surface of whichever planet Gideon has imprisoned you on. The twi’lek had referenced he had a collection of others hidden away in these tunnels. How many have died here with no one up above being any the wiser?

Pushing the morbid thoughts aside, your gaze drifts along the walls, noting the varying shapes and sizes of the rocks. They are all different shades of brown except for one odd green one in the corner. You look at the laser gate, knowing it can’t be shut off unless you have access to the generator which severely limits your plans of escaping since—

Your thoughts screech to a halt as your eyes snap back to the corner.

A rock does not have a little green body clothed in brown wool or long pointed ears. Nor does it peer back at you with large, innocent eyes as it clutches a piece of dirty black fabric with tiny three-fingered hands. And it certainly doesn’t waddle up to you and coo curiously in your stunned face.

You rub at your eyes, half-convinced you have now begun hallucinating things.

Nope. That little green face is still there when you open them again. It’s official, your brain isn’t screwing with you.

Your cellmate is a kriffing baby.

~~

Decades ago Din was approached by a man who begged to be killed. He had been separated from his soulmate against his will and compared the pain he felt to the sensation of a thousand needles injecting acid straight into his bloodstream. However, Din had sensed the man’s lifetime was far from over and ignored his pleas.

Thinking about that incident now, Din has determined the man’s comparison to be a gross understatement. Being forcefully separated from his angel is as if an invisible force is holding him underwater, wishing him to drown. His brain is on the verge of exploding, torn between thoughts of bloodthirsty savagery and the overwhelming agony of not being able to breathe without her in his sight. Every hour they remain apart threatens to rob him of his sanity and transform his outward appearance from man to monster.

 Already he has experienced a lapse in control of his powers the moment he’d first felt their bond had been blocked. He’d been forced to teleport away from Kuiil’s farm, lest he risk reaping the Ugnaught’s soul before its destined time, and unleashed his wrath upon an uninhabitable Outer Rim planet. His powers had pierced its core in the same effortless manner a vibroblade cuts through flesh, killing its essence instantaneously. In a matter of minutes, the planet would be nothing more than scattered dust particles floating through the vastness of space, though he did not linger to witness the destruction.

Instead, he returned to his ship and sent a holographic message to his most trusted reapers, assigning them the critical task of searching the galaxy for one specific target: Valin Hess. While they hunted down the bastard, he dedicated his time to searching for his better half. He extended his powers to each individual planet and moon in every region, tendrils of darkness looking through homes and alleyways for even the faintest trace of her vibrant aura amongst trillions of souls.

Now, ten hours later, he is interrupted by the chime of an incoming call.

“Come to Trask,” Bo-Katan says bluntly, not one to waste crucial time with excess words. “I've got him ready for you.”

“Good,” Din says. His own voice sounds strange even to himself. As he reaches for his helmet, his reflection in its visor reveals his eyes have changed from brown to solid black, his true form beginning to break through the human facade he cloaks himself in. 

He had been warned in the past of the grievous consequences that will ripple across the galaxy should he ever lose control of his internal darkness. But if unleashing that force brings him even one step closer to reuniting with his angel?

He won’t even hesitate a heartbeat.

~~

You are quick to learn three important facts about your cellmate.

First and foremost, the baby adores attention. Within minutes of discovering him, he climbs into your lap and snuggles against your stomach, making a strange purring sound of happiness. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when you notice the tiny collar around his neck, identical to yours. Why would Gideon be keeping a child in his collection? Any potential answer that comes to mind makes you feel sick.

“You’re safe with me,” you tell him gently, stroking your fingertips over his wrinkly brow and the sparse amount of fuzzy hair on top of his head. He coos as if he understands you, ears perking up. “We’ll get through this together.”

Secondly, he is extremely possessive of his belongings. You learn this the hard way when you reach for the torn piece of black fabric he has gripped in his hands, intending to get a closer look at it because it doesn’t resemble a usual child’s blanket, but instead more so a torn bit of clothing—only for surprisingly sharp teeth to nip at your fingers.

You pull your hand away and hold it up, showing you mean no harm. “I’m sorry, bud. I should have asked permission first.”

Brown eyes stare back at you for a silent beat, painfully reminding you so much of Din you almost can’t bear to look at them, before the baby bobs his head with a low grunt. You chuckle at his cuteness. Although you hate the unfairness of the situation, you’re grateful for his presence as it stops you from worrying incessantly about your disconnected bond. As long as you wear the collar, you remind yourself, there isn’t anything you can do to reach Din. So you’ll just have to continue being patient and live with the uncomfortable hollow sensation until you can determine the best opportunity of freeing yourself.

And the baby now, too, you can’t help but silently add, looking down at him.

It is impossible for you within your cell to tell how much time passes as there are not any nearby clocks or windows providing a glimpse of the sky. As a Cupid, nourishment isn’t a necessity like it is for mortals, so you’re unsurprised no one has come by to offer you food or water. However, the same apparently can’t be said for the baby whose stomach growls unexpectedly, startling you both with its loudness.

He looks down at himself then at the laser gate. His ears twitch, as if he hears something, before he lets out a quiet whine. You open your mouth, wanting to console him, only for him to push himself out of your lap and waddle quicker than you anticipate towards the corner you initially spotted him in.

Thirdly, he is a master escape artist.

“What—” you start to ask, only for your jaw to drop when he squeezes himself through a small hole you failed to notice earlier, no bigger in diameter than a womp rat’s body, and disappears from view.

You stare at the corner, a million questions swirling inside your brain, each one focused on the baby. Where the kriff did he go? What is on the other side of the wall? Will he be okay?

The laser gate abruptly vanishes, plunging your cell into total darkness. You immediately press your back against the wall, blinking rapidly to try to adjust your vision, but you can’t even see your own hands in front of you. There is a distinct clicking sound of a button being pressed and then a glowing black blade lights up mere inches away from the side of your face, nearly singing your hair. You’re unable to stop yourself from crying out in terror, flinching backwards and hitting your head hard enough you see stars.

Over the pounding of your heartbeat and the eerie humming of the weapon next to your ear, you hear a familiar chuckle.

You freeze. Dank farrik.

“Believe it or not,” Gideon begins, looming ominously in the darkness. “I remember our first meeting when you awoke after your transformation. You weren’t special by any means, not one detail even remotely suggesting you would become such an invaluable asset to my plans. I’ve come to realize your unmemorable appearance was the universe’s attempt of concealing you from me. It might have worked, too, except the universe is a hopeless romantic, unable to help itself from matching soulmates. How else can it be explained why you were chosen out of all potential Cupids to monitor Death each month, thus increasing your affections for each other, if not for fate’s divine intervention?”

Gideon lifts the blade away from your personal space and holds it in front of him, outlining his features enough you’re able to see him peering down at you, expression blank and giving you no hints as to what is going on inside his head right now. “Your capture has driven Death into quite a frenzy. His influence can be felt in each region of space. Even his reapers have become involved.”

He pauses, as if he’s expecting a response from you, but you’re unable to look away from the laser sword in his grip. You wonder if all seraphs possess them, such as all Cupids wield bows, or if he had it specially crafted for his own pleasure. Regardless, the negative energy it radiates is strong enough that you feel as if dozens of spiders are crawling over every inch of your entire body.

“Your soulmate has no notion of my involvement, but even if it were revealed to him you are being kept here I thoroughly warded this location to hide myself from those intending me harm. Your presence will continue to remain invisible to his powers as long as he desires bloodshed. So I suggest you better make yourself comfortable because this cell shall be your home for the foreseeable future.”

Swallowing against your suddenly dry throat, you ask, “Do you honestly think keeping me hostage will grant you control over him?”

Gideon inclines his head. “I think you underestimate his willingness to guarantee your safety. He’ll commit any sin imaginable if it means not one hair harmed on your head.”

“Death won’t listen to a single word unless he has proof I’m okay,” you say, the beginnings of a risky plan forming in your head. “Which means you have to let me talk to him.”

“I’m not the fool you think I am,” he replies, shaking his head in a reproachful manner, as if you are no older than a child. But your hopes rise when you notice there is the smallest glimmer of intrigue in his eyes.

You position yourself on your knees, eyes wide and brimming with tears, clasping your hands together as you start to beg. “Please, sir, the separation is tearing me apart. I can’t handle the pain anymore. I must see him. I’ll convince Death to kill whoever in the galaxy you want. He’ll do it without question if I’m the one who asks.”

Gideon considers you wordlessly for a long moment. The hum of the weapon and your heavy, anxious breathing are the only audible sounds. And in that moment you pray harder than you’ve ever prayed in your entire lifetime.

Let this work. Please, please let this work.

You know the exact second he gives in to your begging because a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, teeth bared almost predatorily.

“Very well then. Tomorrow I will make preparations for you to contact Death. Think carefully until then about what you will say in order to convince him to be agreeable with me. It would be a shame to use this ,” his sword hovers in front of your face once more, the tip nearly touching your chin, “to cut off your tongue should you fail or if you attempt to be clever and alert him of your whereabouts.”

Step one complete, you think to yourself after he has departed and the laser gate returns. Wiping away the lingering tears, you begin to plan step two.

Getting this kriffing collar off your neck.

~~

Valin Hess is every bit the smug bastard Din predicted him to be. Despite the binders securing his wrists to a pipe high above his head and his bleeding split lip, the high-ranking Cupid still has enough arrogance to smirk at Din when he arrives at the abandoned warehouse Bo-Katan chose as the setting for the interrogation.

“Tell me where she is,” Din demands through clenched teeth as he marches up to the pompous prick without sparing a glance towards the red-haired reaper silently leaning against the nearby wall. He knows Bo-Katan is smart enough not to intervene.

“Just who would you be referring to?” Hess blinks innocently back at him.

His nose crumples beneath the knuckles of Din’s fist, blood bursting from his nostrils and staining Din’s gloves crimson.

“I am not known for my patience,” Din says. “Your suffering will only worsen the longer you keep me from my soulmate. I know you are aware of where she’s being kept. So tell. Me. Now.”

Untamed fury burns hotly beneath his skin, threatening to incinerate his mortal guise and his armor as if both were made of paper. It takes all of Din’s self-control not to give into the wicked desire to break each one of the Cupid’s bones, to peel off his skin layer by layer, to twist and carve and scar his body until there is not a single identifiable feature left.

“I haven’t the faintest notion nor care where she wound up.” Hess’ naturally gruff voice has changed to a nasally sounding one due to his broken nose. If the response hadn’t further stirred Din’s annoyance, he might have smirked beneath his helmet instead of snarled. “As soon as that twi’lek dragged her unconscious body out of headquarters, she became a nonentity to me.”

Din places his gloved hands over the other immortal’s shoulders, resting them there long enough Hess starts to twitch, unable to hide his increasing panic, and then Din squeezes until both clavicles shatter at the same time with a resounding crack . Hess tosses his head back, howling like a wounded animal, but Din is not yet finished.

He slams his fists against Hess’ torso, growling loud enough to be heard over the merciless snapping of each individual rib, “Give me a name.”

When the only answer he receives is agonized screaming, Din decides another approach is necessary to produce the desired results. He rips his gloves off, this time unable to resist smirking when Hess immediately starts to choke on his tongue and blood as he shakes his head emphatically, eyes blown wide with fear.

Din’s fingers reach out towards the Cupid’s temples, the veins in his hands ominously black in color.

“Xi’an!” Hess shouts, blood spraying from his mouth and painting Din’s visor. He doesn’t even notice, already planning the hunt for his next target. “The twi’lek that took your whore is named Xi’an!”

Din stills. “My... whore?”

Every lightbulb within the warehouse shatters, glass and sparks raining down upon them and the concrete floor. Hess starts babbling, a litany of apologetic words, but Din is beyond reasoning. Something sinister and feral has awakened within him, intertwining itself with his powers and enhancing their strength beyond what he ever imagined possible.

Din has reaped countless souls over the span of his existence. He has mastered the precise method of coaxing a soul out of a corpse, persuading them gently with his powers. Once the essence is held within his grip, the universe judges it, deciding either eternal damnation or a glorious afterlife. Most people tend to think Din is who chooses their fates, one of the many reasons why they fear him, but he has never been powerful enough to personally influence anyone’s destiny.

Until now.

He lowers one hand to hover over the center of Hess’ sternum, sensing the soul living deep within. It is a little battered from Din’s assault, but otherwise it resembles every other soul he’s ever reaped: a glowing, fidgety, amorphous bundle of energy.

Usually, he’d patiently guide the soul towards the corpse’s esophagus. But Hess is undeserving of such kindness. Din’s powers sink into the essence like sharpened claws, yanking it into Hess’ throat. The soul puts up a valiant fight, recognizing its host is still alive and thus should not be prematurely abandoned. But Din will not yield to its struggles, his powers manifesting dark tendrils to wrap around it in an unbreakable hold.

“You’re killing him!” Din hears someone call out over the harsh choking sounds Hess is making. Their voice is familiar and feminine sounding. “It’s not his time, you have to stop!”

Stop? No. He can’t. Not now when he’s on the verge of fulfilling the oath he’d sworn to his angel.

With one forceful twist of his wrist, the soul is helplessly torn from Hess’ bloodstained mouth and ensnared by Din’s awaiting hand. Without the essence of life, the light fades from the Cupid’s eyes and his broken body hangs limply from the binders.

The afterlife was never going to be an option as the soul’s final destination. However, Din has decided damnation is also too kind a place for vermin like Hess. There must be a third fate, he thinks.

Din squeezes his fist tighter and tighter, generating a cacophony of anguished shrieks from the soul. Ignoring the near-deafening cries, he gradually increases the pressure until at last it lets out one final high-pitched wail before disintegrating into dust that forms an unsuspecting pile on the floor when he uncurls his fingers.

A sharp gasp has Din turning, forgetting he has a witness present, and he finds Bo-Katan staring back at him with blatant horror. “What have you done?”

“What was necessary.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @oh-no-a-whovian​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[its-deputy-caleb]

Micah Bell - Partners in Crime and in Love Pt.1

YES i know there’s 58 requests sitting in my inbox for re8 HOWEVER red dead is my comfort game and i needed to write this verbal mess down. I’ve been thinking of writing a micah fic for weeks now and i finally did it bc as much as i love re8 red dead is my fav and always will be. this is so self indulgent i swear.

for anyone that actually reads this the reader is pretty gn but does lean towards fem this time and i’ll be doing a part 2 for sure bc i love the rat man.

part 2 is now here

—————————————————————

Today was finally the day. The day for the big bank job that Dutch insisted was the right move for the gang. This was despite numerous doubts from Hosea and various other camp members that robbing a bank in broad daylight in the state’s largest city was a risk the gang couldn’t afford to make right now.

The whole morning there had been a sour feeling in your gut, a tiny voice shouting in the back of your mind that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like you to get nervous on a job, in fact you recently robbed the Valentine bank with Bill on his job. Originally you weren’t interested in going, happy to let Karen go on her own with the guys but Bill insisted you go as you were one of the best gunslingers the gang had.

Robbing and killing came naturally to you and being outlawed in six states had never bothered you during your time as an outlaw. That’s why it was almost impossible for you to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach that was slowly building.

Making your way over to Micah, you see him sitting on a wooden crate cleaning his guns for the inevitable shootout that comes with bank jobs. Taking a seat next to him, Micah doesn’t need to ask you how you are; he can practically see how restless and agitated you look.

That’s the thing about your relationship with Micah, you understood each other (especially in public) and didn’t need grand public displays of affection to know exactly what the other needed in that moment.

The camp mostly stayed clear of your relationship, I mean you were probably two of the camp’s biggest troublemakers and risk takers when it came to planning jobs and robbing folk. Both of you had a shot quicker than lightening and could practically shoot your way out of any situation you found yourselves in. But regardless of how ruthless anyone thought you two were, you always had each other’s backs and wouldn’t stop to think about saving the other.

One night after a successful train job Dutch decided to hold a camp celebration. It was a mostly quiet night for you, having not decided to party with your companions despite Sean, Charles and Javier all offering for you to join in. Instead you decided to spend the mostly quiet night with Micah sharing a bottle of whiskey and splitting your share of the earnings. After each job you always had a bet with Micah over who could shoot the highest number of lawman. It was a bet the two of you had with each other just to cause more mischief and it always brought a smile to your face when Micah would lose and sulk about it for the rest of the afternoon

At one point during the night Bill strolled over to you while Micah went to get another bottle of whiskey. He was nice and polite despite the smell of beer coming from his breath, maybe even a little flirtatious and all was well until he asked the question ‘Why is you with a rat like him when you could be with someone as charming as me?’. Bill ended up with a face full of dirt and a broken nose, not to mention a killer hangover.

So yeah, the gang tended to leave you and Micah alone…

Micah’s knee lightly brushing against your own brings your thoughts back to reality. He’s stopped cleaning his guns and is looking at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile, the one that’s only reserved for you.

Despite being a hardened outlaw that has known nothing but chaos and the open road for most of your life. The gang has observed from afar your softer sides, whether it be the time you both fell asleep next to each other by the campfire or getting shit scared when the other has been shot and the rest of the night is spent with soft kisses and bandage wrapping.

Micah holsters his revolver and gently takes your hand in his.

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be fine, ain’t nothing gonna go wrong, now common let’s go get dressed for such a special occasion.”

~

Everyone is just starting to get into their fancy attire for the job when you and Micah are already packing your saddles and getting ready. You’re wearing matching white suits with a red shirt only yours is tailored to show off your figure a lot more and your plunge top and corset doesn’t leave much to the imagination but hey, if you’re gonna go out it’s gonna be in style.

As Micah finishes tightening up Baylock’s saddle you lean forward and hold his wrist in your hand. Your thumb gently brushes the soft skin there, trying to hide the nerves that have been slowly eating away at you all day.

“I don’t like this Micah, somethings gonna go wrong I can feel it…”

Micah’s never been great with emotions but you’ve known him long enough to know how he comforts you. The arm that’s caught in your grasp turns and brings you forward into a hug, his chin resting on your head as you hold him tightly against you.

“Ain’t nothin gonna happen to us, just think of it as another bank job.”

You nod and hold him closer, a rare event for such a public place where anyone could walk by but neither of you really cared at that moment. You press your face into his shoulder, trying to shake off your uneasiness.

“You better not die on me now Bell, you still owe me that new holster for beating you in five finger fillet.”

~

Fuck did the bank job go wrong. Horribly wrong. From the moment you got off your horses and stepped foot in that bank it all turned to hell.

Bullets where flying everywhere, there were civilians screaming in terror trying not to get caught in the crossfire, glass was being shattered by dynamite and Dutch was trying to formulate a plan while in shock of losing his dear Hosea.

A bullet whizzed past your head and you took out another Pinkerton. It was chaos. Every time you managed to bring down the line of Pinkertons another carriage full of them would arrive with the Saint Denis Police.

You couldn’t see Micah anywhere, but each time you tried to look for him your attention was dragged back to the action in front of you and the numerous Pinkertons shooting at you.

Arthur had snuck onto the roof at some point and some of the other members where making their way towards the rooftop as well. You were about to make a bolt towards Dutch and Javier on the ladder when Charles stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Go that way, we’re the diversion! Karen and Sadie are a waiting near the alleyway of the tavern, we’ll meet you back at camp in a few hours, GO!”

Charles pushes you down the alley way and climbs up the ladder to catch up to the others. You would’ve protested but your body is running on adrenaline so you didn’t think as you snuck your way out of safety.

~

Micah was furious that Charles had sent you off on your own to find your way back, if it wasn’t for the fact that the five of them where hiding from the law in a rundown city apartment he probably would have argued with him for hours.

But deep down he knew it was the right thing to do. He knew that you’d be 100 times safer away from this chaos then if you were here with him, even if you could handle yourself.

For hours they sat in that little room, Dutch formulating a plan on how to get out of here while Micah tried not to worry about whether you made it home safe. Now he understood that sick feeling of worry in your stomach, he only ever got it when he worried about you.

By nightfall Dutch had somewhat of a plan to escape via the docks, sneak out onto a ship that would take them somewhere and it hit Micah in that moment that it would be some time before he saw you again…

The guards where everywhere, the entire city on high alert after the bank and Charles ended up running so everyone could make it onto a boat. As Dutch attempted to negotiate with the captain for a cabin, Micah lit a cigarette from his blazer pocket, trying to take his first deep breath of the night.

“We were fools for thinking we could pull off the bank…”

Arthur rests against the crates, fatigue clear in his eyes but willing himself to stay awake. Micah however didn’t want to sit and talk about what could have happened and what actually did, he had a headache already and certainly didn’t need a lecture from Arthur for another reckless decision he helped create.

“Whatever you say Morgan.”

Sighing defeatedly, Micah flicks his cigarette bud over the side and into the water below, making his way to go sit on the other side of the crates where he can think.

~

Back at camp you pace around the halls of Shady Belle, the floorboards creaking under the weight of your boots.

“Fuck this I’m going to find them-“

Before you make it out the front door however Miss Grimshaw blocks your exits.

“You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. The Pinkertons are everywhere looking for us. Now I know you want your precious Mr. Bell back but you’re just going to have to wait out the next few hours until he returns with the rest.”

You decide to ignore the slight condescending tone of Susan as you see a rider approaching into camp. Your hand is on your holster, everyone who’s left joining you to crowd around the man slowly coming closer. Everyone is relieved to see its Charles, but only slightly. He’s alone and a horrible feeling of fear washes over you.

“Charles… Where is everyone… Where’s Micah?”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 2

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; gender stereotyping; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

The music reader listens to is inspired by Frederic, specifically their songs ‘oodloop’, ‘OWARASE NIGHT’, and ‘Kanashii Ureshii’ and you can look up the MVs on YT. They have subs, yes the lyrics inspired certain scenes, no I have no idea what is going on, and I don’t know why they’re dancing like that lol

–

1.

-

She slapped him across the face.

You froze.

The cassette smashed.

“I hate you, Min Yoongi!”

She shouted it so loud that you heard it over your music. Your finger instinctively went to your earbud and tapped it, pausing the sound. You couldn’t believe your eyes. What had this guy done? What had this guy done to be yelled at like that the second he stepped off the night train to stand in front of his girlfriend?

“Useless piece of trash, always fucking late!”

Slapping him over and over, so loud because the train station was completely empty except for you and these two, yelling obscenities and the guy was just standing there, taking it, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry for what? Why did she keep hitting him? Why? Stop it. Stop hitting him.

“Such a fucking waste of life, I can’t believe I have to be your girlfriend!”

Stop it.

“No one will ever fucking love you, you shithead, so I’m stuck with your stupid self!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Mumbles. Fear.

Stop it!

“You think anyone will ever do anything for you the way I do? I’m all you have!”

Within two seconds, you crossed the space between you and them.

You smacked her hand away from him.

Pause.

You hesitated to press play. Standing in front of this random guy you didn’t even know, fury in your chest so strong that you forgot you were a stranger, glaring at this scowling, rage-filled woman with vehement disdain. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, you had no idea why he was being slapped so much, you had no idea why this woman was so angry and maybe there were very good reasons for it all, but somehow.

Somehow you didn’t think so.

Play.

“Stop it. He said he was sorry,” you barked, narrowing your eyes.

Her pretty face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck is this bitch, Yoongi? A whore you picked up?”

“I… I don’t know her…” the man behind you rasped, trying to move around you, but you kept yourself between the two, shouldering your backpack.

“I don’t know him. I just know you shouldn’t be hitting someone like that.”

The woman snapped at you, rising to her full height, challenging you. “This isn’t any of your fucking business. This is between me and him and doesn’t concern outsiders. Tell her, Yoongi.”

But you didn’t let Yoongi tell you, cutting him off as he tried to speak.

“This isn’t my business, but I’ve seen enough examples to be able to spot domestic violence when I see it,” you growled.

The woman scoffed, flipping her hair. “Domestic violence,” she snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not like I hit him that hard. I’m a woman.”

You curled your hands into fists.

“You stupid bully.”

The woman looked taken aback. “What?”

“I said, you’re a stupid fucking bully,” you snarled, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one back. “You think this is nothing, until you have children and your children have to watch this shit over and over, every night, thinking it’s right, thinking it’s the way it should be, but you’re fucking wrong, because this is not a relationship, this is not love, this is fucking bullying and you are a stupid, dumb bully who can’t admit you have an inferiority complex and your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example, so do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here and leave this guy alone, because you are an absolute sewage of a human being.”

She gawked at you, slack-jawed, probably never been talked to in such a forceful manner before, but you didn’t care, because you didn’t spend years in therapy to watch this shit happen right in front of your face.

Never in your entire life had you ever been so angry at a stranger before.

The woman seemed to gather her bearings and spat at the floor, staining the concrete with her spit. You raised your eyebrows, unintimated. She stamped her foot at your lack of reaction, pointing accusingly at Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t you ever think about coming back home. I’m burning all your shit.”

She turned her heel and stomped away.

You almost expected Yoongi to run after her, but he didn’t. He just stood behind you and breathed laboriously. You suddenly realized that you might have done something mildly insane. She said she was going to burn all his shit.

“Hmph,” you heard the mumble behind you. “All I had was clothes anyway.”

You turned around. He wasn’t looking at you. His black hair was all over his face, and his face mask was half-pulled down, revealing his red cheeks. You looked away quickly, taking a step back.

“Are you… okay?” you asked quietly.

You saw his eyes shift around. He didn’t actually respond. Just shrugged.

You bit your lip.

Silence.

“There… are no more trains,” the Yoongi guy whispered.

“Y… Yeah.”

Silence.

The lights above you were harsh, casting large shadows all over the concrete. Nothing but the sounds of the city and the darkness above, the moon witnessing it all.

He turned away from you, walking over towards the benches. Walking away. The crumpled paper of a man, shrinking as he took one step, then another, farther and farther away from you, and you opened your mouth to shout after that black back, extending your hand in the air.

“H-Hey!”

Pause.

He turned his head around to look at you with broken and lonely eyes.

“If you want… I have a couch and some blankets.” You swallowed, knowing how crazy it was. “Because… You shouldn’t go back. I…” Don’t want you to end up like my dad. “Even if it’s one night.”

I want to break this cycle.

“Just one.” You lowered your hand, holding up one finger. “One.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

Only turned around wordlessly and walked back to you, stopping in front of you. Saying nothing.

He didn’t say anything the entire walk.

Didn’t say anything as you opened the door and gestured him inside. Showed him the couch, got him the blankets. Asked him if he wanted anything else. He shook his head instead of talking. You ran to your room and got him a spare pillow. Held it out to him. He took it silently. Ran off again and got a new toothbrush from your stash of toothbrushes. An unopened travel toothpaste. Asked him if he wanted anything to eat. A glass of water. He shook his head.

Showed him the bathroom. A shower?

Shake, shake.

Okay.

You told him if he was cold to let you know. You would find another blanket.

Yoongi said nothing.

You nodded and turned away, letting him be. It was hard to look at him. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him or anything. But he reminded you too much of your dad if you stared at him too long. You had gotten him everything you could think of and let him know that if he needed anything to tell you.

You went to your bedroom and let out a big sigh.

No dance party tonight.

You went to your computer and opened Spotify. Put your headphones on and listened to the music, letting it carry you away. Before you knew it, one song flowed into another. You slowly began to bounce your head to the music, the cheerful, quirky beats making you smile, your hands moving on their own, lip-syncing the lyrics.

A happy tune with sad lyrics, but it made you smile at the same.

You failed to notice Yoongi appear at your door, holding his phone. He needed a charger. Did you have one? And then he saw the back of your head, bouncing along, headphones on.

He retreated back to your living room, clutching his phone. Decided to go to sleep instead.

Hours later, you finally decided to sleep, placing your headphones down. Was Yoongi sleeping? You padded over to the dark living room, seeing a bundled form on your couch. His coat was over the blanket. His head was under the blanket. Was he cold? You went back to your room and collected a pink knit one. Walked back to the living room and moved his jacket aside onto the armchair, putting the extra blanket on top of him.

His phone was on your coffee table, flashing. It was low on battery.

You checked if it was Android or iPhone. Android. Good, because you didn’t have a lightning cable, although you would have gone to the twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby to get one if he did have an iPhone. Back to your room. Got a charger and struggled to find an outlet in the dark. You’d think you would know where your own outlets were, but apparently you were too sleepy to remember. You felt around in the dark and poked at an outlet, stabbing the wall repeatedly before plugging it in. Maybe you should have turned a light on, sheesh.

You snaked the cable around and plugged his phone in. It vibrated approvingly and you gave it a thumbs up, even though it was an inanimate object.

Let’s just say living alone made you weird.

You let out an exhale and wandered off to brush your teeth.

Not noticing Yoongi had woken up and been watching your struggle. Saying nothing.

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Morning.

You yawned and nearly jumped when you saw the unmoving pink blob on your couch. Oh, right. You were surprised he wasn’t awake, but you shrugged. The blankets were over his head, blocking out the sun. You tried to stay quiet, opening your fridge, staring at the contents.

Staring at it with a million question marks.

You had… kimchi. Eggs. Cheese. Definitely expired take-out. You took that out and dumped it in the trash can, grimacing at it. A stranger didn’t need to see how disgusting that was. You went back to your fridge. Um. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook, it was that you didn’t have jack shit. And if you cooked on the stove, you would definitely wake up Yoongi.

Your stomach screamed in rage.

Feed me!

Ah, well. Sorry Yoongi. You settled on a kimchi-egg-cheese pancake thing. Was it going to be good? Sure. Was it not the most elegant thing in the world? Maybe. What can you do?

You began to chop the kimchi.

-

Yoongi turned over on the couch, groaning. He heard the sizzle of the pan. Smelled spice. Eggs. The world was unfamiliar. No one was yelling at him to get up. No one was doing the blankets off of him and calling him a lazy pig. 

"Motherfuc–!"

A female voice cursed in a loud whisper. You cut yourself off, muttering.

"Stupid oil, ugh."

Not his girlfriend. 

Slowly, Yoongi pulled the blankets off his head. An unfamiliar scent, different laundry detergent than he was used to. The sofa smelled different too, like vanilla with a hint of stale popcorn. Probably from being dropped in the cushions and forgotten about until months later. 

His stomach growled. 

The smell of the food enticed him. He got up, seeing you at the stove, wearing black pajamas with the sleeves rolled to your elbows, and a cream scrunchie holding your hair up. You made a face at the pan and scolded it. 

"Who's the boss here?" you hissed hotly at the sizzling food. "That's right, me, because I'm about to eat your ass, so simmer down and stop trying to singe my arm hair off."

Yoongi blinked. 

He got off the couch as you continued your quiet tirade, shoving your hand into a bag of cheese and sprinkling it on top, laying down a generous layer. 

You should cover it, Yoongi thought. To let the cheese melt. 

You grabbed a pan lid, and covered it. The lid definitely went to a separate set because it was a different shade of silver, but it didn't matter. You mumbled triumphantly at the pan. 

"Ha, take that, you stupid eggs, who's in the hot seat now, eh?"

Yoongi stared.

You lifted the lid and checked the cheese. A billow of smoke floated out. You seemed satisfied and turned off the gas. Lifted the pan and spun around. 

Froze. 

Yoongi blinked at you. 

Your eyes were wide, still holding the hot pan. 

Silence. 

A good ten seconds past. 

You slowly put the pan on the cork potholders at the counter. Two plates were at the counter with two sets of chopsticks.

"Uh... I made a kimchi-egg pancake t-thing..." you stuttered. "With cheese on top. You don't have to eat it. But I'm not going to poison you or anything. Er, well, that's something a someone who would poison you would say, huh? Oh, maybe I should have checked the expiration date on the kimc–"

"Why do you talk to your food?" Yoongi asked pointedly.

You turned bright red. 

"Um... bad habit. 'Cause I live alone..." You shifted your eyes. "No one... to talk to."

Yoongi stared at you. 

You turned around abruptly and grabbed a knife. Took off the pan lid. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious smell of eggs and kimchi. The cheese bubbled as you cut it into pizza-like slices.

Yoongi sat down at the barstool, staring at it. He was the one who usually cooked. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal by someone else in forever. Not since he lived with his parents. 

That was a long time ago. 

"I seasoned the eggs beforehand and poured it on the sautéed kimchi..." You placed a plate with a pair of chopsticks in front of him, ears still red. You avoided looking him in the eye, scratching your cheek. "I, uh, have to go grocery shopping," you mumbled, taking a slice. "Sorry it's not that fancy..."

Yoongi picked up the chopsticks and took a slice. He blew in it carefully and took a small bite. Spicy, savory, delicious. He took another bite. And another. The food was hot, almost burning the roof of his mouth. This must be a dream. He wasn't in his nightmare. He wasn't going to question it. 

As long as he wasn't in his nightmare, he could pretend this was reality. 

Yoongi didn't notice you watching him with relief. 

He took another slice. The meal was quiet, but not suffocatingly so. It was calm, only interrupted by chewing. You reached into the cabinet below you and produced a water bottle. Put it next to him. Didn't say anything. Yoongi are three more slices, throat prickling with the spice, lips puffy, before he opened the water bottle and drank from it.

"If you want, I can direct you to a shelter."

Yoongi put the water bottle down. Stared at his stained, now empty plate. 

"Or you can call a friend to shelter you," you continued. "You can even get a restraining order if we involve the police–"

"No."

He said the word with harsh finality. 

"It's not that bad."

It wasn't. He was just being a child, running away. 

"... Okay."

Yoongi looked up. For a split second, there was immense pain in your eyes. Why? None of this was happening to you. You didn't know anything. You were just some stranger. Why was he even here? Why had he come here to sleep on some random couch? So dumb. Some random woman couldn't save him from his problems. 

... Your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example...

Yoongi stilled as he remembered your words from last night. That was far too specific. His brows furrowed. You let out a sigh and took his plate.

"Do you want a shower?" you asked. "I have spare towels."

Yoongi tilted his head. "I don't have a change of clothes." He stared at the hardwood floor. "And my other clothes are probably burned by now."

You placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them. 

"We can go buy some. I need groceries anyway."

He didn't understand why you were being so nice to him. It was strange. You didn't know him. Well, actually... he didn't even know your name either. 

"Uh..."

You looked up from the dishes, hands covered in soap. Yoongi did all the dishes at home. He did all the housework, in fact. This was weird, watching another person do housework. His voice was quiet, timid, crumpled like a piece of paper. 

"What's your name?" 

-

"Do you want white or black?"

You held up two multi-packs of t-shirts in his size.

"Uh... Black."

You dumped the black in the cart and put the other back. Yoongi stayed behind you, not picking out anything. You were wearing your backpack, a black cap, red wide-knit sweater, and black jeans. Black combat boots, the familiar staple for you. The two of you are standing in an aisle at the local convenience store. Yoongi was still wearing the same clothes from last night – black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black face mask. 

He mostly stared at the floor, following your boots. 

"White or black?"

Yoongi looked up to see you on the other side of the cart, holding two multi-packs of underwear. White briefs and black boxer briefs. He felt his cheeks heat up as you blinked at him. Instead of speaking, he grabbed the black boxer briefs from your hand, intending to chuck them into the cart.

Except his jacket sleeve caught a strand of your red sweater, the Velcro sticking to and unraveling it, so that when he twisted his hand to throw the plastic pack into the cart, the yarn tangled around his fingers and got caught, rapidly getting pulled around. Your eyes widened, gasping as the red string was yanked from your sweater. 

"O-oh!"

"Fuck!"

His hand was tangled in it and the part around your wrist tightened, the missing yarn causing the constriction. Yoongi cursed again, trying to shake free, panic rising. Oh no, fuck, what if you got angry? What if you started yelling at–?

You laughed. 

You started laughing. Yoongi froze, slowly lifting his head to witness your laughter. Your shoulders shook, shaking your head, big smile on your face. The yarn hung in the air, shaking a little.

The red string connecting you to him. 

Yoongi stared. 

At you.

His heart thudded in his chest. 

Thump. 

"Hold on," you chortled, reaching over and following the red yarn.

Thump.

His heart was like a bass drum. Consistent and loud, rhythm in his own ears. You untangled the mess slowly, carefully, wrapping the exposed end loosely around your wrist. Finally, it was off his fingers. Your fingers were centimeters from the back of his hand. You grasped the red yarn tightly. Yoongi looked at the end, trapped in the Velcro of his parka.

Thump. 

A fleeting feeling. 

Happiness.

You ripped the red yarn off, the end frizzy and scraggly. 

Another fluttering feeling. 

Sadness. 

You backed up, going back to the cart, tucking the end in next to your wrist, all chuckles. Thump, thump, thump. He couldn't breathe. It was impossible. What was going on? Why did he suddenly start shaking all over?

"I'm sorry," he blurted, breathless in panic. 

You shook your head, waving a hand. 

"Don't worry about it. This thing is old anyway." You pointed to the rack. "Is four enough? Or do you need more?"

"U-uh..."

"Let's get one more. I can always return it if you change your mind."

-

"Do you have a job to go to? Because I have to go soon," you were saying as you shoved the groceries into the fridge. Yoongi was unwrapping the plastic and cutting off the tags from the few clothing items you two had bought. 

"Um... yeah, I work at a music studio..." Yoongi mumbled. "I make my own hours."

"And it ends right before the last train, right?" you affirmed, nearly dropping the green onions and making a mad dash for them before they touched the ground. Whew. You shoved them back in your fridge. You didn’t really have an organization system. You probably should. Being an adult was hard.

"... Yeah."

"Cool, you should take a shower now then. I'll get a towel, hold on!"

You scrambled out of the kitchen to find a towel in the linen closet, the fridge door still open. 

"... Alright..."

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi spent the entire train ride tense. You sat in your usual spot, humming along, bobbing your head to your music in your earbuds. Neither of you attempted to sit next to the other. Yoongi fully expected his girlfriend to be there as he stepped out of the train, at the last stop. He thought he was going to get yelled at once again. He thought she would be there to smack him upside the head again. He braced himself as the doors opened, exhaling deeply as he walked out of the sliding doors.

"Ugh, I need some energy," you mumbled behind him, yawning. 

No one was there. 

The bright streetlamps only illuminated the concrete. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

He turned his head to see you tilting yours. 

"You coming?"

You bounced on your heels. He remembered your usual routine. 

"Wanna race?" you asked with a big grin. 

-

Morning. Night. Morning. Night. 

Empty station at the last stop. No one but you and him getting off. 

Morning. Night. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

Morning. 

"You coming?"

Night. 

“Wanna race?”

Repeat.

The cassette tape replayed over and over, flipped around in the stereo, day in, day out, stuck on replay, a weird reality that wasn't his until it became his, seeing your face when he woke up, watching you cook breakfast in the morning, chastising inanimate objects when you thought he wasn't looking.

Your lips asking him once again. 

"You coming?"

Then you and him, breaking out into a run, racing to your apartment. 

At first, Yoongi didn't smile. 

Then one day, he did. 

And he kept smiling, smiling as he ran breathlessly with you. 

-

"What are you doing?"

You froze. 

Literally one second before you heard those words, you had been wiggling your arms like an octopus in front on your full-length mirror, flapping the long sleeves of your over-sized blue sweatshirt, your billowy knee-length gray shorts following suit. You reached up to your Bluetooth headphones to take them off.

And realized, with heated cheeks, that the music was not coming from your headphones, but the Bluetooth speakers on your desk, blaring the odd twangs of guitar and quirky drum beats, paired with whiny, almost nonsensical lyrics. 

You turned around. 

Yoongi stood at the entrance of your bedroom door, staring. He was wearing a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants that were slightly too short, exposing his pale ankles. 

The song went into the guitar solo. 

He blinked at you. 

"Uh... dancing?"

Blink. 

Normally after work, Yoongi would either be asleep or watching television in your living room. You told him cable came with the apartment and you never watched TV, so he should at least watch some in your stead. You usually went to your room. The first couple nights, you only danced in your chair. Then you got up and danced next to your desk, and then you were back to your wacky mirror dancing, thinking that if it was though headphones, then Yoongi wouldn't notice. 

But, of course, you had disturbed him with your music blasting through the speakers, which had never been disconnected all this time because, well, how were you supposed to know? They must have connected because your over-ear headphones died.

"That was dancing?" Yoongi echoed.

Your eyes shifted. "Er... it's stress relieving?"

Yoongi stared at you.

Blink. 

The song changed. One of your favorites. 

Your shoulders began to bounce. Your head tapped to the beat. Then your heel. 

Blink. 

"Are you possessed?" Yoongi asked with a deadpan look. 

The tune was getting to the good bit with the xylophone. Fuck it. He had already seen you octopus it up. You began to bob your head from side to side, breaking out to a big grin, shooting him some finger guns before going back to your full-body jiggle and arm flapping, singing along on the top of your lungs, prancing around your room, Yoongi staring at you the entire time in mild shock. He probably thought you were psychotic, but who cared, because you were clapping along to the snare drum, skipping in circles, pointing at him at certain parts in the lyrics and playing air guitar. 

His normally downcast cat-like eyes were huge.

You grabbed his hands at the guitar solo and he yelped, his arms rippling as you swung them around, you stumbling through the lyrics, singing the absurd words, and Yoongi gawking wide-eyed.

The song went to the final chorus and you wiggled like a fucking squid. 

Only to see Yoongi burst out laughing and wiggle his arms with you, tiny wiggles compared to your full-blown tentacle swings, but it made you laugh too, because it was all stupid and ridiculous and very embarrassing. 

With a start, you realized you had seen Yoongi laugh. 

And he looked so wonderful laughing, perfect teeth and pink gums, huge smile and scrunched-up face, black hair falling back from the strength of his chuckling, revealing his lovely fair-skinned features and those cat-like eyes sparkling.

Sparkling with brightness. 

The song ended and you were panting breathlessly.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in disbelief, half-smirk on his lips. 

"Your music taste is nuts."

You smiled as the next song started. 

"Nah, this is just my nighttime dance party music. It's supposed to be crazy."

You flapped your sleeves to the beat of the drum. Grinned at him. 

"Because every night should be a dance party."

And you started dancing again, Yoongi watching you and laughing, even joining in sometimes. 

From then on, every night was a dance party. At one point, Yoongi started to bring you songs and weird beats he discovered for you to dance to. He even said a few times, "Hey, I made this. Can you make a dance from it?"

You'd dance to anything. 

You weren't great at it. 

But it was always hilarious. 

And it was always worth it, watching Yoongi laugh all night. 

-

Pause. 

Fast forward. 

Wait. Are you sure?

You can always rewind. 

You don't have to press play. 

Pause.

Play. 

-

“Do you like rap?”

You were sitting next to Min Yoongi on the night train. There were still people around, not yet the last stop. He was clutching his phone, face mask on his chin. He looked a little nervous.

“Yeah, of course. I like all music,” you said cheerfully. “Something you want me to dance to?”

Yoongi chuckled a little, giving you that little half-smirk. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a… music producer. And I… I make music. And I wondered if you wanted to listen to a little bit my mixtape.”

“I do.”

Yoongi looked taken aback. You grinned.

“I definitely want to listen to it.”

You connected your earbuds to his phone and listened carefully. His words, his beat, his rhythm. Yoongi sat beside you, wrapped in his black parka, looking nervous as he chewed on his lip, but you didn’t notice, bobbing your head to certain bits, mouthing the chorus, raising your eyebrows as he altered the framework of a traditional song. He had only five tracks on the playlist, but you listened to them all, holding his phone. When the playlist ended, you clicked back to your favorite parts and replayed them, over and over, listening to his strong, raspy voice.

Yoongi sounded confident when he was rapping.

Like he was meant to do it, perfectly expressing himself with his simple words and elegant phrasing, his anger, his sorrow, his hopes. You could tell there was an underlying theme, an uncertainty about the future. As if he was taking steps to an invisible, unlit path, and he wasn’t sure whether to run forward without a guiding light or go back to all he knew.

You handed him back his phone with a smile. You understood him a little better now.

“Well?” he asked, still biting his lip.

“I really like it,” you said. “Especially your vocals. It’s different from other voices I’ve heard.”

“… It’s not that–”

“And I like your lyrics. They’re simple, but they pack a punch and make you think.” You smiled widely. “I like music that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. That’s how your rap makes me feel.”

Yoongi looked stunned.

You pointed to his phone. “You could release it just like this, if you wanted.” You tilted your head. “Hm, maybe a few more songs though. It seems like you’re trying to tell a story.”

He blinked rapidly, putting his phone in his pocket. “Y-Yeah… I’m working on a few more that I want to add.”

You nodded. “That’d be awesome.”

The train screeched to a halt. There was no one in the car. That was your cue. You stood, stretching first and then shouldering your backpack. Yoongi stood as well, pensive and silent. The train doors slid open. He walked out first and you followed. Streetlights harsh and bright on the concrete. Yoongi did his usual routine of looking to the edge of the train station.

Both of you froze.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

You recognized her. She might be wearing a different dress and a different coat, but it was the same woman all right, with the same harsh scowl.

“I knew you wouldn’t be a man and face the music. Instead, you went off prancing with some whore.”

“She’s not a whore,” Yoongi muttered, pulling up his face mask.

You didn’t say anything. There was a sudden pressure on your chest, an overwhelming, tense heaviness, because you knew what was coming.

“Are you telling me that you’re not going to come home to the woman you supposedly love, the one you were supposedly going to marry and give a comfortable life to?” the woman accused. “Are you telling me that you can’t take responsibility for your actions? That you’re not a man, but a child?”

Yoongi took a step towards her.

The weight in your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing you.

Another step.

“Yoongi.”

He turned his head, dark brown eyes flickering to you.

You smiled.

Smiled even though the moment was killing you.

“I… I have to finish this,” he mumbled, the sparkle in his eyes dulling with every passing second.

You kept the bright smile on your face.

Like a cheerful-sounding song with sad lyrics.

“Okay.”

Pause.

You wanted to rewind. You wanted to rewind so bad, even if it was only to ten minutes before this painful moment. With a shaking hand, you pressed play.

“My door is always open for you, Yoongi.”

He made eye contact with you. He nodded.

“Goodbye.”

You turned and ran.

Ran and ran, hoping he was running after you, but you knew he wasn’t, you knew he was walking towards that toxic woman and you could do nothing about it, you couldn’t care, you just had to keep running, running and running until you hit your front door, fumbling with your keys and running inside, slamming the door closed.

You froze.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you ran to your room and threw up a specific playlist, a playlist full of cheerful-sounding songs with agonizing lyrics, hopeful beats tainted by upsetting words, and danced the night away, danced and danced. Not wanting to think about the blankets on the couch, the suitcase you had dragged out to let Yoongi borrow and put his clothes in, not wanting to think about his toothbrush on your bathroom sink, not wanting to think about all those nights dancing stupidly in this bedroom with him, and focusing only on dancing alone, singing the night away, on and on and on until you couldn’t stand anymore, couldn’t sing anymore, and you just fell on your bed and passed out, completely drained.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Empty.

-

3.

--

masterpost

[owaowabetch]

Minecraft Part 2 (Sykkuno x F!Reader)

Oneshot (maybe part of a series??? at this point probs): Chaos in the server, Will a deal entice you to become part of the comfy cartel? Or will you resist the temptation of the deal and side with the resistance? Friendship and a lil romance (oohhh things are starting to heat up)

Warning:Non beta (cuz we baddies purr); part of Uh-oh & Impasta

You had been streaming Minecraft for about 4 hours when you decided to end it for a small meal break. Though ending stream didn’t stop you from continuing playing with your friends. Unfortunately, Sykkuno had not been on while you were streaming, since you did so quite earlier than usual, but you wanted to remodel your minecraft home; turning the once pink wooden home to a white quartz block using the obscene amount of quartz that Jae gifted you as to entice you to join his faction in the sever. It was a nice bribe gift, but you have yet to align yourself with the ressistance or the comfy cartel. 

So, while gettin gifted quartz blocks was nice, hearing that Toast gave Lily a gun enticed you more.But you doubt Toast’s whole character arc will entrust you with one. You maybe be living with his ‘right-hand’ man, but he seems to be slowly on a downward spiral. Kind of like a crazy wacky scientist- he’s doofenshmirtz. 

Anyways you had completed the finishing touches on your remodeled, when you saw in the little chat that Sykkuno was on. “ OH!OH!OH! SYKKUNO!”

You were excited to show him the newly made house. The house was three levels to your house, but you’re mostly wanna show him the basement area.

You saw the iconic teal shirt paired with the green stripped scarf boxy figure making their way towards you. You emoted the cheering pose and happily called out to him “Hi Sykkuno!” 

“Hey, Y/n!” He cheered back coming closer “I have something for you!” 

You start jumping up and down “Present!” You like getting free things, especially if it comes from someone you like....as a friend of course. Yup yup, just as a friend. As, he stood in front of you he laughed “What are you doing?” watching your character wave their arms around

You laughed back at him “Just happy to see you!”

“Well, I’m always happy to see you!” Sykkuno chirps out and adds on with a slight stutter “C-cause we’re friends! I’m always happy to see such a great friend!”

Feeling the high of him telling you how he was always happy to see you was crushed by him reminding you that friends is all that you both may only ever be. So with the disappointment lingering and the excitement wearing off, you just mutter a reply back. “Yes! The bestest of friends!”

“Yup, yup. Anyways have some water mills” He throws some black blocks with blue markings on them “Follow me!” You both ran near your home “Claim this bit of land” and you did so. “Now, dig like a 3 by 6 hole and place two water mills close to each corner and one in the middle bottom”(1). You followed his instructions “Ok, so im just gunna place the water” You watched him do so “Ok! I think it’s all good and ready to go!”

You crouch and inch around the hole “What is it?”

“Ok well you know how I got you that green lasso that has you swinging and jumping all over the place with the slime boots?” Sykkuno asks crounching up right beside you 

“Yea yea!” You crouch and uncrouch in circles around him

“Well I have something even better!” He cheers “Eh” he grunts and throws a ring on the floor. You awe and oh as you put the ring in your hot bar “How cute! It has little wings on it!” 

“Yea! It’s a special ring” Sykkuno tells you 

“Special ring?...Are you proposing to me! OMG Sykkuno” You joke 

“Wah?” Spluttering out in confusion but deciding to play along “I mean are you accepting?”

You laugh “Woah, Sy! How bold of you sir”

He giggles back to you before teaching you how and where to put the ring. “OK do you have it on?”

You jump up and down in response allowing the slime boots to spring you up higher. “Yup Yup”

“Ok so, why don’t you take off your slime boots and then press the space bar” He jumps up and down, which you do. You gasp as you are lifted into the air “Sy! Look! Im flying!!” He is in the air next to you “I can see! Cause I am also flying!”

“How are we doing this! This is so fucking cool!” You laugh as you start moving around in the air “WAIT! Are you streaming? I’m so sorry!”

He laughs as he starts following you around in the air “It’s fine, but the ring I gave you is an angel ring. As long as your wearing it, then you can just fly around”

“Wow! Thanks Sykkuno!” You cheer and you walk around in the air “Clean! Clean!” 

“Yea, Of Course! It’ll be alot easier for you to get to places faster” He explains once more “Now, my chat has been going crazy and telling me that you redid our house?”

Excitement lit through you as you were ready to show him the remodeling works that you’ve done “Yes! I did! I’m so excited to show you” You move your camera out of first person and notice your character wearing a pair of white wings on your back “Oh my god! Sykkuno! I didn’t know that there was actual wings that appear on your lil person!”

“uh yea! I didn’t know if you wanted to have or not, cause mine are invisible” Sykkuno says flying next to you as you make the short distance back to your home “but i remembered you saying that you wanted to buy fairy wings. I could’ve made them pink to look like them, but i thought the white ones would suit you better”

“Cause i’m such an angel?” You tease as you reached your front door

“Well uh you are um a nice person” Hearing the shyness in his tone made you think that he was being sincere and it made you blush “Thank you Sykkuno, you’re one of the best people i know!”

He clears his throat “uh well um, look we made it!” trying to divert the conversation away from the compliments. You made a mental note to yourself to compliment him more, so that his confidence rises up and he no longer shies away from them.

“Yup!” You open the door “come on in!” He oh’ed as he came in, seeing the kitchen area first “As you can see Sy and chat, I have created a kitchen with actual fucking oven and fridge! How crazy is that! These mods are cool!”

“So, yeah! Kitchen area, though I doubt we’ll use it” You comment

“Wow! a fridge! Neat!” He opened the fridge and looked at the decor of other kitchen appliances 

You laugh at his wording “ Yup! and this is our living room slash library” leading him further into the house and showing him the sitting area with a bunch of bookcases surrounding the fake chairs “and right next to this is the ‘dining room’ where more seats were placed with a table and a cute flower in a pot atop the table. “So, yea this is the first floor!” 

“This is cool! Oh! it’s [y/f/flower] on the table” He notes and you nod feeling your cheeks flush a bit before admitting “of course! It’s actually the flower you gave me on our first day...”

“thats, thats really cool that you kept it” Sykkuno replies and there is a bit of silence between the two of you. Not awkward but almost in a content kind of way. Peaceful if you will. 

“Ok! Now lets head upstairs! It’s where we sleep!” You say walking up the stairs showing him the green beds placed next to each other “I didn’t know if you wanted to sleep next to each other again, but i did it anyways lol” 

He walked around the room and admired the little decor spread around the walls and opened chests in the room. He laughed awkwardly “it’s fine, it’s just a respawn point so its no biggie!”

“Yea to sleepovers!” You cheer 

Clearing his throat he noted how much he liked the room, causing you to smile and thank him “But i know what you’ve been wanting to see the most!”

“What do you mean?” He questioned and looked at you 

“The basement! Dun Dun DUN!” You jump at him scooting him down the stairs

He laughed in disbelief “What was that? Did you just hit me?”

“Nope” Emphasizing the p “ I just jumped at you which caused you to go down the stairs! I could never hurt you Sy!”

“Well I could never hurt you too” He mutters back and you pouted at how cute his response was

“Oh! You could just make your way down there! I forgot that Jae wanted me to give him some quartz back!” You gasp remembering what Jae had told you

“What do you mean?” His character looks back at you

And you look back at his and think “hmmm I don’t know if I should snitch or not, but Jae gave me an obsence amount of quartz blocks to build the house! I knew it was a little hard for you to get some, so he offered to give me some”

He hummed back “I see....” 

You noted how the atmosphere tensed for a split moment until Sykkuno happily noted that it was nice of him to give you something he couldn’t, but it sounded a bit off to you. Though you didn’t pay much attention to that since you didn’t want to reveal the resistance, as you have yet to align yourself with any of the two factions, well soon to be three since you believe that Sydney is doing some witchy stuff.

“Well, why don’t you go do that while I check the basement and give something to toast really quick!” He tells you 

“Ok!” You reply back to him rifling through your chests to find the remaining the blocks to give to Jae “I’ll see you in a bit, maybe toast too!”

With that you made your way back to Jae to hand him the quartz back, though it was quite an ordeal since he made a whole rant on how evil the comfy cartel were and how you should join them and become a spy cause apparently Toast is planning on doing something that could affect the entire server....

So you just ignored all of that and made your way back home, to have Toast and Sykkuno greet you at the front door.

“Hey guys! Im back” You cheer at them

“What did Jae want huh?!?!” Toast immediately questions you “Did you tell him any of our business huh? Should we be trusting you huh? huh? HUH!?!”

“Whoa Toast” You back up as he was getting all up in your face

“Wow Toast, are you okay?” Sykkuno places himself between you two 

“Im doing just fine” Toast answers back and you notice his full gear armor “Just wanted to know if we have a rat here”

You tsk “wow Toast, I see how it is. I see. By the way you look like a Power Rangers villan, just sayin”

He takes out his gun and points it at you “Well you won’t be sayin much Motherfucka!”

“I won’t say anything at all if you give me a gun to join the comfy cartel” You hit Sykkuno away and hear him utter an ow “Cause I don’t have an allegiance with anyone at the moment. So I’m a free agent and I can talk to whoever whenever” Throwing his words back at him and implying that you can speak to anyone without repercussions.

“AH right you are not part of the comfy cartel yet” He nods to himself “Well I wont give you a gun to join the group cause frankly I know that you’ll just shoot me”

You sigh “Then i’-”

“Instead!” He interrupts you “I’ll give you something better!” 

You pout “but i wanna cap a bitch”

“Instead of cappin’ you’ll be rackin’ cause you’re gunna have to collect taxes from people and in exchange you get the left hand of my right hand” He moves closer to you, that statement throw you through a loop ‘left hand?right hand?’. You were confusion. “Capiche?”

“What do you mean?” You question and he evil laughs and hits sykkuno.

“Wha? What was that Toast” Sykkuno also confused as to why Toast hit him and what Toast meant.

“I’m saying that you can have Sykkuno!” He evil laughs once more 

Sykkuno splutters “Wha? What do you mean Toast?!?!”

You were shocked at what he said. Giving you Sykkuno? “What do you mean?”

“You can marry Sykkuno” He repeats himself once more “You are both important to each other, why else live together? This way I’m keeping you both in check” and once again with the evil laughter

‘I’m glad im not streaming otherwise some of the more entitled fangirls would 100% send hate comments to me’ you think to yourself

You hum “Will I still get a gun?”

“Only if you can become my number one marksmen and execute the people I tell you too” He offers you

“Deal” You nod to yourself 

“Wha? [Y/N]?” Sykkuno sputters out “You’re ok with this?” and nodding to yourself you reply with a yes and asks him if he is also “Well I- uh I” he continues to laugh awkwardly “I mean uh sure?”

“Neat!” You reply throwing a diamond at him “Here’s your dowry lol”

Though before another conversation could happen Toast butts in once more “This was a test and you both passed” and throws a gun at you “Here take this one, prove yourself and I’ll get you a better one”

You put the gun in your hot bar and place it in your hand. “Clean!” You start point it in different directions “Thanks! Toast!”

“Don’t betray me or else you gets the hose!” He starts walking backwards then comes back up to you “Oh, also your target is Leslie, be sure to collect her taxes before killing her.” Walking backwards once more before coming back “Oh Sykkuno hand me the diamond [y/n] gave you.” He does so “Ok that’ll be your last tax payment until I have you look for materials for a special project” He evil laughs as he flies away

“OK! Great talk!” You call out and emote the happy one, with your arms lifted up and shaking about “Awesome! I get a gun muahahahaha!”

You hear Sykkuno clear his throat “so uh, you were ok with marrying me?”

“Yea! so were you!” You say as you move you camera around trying to find a good angle to see it properly

“Because you were!” He replies back and that took you aback a bit as you didn’t realize how uncomfortable it may have been for him.

“Well you didn’t have too if you didn’t want to” You felt a bit embarrassed at the fact that he did it because you wanted to but not he himself personally

“Wha, well I didn’t think you were being serious” Once again laughing awkwardly “Cause you know girls aren’t in- OW”

You shot him with the gun in annoyance.

‘Bitches are into you Sykkuno’ You screamed in your head ‘I‘M BITCHES!’

 Author’s Note:

Side Note 1 - I dont know if this is correct lol

No cap but i had written half of this like 3 days after writing Part 1 but I got lazy lmao sorry! Also this is gunna be a slowburn story cuz lets be real our smol bean and all of our asses are awkward as hell and kind insecure in the romantic aspect, so realistically it would not be fast paced.

So here it is Minecraft pt.2/4

Tags: @sushiims

[loving-all-for-loki]

Chapter 5: Dangers of love

Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3273

Warnings: graphic description of injury, swearing

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @magicalpieex @lokiyoulittle @daddysfavoritesexkitten @buckylokisimp

A/N: Okay, so I got a little carried away with this chapter because things are heated! We got some Bucky vs Loki conflict as well as hurt Bucky. It’s time to spice some things up in this love story.

“We need you! Bucky got hurt and may not live! We need you to save him!”

Panic begins to set in as you scramble to get off of Loki. You run towards Sam who’s eyes still dart between you and Loki who is laying on the floor, face covered in a disappointed appearance. Sam grabs your hand and pulls you toward the Quinjet, running as fast as you can.

Loki lays on the ground and watches you run off with Sam. The feeling of your body on top of him lingers and his eyes miss the sight of you. He knows Bucky is hurt and your job is to heal, but he can’t help but feel jealous. You at their beckoning call. Pulling you away from him. He wanted to keep you there on top of him… forever, but Bucky once again steals you from him. Loki finds his way to his bedroom, saddened by your sudden absence and filing his time with something else.

You and Sam rush in the Quinjet as the door starts to close. You sit down and stare at the floor, dreading the sight that is about to be in front of you, as Sam rushes to get some basic gear to cover you. He straps on a helmet and a bullet proof vest to you in a frantic manner, struggling to clasp the buckles. His hands are shaking, so you place yours on his, forcing him to look at you. You give him a look of comfort, yet control. His anxiety melts at the calm fear in your eyes, knowing you’re just as scared but determined.

After 1 agonizing hour, you land in some unknown desert country filled by tents and soldiers. Sam grabs your wrist and starts sprinting to a broken and abandoned building surrounded by American soldiers. Steve stands at the door waiting for you. Stress blows off of him as he sees Sam dragging you behind him. 

“Hurry, he’s barely holding on!” Steve yells.

The three of you enter the building and rush to the second floor where Natasha is leaning over Bucky, putting pressure on the wound. 

“Two bullets below the heart and one to the left. They barely missed, but he’s bleeding out like a bitch. There was also a large boulder on him so I’m sure there’s internal damage,” she informs.

You drop to your knees and lean over Bucky. He looks up to you, face full of pain and desperation. Even in his own demise, he gives you a smile and warm eyes. You shake your head at him, You’re not supposed to die you idiot, you thought. Taking Natasha’s hands, you force her to push on his bullet wound harder, implying she isn’t putting enough pressure on it. Steve and Sam stand behind you panicking, but informing the rest of the team through the intercom. 

“Yeah, she’s here… I’m not sure… let’s hope,” Steve mutters.

-

Earlier…

Bullets are flying through the air as Bucky attempts to run around. Their camp was attacked late last night when no one was prepared and the battle has been going on for hours. No one was sure where it came from at first, all that they did know is that they’re surrounded and out manned.

Steve and Bucky started running first, trying to get to the general and end things, but as buildings started to fall down, things got harder. Soldiers were getting trampled, crushed, hit. Rocks were flying everywhere within the rubble falling.

Bucky loses track of Steve, the two getting split up somewhere about ten minutes ago. Leaning against a large chunk of wall, Bucky sits and regains his breath. He looks over the wall seeing that no one is near him. After all of this fighting, Bucky prays they’ll be taken home finally, knowing the opposing enemy is almost out of tricks considering they did a surprise attack.

He can’t wait to get home. He can’t wait to feel you jump in his arms, lay on him as you read, lean your head on his shoulder when you can’t stay awake during a movie. Two weeks is too long to go without you after spending every day together for a while. He started getting antsy to see her three days ago. Knowing he can’t stay in his location forever, Bucky starts to get up and dash.

“Bucky, look up.” Steve says over the head set.

Bucky looks in front of him to see Steve hiding behind one of their trucks looking over by him.

“To the left, there are three soldiers, go the opposite direction and they won’t see you at all.”

Bucky nods to him and takes a deep breath. Turning to his right, Bucky stands and starts to sprint. Gunshots go off and completely drown out Steve yelling “to my left, not yours!”. He barely takes a step before feeling an awful pain in his shoulder. 

In slow motion, Bucky feels himself slip and get pushed down by an invisible force. Another burst of pain hits below the first one and one to his other shoulder. His vision goes blurry as he falls, his back slamming into little rocks and pebbles. Hitting his head on the ground, everything goes dark.

Steve watches as his best friend gets shot three times. Fear settles in as he sprints over to Bucky, but the enemy sees him running. Quickly, they shoot the corner of the building next to them, sending shards down around Bucky’ unconscious body. Steve stops and blocks his face from the oncoming rubble, panicking about losing Bucky in the dust.

“Everyone, Bucky’s down! I need back up!” The dust settles and Steve sprints to Bucky and looks down, “Wake up, Buck. Come on.”

Steve takes Bucky by his shoulders before realizing the bullet holes beneath his thumbs. He wildly lets go of Bucky as he stares at the open wound. Blood gushes out of Bucky as he lies in the sand. 

Next thing Steve knows, there are S.H.I.E.L.D agents surrounding him with their shields and Natasha is joining him on the ground. Natasha carefully picks up Bucky’s shoulders as Steve grabs his ankles. They attempt to drag him to the building when they notice opposing men in the main floor.

“Someone clear the building for us! We need to get him to safety!” Steve yells over the intercoms.

“I got you.”

Tony flies over in his suit, shooting down the men in the building and around the perimeters as Steve and Natasha drag Bucky inside. 

“We’ve got him secured, but we need someone quick before we lose him!”

“Steve, doesn’t Y/N have healing powers?” Tony inquires.

“Holy crap, yes. Sam! Get to the Quinjet fast, we need Y/N!” 

“Copy that.”

Sam sprints to the Quinjet with adrenaline bouncing through his veins. 

“I need someone to watch the building as we wait,” Steve orders, “Nat, put pressure on the wounds, I’m going out to defend for a moment.”

“Will do.”

Steve rushes out of the building to find the agents from earlier setting up a temporary barricade. Thor runs over out of breath and covers for them. Steve watches Sam running back, praying that he can get there in time with Y/N to help Bucky, but for now they have to keep fighting.

-

Steve watches as you stare at Bucky, praying that you know what you are doing. He can see the panic in your eyes as you look down at Bucky. He knows that fear. It’s doubt. It’s the same doubt he felt when he was first in charge of a mission. The tears start coming in your eyes as you look up to Steve.

“You’ve got this,” he comforts, “I know you do.”

You look over to Natasha and nod for her to let go of the wounds. She quickly pushes herself away as you take control. Putting pressure onto the wounds, you close your eyes and focus. You feel the powers surging through your body and pouring into Bucky.

Steve and Natasha stare at you in awe. Light emerges from your body, surrounding you and Bucky, but not blinding them. You look so graceful as you pour your heart and soul into him. The blood starts clotting as it comes out before it stops all together, but as it stops, they watch as the light from you slowly flickers. You start to wobble over his body, looking more tired as you go on.

“Is it working?” Sam asks.

“I think so, but somethings wrong.” Steve answers.

Steve rushes to your side, holding you up from the back as you start to fall over. You start to get light headed as you pour all of your energy into Bucky. Opening your eyes for one second, you see the wounds not closing up between your fingers. They’re too deep for you to comfortably heal. 

You take your hands off of Bucky for a second to lean back. Steve catches you as your arms barely keep your body up as Natasha rushes over back by Bucky, applying pressure again but not as much.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks.

You lift your hand to shake it, signaling you're fine before holding up your index to signal that you need one moment. Steve holds you tight, almost laying you across his lap. He looks over to Sam who’s staring at you. 

“It’s like she ran out of energy,” Steve comments.

“It might be too much for her. I think we have to pull back and go home.”

“Sam, you know how much I love Bucky, but we’re so close to finishing this.”

“I can contact Fury or Coulson and see if we can get sent back, the rest of the soldiers can stay here and fight until called.”

“Then do it.”

Sam furiously runs back to the Quinjet to get a better signal, hoping they’ll be able to take Bucky back home. Steve looks down at your tired body sprawled across him. You start to waken a little bit more, looking over to Bucky in determination.

“Wait, Y/N. Do you think it’s a good idea to-”

You ignore Steve as you push Natasha off of Bucky. You get up on your knees before taking Bucky again and emptying all your energy. The brightest light Steve and Nat have ever seen comes out of nowhere, shining from your body. 

People describe a terrifying event that their “soul had left their body”, but you literally feel every fiber in your body get drained. You lose breath, surrendering everything you have in you. Bucky starts to stir, coughing as he gains consciousness. Steve rushes to his side and holds his head up. Shielding his eyes, Steve sees your eyes go completely white, glowing as if the sun had entered you. Your face has gone blank as you black out, losing yourself in healing Bucky.

Nat runs to your side as the light disappears at once. You fall over as she catches you, trying to keep you from hitting your head on the ground. There’s silence in the building as Nat and Steve attempt to get both you and Bucky up before Sam stumbles in.

“We can go back! What happene-”

“No time to explain,” Steve interrupts, “Avengers, fall back. We’re heading home immediately.”

The Avengers sprint back to the Quinjet. Sam carries you as Steve carries the limping Bucky back, setting you both down on the floor. Clint and Wanda run inside as see you and Bucky swapped appearances. Wanda starts asking a million questions that Nat tries to answer as they take off.

“Steve,” Bucky coughs, “what’s going on?” “We’re heading back to the compound. You were injured severely and Y/N saved your life.”

“But I thought she was back at the-”

“Sam got her after you got shot. She did everything she could.”

Steve nods over in your direction. Bucky looks over to see you passed out on the ground, Natasha and Sam tending to you. He starts to panic at the sight of your paralyzed body lays next to him.

“Bucky, you have to hold still. Your wounds are still-”

“No, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Bucky, calm down!”

Bucky whips his head to look at Steve who’s frantically trying to keep him on the ground in a sederatary fashion. 

“I can’t Steve. Is she alive?”

“She’s fine. You need to worry about yourself. She’s tired.”

“You promise?”

Bucky searches for an answer in Steve's eyes, but he knows Steve can’t promise that. No one really knows if you’re okay. There’s a tense silence throughout the quinjet as it flies home.

Loki hears the engine of the quinjet as it lands. He rushes off the couch to stand at the tower’s bridge doors, watching it land. As the door opens, he hurriedly walks onto the bridge looking around each Avenger as they walk out to see you. Steve and Tony stop when they see the writings on Loki’s body, recognizing your handwriting from the notes on Bucky’s arms.

“What the-” Tony mutters.

“Where is she?” Loki asks worriedly.

Sam steps off the quinjet carrying your body bridal style. Loki rushes to him as the other Avengers stare at him in awe. Laying his hand on your forehead, Loki reads your brain to find you asleep. He forces you awake with his magic, having awakened in Sam’s arms. You look up to see Sam holding you and Loki next to you. Reaching out, Loki takes your limp body from Sam, carrying you to the med bay as the Avengers follow behind. Bucky watches as he leans on Steve’s shoulders, anger rising in his body from seeing Loki’s appearance and behavior towards you. Everyone glances at one another in disbelief of the sight in front of them.

You don’t remember falling asleep again, but you wake up in a bed in the med bay. Loki sits on a chair next to you asleep. By the looks of it, he hasn’t been able to sleep in a while. His hair is all distressed and there are bags forming under his eyes. You try to sit up before you feel a pounding headache start.

Loki wakes at the sound of you rustling around in the bed. He sees you gripping your forehead in pain.

“You’re awake. Careful, your body may still be weak,” he warns.

You smile at him for being so kind to you. Loki reaches for  a water bottle sitting on the stand beside your bed and a small container of pills. 

“Take these. I was told they would help.”

He hands you the little bottle of Advil and the water. You timidly take them from him and take one pill. Your hands are still shaking from how tired you are. Loki gives you a gentle smile, but you can see the sadness behind it. Your state of being concerns him, seeing how exhausted you are. “Are you feeling okay?”

You nod weakly with a smile, trying to comfort him, but you know until you have complete strength, nothing will make him feel better. The two of you sit silently for a moment before Loki gasps and pats down his pockets.

“I forgot… I have your pen.”

He hands you the ball point pen you use to write on him, which makes you smile. Why does he have this on him? You think.

“Just in case you need to tell me something you can’t sign.”

You look at him confused.

“I can read minds.”

All of the thoughts you’ve had about him run into his head. You freak out internally, wondering what all he had read.

“Don’t worry, I don’t read it often. In fact, this is the first time I’ve read your mind.”

He leans forward and sets his leg on your bed, pulling up on his pants to reveal his ankle.

Good.

Loki chuckles at you. He likes being able to talk to you, even if it’s through pen and skin. 

The Avengers sit outside your room, listening to Loki talk to you. They give each other quizzical looks as they hear Loki laugh.

“Do you think he’s torturing her?” Tony asks.

“Oh stop. Did you see the way he was covered in writing? They clearly bonded while we were done,” Nat points out.

“Oh they did more than bond.

Everyone looks at Sam, confused about his comment.

“When I came to get Y/N, I found her on top of Loki on the ground. She was laying on top of him and leaning over his face. It looked like they were about to make out or something.”

Bucky is fueled with rage at Sam’s description. Steve looks over to his friend to see Bucky’s hands in the tightest first he’s seen in a while. There is nothing but anger seeping through his eyes, jealous of the way Sam talks of the two. Bucky storms off towards the hallways before slamming his door closed. The team looks over to Steve worried, knowing Bucky has feelings for you.

Is Bucky okay?

“Yes, he is.” Loki’s heart drops. Even in your own pain and healing, you worry about Bucky. He forgot about your attachment to the solider due to his own growing feelings for you. “He’s alive and doing well, thanks to you. You’re a good person.”

It’s the right thing to do. I don’t like it when my friends die.

A little flutter of hope flickers in Loki’s mind when you refer to Busy as a friend. He knows that you have more of a relationship with Bucky than the others, but ‘friend’ gived him hope.

“Most people don’t like it when friends die, but I won’t lie dear, I’m surprised you consider him a friend.”

He knows what he’s doing by starting this conversation, but better to have his feelings squashed now then later when he’s ever more attached to you.

What do you mean?

“It just seems like you and him have a special bond.”

Like a dating bond?

“I suppose you could say that.”

No, we’re just friends. Besides, I like you.

Loki meets your eyes to see nothing but warmth and comfort. 

“I like you, too. You’re much more enjoyable than the others.”

-

The next day comes and you’ve gained more energy, enough to get out of bed. Feeling the cold floor on your feet for the first time sparks new joy and hope. You grab onto Loki’s arm, who hasn’t left the med bay since he brought you there. Slowly, the two of you shuffle out of the room and into the elevator. 

As the elevator opens us, the Avengers laying in the main room turn to see you weakly walking, clinging on to Loki as you move. He looks down at you with a proud smile across his face. Bucky watches from the kitchen with jealousy in his eyes. Steve gives him a warning look, not daring him to do anything. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Steve says sympathetically, “Are you feeling better?”

You nod with a smile which brings a smile to everyone’s face, except Bucky’s. When you spot him to your left, you notice the cold stoic face he gives you and the way he stares at Loki, his eyes burning holes at the writing on his fair skin.

“I’m taking her to my room so she can rest more,” Loki informs.

No one misses the way he says ‘my room’ and not ‘your room’ and they definitely don’t miss the way your hand slides from his biceps down his arm to tangle into his hand.

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.8)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] [CH.7] previous chapters

[CH.9] next chapter (now avaliable!)

You tiptoe yourself towards the room where detention was being held that lunch hour, not surprised to see a familiar face after Jaeyun's warning of Sunghoon or Heeseung being there. You clashed eyes with Sunghoon whose eyes flickered up and down at you like a light switch as you entered the room. Sunghoon's stone face would only vanish into the only other facial expression you've ever seen him give, a sinister smile.

"Have a seat... Y/N" Your gym teacher lowered her head, visibly more interested in the flyer she had in hand.

You took a slow gander at the other people in the room, a couple of recognizable lower classmen and duos of pranksters. Sunghoon stuck out like a sore thumb, remaining the centre of your attention. You willingly took up the vacant desk beside him at the very back where a few shadows lingered.

"Unexpected meeting." Sunghoon was subtle, speaking in a deep voice was just audible enough to be heard by you. You both didn't make eye contact as it would've made it obvious you were talking and God knows how many more detention sentences you'd be given for being caught chatting.

"Jaeyun told me you're here all the time, no surprises for me." You whispered while making yourself at home in your chair.

You blink in frustration as you realize if you had brought your physics textbook, you could've worked on the questions you hadn't done in class. You pull out some notes to study in the meantime, dreading the fact you were about to spend the next half hour wasting brain energy reviewing for a test you were getting quite confident with.

After using most of the detention time repeating your study terms, you peek over at Sunghoon who rested his head down on one of his arms that dangled off the front of his desk. You got the idea of passing notes to communicate with Sunghoon in the last 10 minutes of detention. Tearing off a medium-sized square of paper, you began to write in a sharp font:

hey, just wanted to ask if you're flirting with dahee or something?  rumour has it you already have a girlfriend... i won't tell anyone :-)

You fold the paper and carefully flick Sunghoon's shoulder, eyeing the teacher while you're at it out of caution. Sunghoon slowly lifted his face, squinting to adjust to the bright light before seeing the paper you held out for him. With a raised brow he grasped it between his thin fingertips, stretching it out of its crumpled form. You don't bother looking at his reaction and rather wait for him to write down a response in the empty spaces you left. Within a quick exchange, the folded paper was back in your possession with a couple of words written, his writing a lot smaller than you imagined.

since when did I have a girlfriend? and who says I'm flirting with dahee?

You obviously only pretended there was a rumour of Sunghoon having a girlfriend to avoid telling him the truth. From what you could recall, Sunghoon would "kill" Kyungeun if he found out what you saw. You weren't just going to throw Kyungeun under the bus and get her into trouble so here you were stuck thinking about your reply. Your pencil began to move once a response was in mind.

I saw it with my own eyes yesterday! something is up between you and dahee

Sunghoon took the paper right off your desk before you could fold it nicely as if he was reading as you wrote. This time he scribbled in loose and long lines as a way of communicating faster.

why does it matter? let me answer my own question, I know you saw me with Kyungeun

Your eyes went white, blinking in horror as you read the paper over and over. How could he have known you were there? You could've sworn it was too dim in the library that day.  It would also be practically impossible to identify anyone behind or even through the cracks from where Sunghoon was standing. The only answer would be Jaeyun then, right?

The teacher extended on knee down to push herself into a standing position "I'm going to the bathroom, there are only a few minutes left but I better see all of you still here and quiet when I get back."  The teacher left in a flash, probably doing her best to get back as quick as she could. But it didn't take more than 20 seconds before people broke the silence and started chatting it up with each other. You also took the absence of the teacher to speak.

You stood up in disbelief to interrogate Sunghoon, "Who told you I was there?" You looked around to make sure no one was watching while you moved in closer to Sunghoon.

"I could sense you there, behind the fiction bookshelves" He slumped back in his chair to observe your face in full light, "No one told me you were there."

You swallowed harshly at the correct observations of his, you believed he was lying just to scare you. "Cut the bullshit. So what is it about my friends that you NEED so bad? Sex?" You gasped in your head at your own retort.

"Sex?" He wheezed, hitting the table with an open palm. His loss of breath was an indication that he found your assumption pathetic. "I'm not that low Y/N," He pulled you in more than you had expected to increase the volume of his whisper, "Kyungeun will be of no use to me once I have Dahee... I'll let Kyungeun free soon, don't worry."

You hear footsteps against the waxed floors of the hallway and immediately sit down along with the rest of everyone in the room. The whole class shifted in a prim and proper manner as if no one moved an inch while the teacher was gone. You rummage through your bag to find the book you had taken out from the library to help sell the act.

"I'm surprised half of you didn't leave while I was gone... You are free to pack up now."  She nodded and left the class to probably catch her own lunchtime.

"Why will Kyungeun be of no use?" You get back on track with Sunghoon after the short commercial break.

"What's this book?" He ignored you, snatching the stack out of your hands without much thought.

"Don't ignore my question! And it's for one of my classes." You added.

He flipped to a random page like you had done when you first saw the book. He scanned the text and made all kinds of expressions, "Why the fuck do you have this?!" His jaw slightly lower than usual before an unexpected cast of excitement took over his face "This book you have, I'll have to confiscate it, pretty girl."

Immediately making you jumped on both feet to block any further travel, "Why? No? It's rightfully mine!" You scrapped the question and got more worried about the book.

He held the book as high as he could so you wouldn't even attempt to snatch it from him, "I'm starting to think you're fooling us more than we're fooling you. How much do you actually know about us?" He was clearly amused by you.

"Am I that clueless???" You bit down on your tongue, the word murderers coming to mind. But somehow that answer didn't seem right. "Fine keep that book and don't answer my question."  You muttered bitterly.

Sunghoon spun around in his slender form, "I'll answer all of your questions and give you this book back." You watched as he steadily gravitated toward the door, "Meet me at the front of the woods at dusk." And so he left the room, his mysterious intent making you uneasy.  The meetup was being held so late, in the dark, far from school grounds.

...

"I figured you had detention Y/N..." Hyesun tsked, "How was it?"

"It was alright, got some studying done... Funny, I saw Sunghoon there." You shivered just saying his name aloud.

"Sunghoon? Of course... He's sort of a snob to the teachers. Speaking of Sunghoon, Dahee told me this morning that she couldn't stop thinking about him." Hyesun bit deliciously down on her strawberry pastry, "But by chance... Do you by chance like him?"

"Why do you ask?" You answer not thinking at all.

"Dahee thinks you do, apparently by the way you look at him...? I mean, she really doesn't want to get too attached if that's the cas-"

"YES! I do like him!" You cut Hyesun off with the thought that by saying you liked him would get Dahee away from the dangerous prick.

Were you screwing up something up by saying that? Hopefully not.

"Oh, then you should tell her... I think the sooner the better because she was really wondering this morning whether or not to keep flirting." Hyesun suggested before her eyes grew large out of their sockets as she looked over your shoulder, "Hey Jungwon?"

You jumped out of the table, your mind in full freakout mode, "Jungwon??? Hey!?" You panicked as you were positive Jungwon heard literally everything that just came out of your mouth. "Hyesun I need to talk to Jungwon about a project if you'll excuse us." You were full of lies today and you were sure it would come to bite you back somehow.

Yanking Jungwon's wrist, you led him outside the dining hall and into the courtyard where there were actually people hanging around in the warm autumn noon. Jungwon shook your hand off of his coldly.

"Since when did you like Sunghoon?! He's fucking insane he will fucking ruin you!" Jungwon screamed with his voice that even began cracking up. He was yelling so loud, not giving a damn if the full basketball court heard him.

"Stop getting so mad?! I know he's a fucking bad guy! I don't actually like him calm down!" You tried raising your voice over his, trying to control the temper in your body.

"Then why in the hell did you tell your friend you do?! Why are you getting so involved with him dear God!" Jungwon breathed fire through his nose, resting the side of his fingers over his brows to avoid looking at you.

"Because I'm trying to protect her??? Would you stop acting like this? I don't understand why he's a bad person but it's clear he has some malicious intentions with my friends so just get off my fucking back would you? You don't even wanna explain to me either so just chill out!" You exploded with emotions right then and there but you had more fuel to the fire, "Are you just leading me on by caring about me this much? Are you jealous Jungwon? Do you like me? Answer me!"

In your deepest wishes, you wanted him to say yes but part of you was plain tired. You didn't know where all this talk of yours was coming from but somehow your feelings blended into the chaotic mixture of the moment.

He hesitated to answer which was enough to boil up some sort of pain and frustration in your heart, "I-I don't know!? I just really care for you Y/N!" Jungwon held his head as he lost his balance his face expressing he was not feeling well. He took a few steps back, his voice a lot softer as he began to breathe a bit heavier. "I think I'm gonna throw up." He groaned in pain as he held onto his head tighter.

In an instant, you snapped out of your anger and looked around for help while still checking on him, "Jungwon are you alright?!" You slid your bag off of yourself and put your hands near his sides in case he fainted, to which he was already in the process of doing. "Holy shit! Jungwon?!" His legs gave up on him completely, melting down into the pavement. Luckily he would not smash his skull if it weren't for the instinct of your arms to catch him.

You turned to the basketball court to see Jay had already approached the situation, a beat-up basketball in between his fist and torso. Jay knelt down with worry, "I knew this would happen to him..." He mumbled in frustration

[whumblr]

Wednesday

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1 - Continued from Part 28

Tagging: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully  @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @snuffhimout @susiequaz12 @mnmlover2002 @undertheburrow @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpinggoodtime @starnight-whump @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky 

-

A wave of annoyance hit Jay when he came home to Zayne waiting in his chair.

Wednesday was one of the few days of respite he got. He had training in the evening and after Zayne had intimidated him to get home on time after work, Jay had bargained a fixed day off so he could continue going without raising eyebrows.

It worked well. Except today, clearly. Though maybe he should’ve bargained for Tuesday evenings off. It could be quite hard, not to mention fucking ironic, to push through self-defence courses while the injuries from yesterday’s beating prevented him from standing up straight.

"Are you going senile? It's Wednesday." Jay pretended not to notice the dangerous atmosphere, Zayne leering at him from his chair, as he avoided eye contact and went to the bedroom to grab his bag.

"Thought maybe you were still sick in bed and in need of some distraction,” Zayne said, swivelling  the chair sideways.

"So you were planning on bullying on the sick," Jay called from the bedroom, "nice." He rushed from one end of the room to the next, fishing a t-shirt and shorts from his closet, grabbing his sneakers and stuffing them all in his bag in a hurry. If he could just make a quick exit, he could grab a bite to eat somewhere and kill some time outside. Not here.

Zayne’s gaze followed him as he rushed through his flat, eyes on the bag. “Means you’re well enough for some physical activity?”

Was he ever? “Not the kind you have in mind.”

“Just a little warm-up exercise to get you ready for your class.”

"No need.” Jay finally turned to him, frustrated. “Do you know how much it sucks when someone grabs your arm sparring, right on a day old bruise and-- oh what the hell, of course you do," he muttered as Zayne's grin only grew wider and his eyes lit up with every irritated word Jay spoke.

"No, really, do tell," Zayne got up and followed Jay to the hallway before he could slink off and out the door.

"Like this?" He clamped a hand over Jay's shoulder, right where he knew a large bruise was still healing.

Jay hissed at the sudden pain and twisted free.

Zayne took the moment to slither around him and stood in front of the door. Jay’s only escape.

“Get out the way,” Jay grunted. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. Still got an hour.”

Zayne casually stretched out an arm, leaning against the doorframe with his forearm like a bolt resting over the top corner of the door. He didn’t fully block the exit and his stance was open, like he actually stood to the side to let Jay pass.

But when Jay tried to scurry out and pull the door open, he looked up in annoyance – somewhat incredulous even - as it stopped against Zayne’s arm.

Come on, it’s a human arm, not some wooden bolt, why can’t I just…! He tried again hoping Zayne would pull back, which of course he didn’t.

Still leaning his full weight against the door, Zayne bent over Jay.

“You’ve had almost a week to heal, in more ways than one,” he cooed down on him, arm still not budging an inch. “Figured I should ease you into our routine again.”

Jay’s eyes widened and his breath caught for a bit. “It’s Wednes—“ he tried again, looked up to meet Zayne’s mischievous eyes.

“I know what day it is.”

“We had a deal.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way. Just a warm-up. Remind you what you’re taking those lessons for. How are those going, by the way?”

“Fine.”

“Fight me off, then.”

With Zayne reaching up like that, his torso was unprotected. He was practically inviting – daring – Jay to make a move. Yet Jay resisted the urge to plant an elbow into his stomach and run. All it would do was make sure that Zayne would be waiting for him later that evening to show him what a bad idea that had been, leaving him with a boatload of extra adrenaline and stress during his training hour, only to come home absolutely drained and too exhausted to defend himself.

He scoffed at that. Defend himself? Yeah, right.

Zayne, noticing his hesitation, tsked softly between his teeth. “What use are those lessons if you’re too scared to use ‘em? Stay here. I’ll help you get over that fear.”

“You want to teach me how to kick you out of my own house?”

“Instruct you in the ways of violence, sure, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“I think I’ve had enough lessons in violence.”

“Tell you what. You can go to your little fight club tonight,” Zayne started and Jay already narrowed his eyes, waiting for the ‘but’.

“And I’ll be waiting for you when you return and we’ll pick up where we left.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Or…”

Jay didn’t like the sound of that. He quickly let go of the door handle, but Zayne’s hand snapped around his wrist in a bruising grip, pulling him back. Caught off-balance, Jay fought to stay upright before he keeled right into Zayne’s chest. The hand over the door lowered and settled against the frame next to Jay’s head as Zayne encroached on his personal space and sidled closer.

“Get on your knees and beg.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Jay growled in return, but the fingers around his wrist only tightened in warning.

“Am I?”

Jay pulled against the grip and to his surprise, Zayne let go. He flexed his fingers to get rid of the numb feeling, the blood now rushing back to his fingertips. Zayne however, pushed himself off the doorway. He tilted himself up to full height and pressed his torso forward as he stepped towards Jay, pushing him away.

Jay instantly fell a step back, only to be followed by Zayne who loomed over him.

The intimidation worked wonders. Jay stumbled back in fear. He dropped his bag, ready to compromise to avoid the looming punishment.

“Okay, fine! But I’m not begging to leave my own flat! We had a d—“

But as he lowered to the floor, hand raised in surrender yet still sputtering his complaints, the sudden force of a boot to the chest caught him off guard. He fell back over the doorstep to the living room. Heard heavy thumping footsteps get closer and before he could scuttle away on his elbows, a groan was forced from him as Zayne stomped on his chest and pinned him to the ground.

The leather toe of Zayne’s heavy motor cycle boot nudged against his chin. Jay glanced up, eyes wide, and caught Zayne’s grin before the man let his weight fall down.

Jay grunted, his ribcage protesting against the sudden force.

His back arched against the wooden floor and he let his head fall back as he grit his teeth against the pain. Big mistake. Zayne took full advantage and slipped his boot down over Jay’s now exposed throat.

Carefully and very slowly, he shifted his weight again and Jay let out a cut off soft gasp as the pressure on his windpipe increased until he couldn’t breathe.

Hands roamed up, clawed into fists and pounded uselessly against Zayne’s ankles and shinbone that were protected by more rigid, sturdy leather. Jay kicked and struggled, his own shoes squeaking against the wooden floor.

He reached up, feeling for the edges of Zayne’s boot, fingers clawing into the fabric of the black jeans. While it seemed he was just scrambling desperately at Zayne’s leg, he had a plan. He found the weak spot, just behind the knee, and his fingers squeezed hard.

“Whoa!” Zayne yelped and pulled back in alarm when he felt the soft pinch break through his jeans before Jay could fully twist his fingers into the tendon. “That is nasty, Jay! What the hell, did your training actually teach you something useful?”

Jay didn’t answer. He scrambled up and pressed himself up against the side of the couch. He sat on his hunches, one arm over the armrest the other hand massaging his throat, panting and wheezing trying to catch his breath with his eyes still warily on Zayne.

Zayne let out a scoff as he saw him like that, a cat backed into a corner, but started to laugh. He rubbed the back of his leg. “I still feel that. Well, okay. Go learn some more tricks, I guess.”

He stepped aside, clearing the way out. “The extra adrenaline might give you a bit of an edge, tonight.”

-

Continued here