#took a small break and the damn follower count caught up with the posts again.

[every-kakashi]

[cjsinkythoughts]

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded!  Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum. 

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead. 

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…” 

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading​, @thatsdarwinism​, @satellitespidey​

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Hey could you do a tom riddle smut where they have a friends with benefits agreement and it’s kinda rough with dirty talk and the reader sees Tom flirting with someone else and gets jealous and confesses the next time they have sex that she has feelings for him?

pairing: young!tom riddle x reader 

warning(s): 18+, smut, slightly rough sex, dirty talk, feelings

word count: 1.7k 

a/n: sorry this took super long, took a break over the weekend but we’re back! also i’ve never written for tom riddle before nor have i really thought about him in the sense but this made me feel things!! so thank you anon who requested for my new obsession haha. i’ll be posting more throughout the week and requests are still open. 

Your night had definitely not gone as planned. 

You had thought you’d go to this little party, all of the Slytherin upperclassmen in attendance, and end the night in Tom’s bed. But no. Of course that’s not how your night would be going. 

What you were currently watching, with your wine glass dutifully in hand, was none other than Tom Riddle himself cozying up to Margot, who was a year younger than you. 

You and Tom were only friends with benefits, something that was agreed upon a long time ago, but you couldn’t help the fire that burned inside of you when looking at him with another girl. Labels be damned, that boy was yours. 

You waited patiently throughout the rest of the night, chatting with people here and there, until the room slowly began to clear. You watched as Margot finally retreated down the hallway to her room, leaving Tom all alone on the couch. 

He caught your eye from across the room and simply tilted his head in the direction of his own room with a cocky grin plastered on his face. When he departed the room himself, you had no choice but to follow. 

It was silent for a moment when you entered, but he quickly broke it. “Did you have a nice night?” He asked cordially, his back turned to you as he removed his tie. 

“Not as nice of a time as you did with Margot, it seems,” you bit back. You knew it was childish, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

When he turned to face you, he had an eyebrow cocked when he sauntered over to where you were perched on his bed. “Is someone... jealous?” He asked, looming over you. 

“No, just pointing out what I saw,” you countered easily. 

“You really don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” He asked, chuckling under his breath. 

“You’ve said it yourself, Tom. We’re just friends. What do I have to be jealous about?” You replied icily, your eyes not wavering from his. 

The way he was staring down at you sent your insides ablaze. The look in his eyes screamed menacing, possessive, and dark. It was everything you were craving from him in the moment. 

“I saw the looks all night Y/N. You couldn’t take your eyes off of us. You wanted to be the one with my undivided attention. You wanted to be the one pressed against my side. Just admit it,” he spoke lowly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your cheek sweetly. Although he was speaking softly and touching you tenderly, you could see it in his eyes - he wanted to devour you. And you were happily going to let him. 

You didn’t even reply, you just lunged at him, pulling his lips to yours. He matched your pace readily at first, but the next thing you knew he was pulling away and just ripping your clothes off at a speed you had never seen him move. 

“Friends don’t bother with kissing, Y/N,” he told you roughly while finally peeling your underwear from your body, exposing you to him in your entirety. He paused for a moment, unable to help himself as he took in your body greedily, but then he pounced. 

In one swift move he had his pants pulled down from his hips and his cock out of his briefs and lined up with your waiting core. You were sure he could feel the way you were throbbing for him against his tip, but you couldn’t find it in you to care at the moment. He was acting so similar, but so different to what he would normally do. He was always rough, always fast, but tonight he seemed to be letting some sort of guard down and he turned all types of wicked. 

He plunged into you in one steady thrust, not even bothering to let you adjust or slip a finger or two in prior like he typically would. But he was quick to explain himself yet again. “Friends don’t bother with foreplay either. Friends only care about one thing - using your body to get off,” he practically spit out, now pumping in and out of you at a furious pace. 

Although your eyes were closed, you knew he was watching you - he always did. You knew he could see the way your face kept scrunching up in pain at particularly rough thrusts, could feel the way your body was tensing beneath him, but it didn’t deter him. No. He was doing this on purpose. He was proving his point. You refused to let him win that quickly. 

You moved your arms up from the bed in an attempt to grab him as you usually would, but the second your skin touched him, he had both of your wrists pinned against the mattress. 

“Friends certainly don’t hold each other like lovers. Do they, Y/N?” He asked, a vicious condescending tone lacing through his voice. You whimpered at his words, your head tossing back and forth against his pillows in frustration, but you just heard him chuckle in return. 

But finally, in the moment you thought you’d break, he began to slow his thrusts down to a delicious roll that made your insides flutter while he used one hand to grab your chin and turn your face towards his. 

“You see, Y/N, I don’t think you like being just friends. Am I correct?” He asked. When you could only give a small nod back, he pressed forward. “Use your words. I know you have them.” 

“You’re right,” you replied, voice small as you tried to form a coherent thought while he was that far inside of you. 

“So what is it that you want, Y/N? Because by all means we can still be friends and finish this my way. But if you want something otherwise, let me know. Don’t be shy, we are friends after all,” he said, much more softly and playful than before. But you could tell he was treading along some weird edge, where he would bend to whatever you responded with in an instant. It was like playing with fire, but it spurred you on. 

“Want you to myself,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks flush red at your own words. When you chanced a look up at him, he had an eyebrow raised with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. There was a mixture of surprise and relief in his eyes and it was then you realized he had stopped moving inside of you entirely. 

“And how long have you felt like this?” He asked quietly, pulling out of you slowly but keeping his body above yours. Even he wasn’t willing to break the energy in the room that your words had created. 

“I, um, I think I realized a few weeks ago,” you said, trying to gain some confidence the longer this conversation went on. It was never something you had envisioned yourself ever telling him, but in typical Tom fashion he had trapped you into it regardless. 

“Hm, how funny. I’ve been feeling quite the same way about you,” he said, sending a shock through your system. 

“Really?” You asked more loudly than you had intended, still not quite believing him. 

“Y/N, any man would be a fool to have you and then let you go. I don’t intend on being a fool,” he explained. 

“Then don’t be a fool. I’m as good as yours,” you said, feeling more confident after his own admittance. You looked at him just as his eyes shot to yours, and the smile you saw dance along his face was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen. 

“Mine,” he all but muttered to himself, but the moment got swept away and heightened when he sheathed himself back inside of you, going at a pace he knew drove you absolutely wild with pleasure. 

You moaned out for the first time that night while he ravished your body. His hands and lips seemed to be everywhere all at once in a flurry of passion and your arms slowly crept up to dig your nails into his back. 

You got lost in your own feelings, letting the pleasure consume you entirely. You didn’t know how long it went on for, how many cries of his name left your lips, how many times he paused to just look at you, but you were snapped back to reality when spit slick fingers began attacking your clit. 

You cried out, arching your back and trying to buck up into his hands in one movement. You didn’t even realize how close you were until his fingers were on you. But it was his words that swallowed you whole and tossed you over the edge. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum for me knowing you’re mine and I’m yours,” he said roughly in your ear, his own release quickly approaching him as well. 

Once the words ‘I’m yours’ left his mouth, you were screaming his name and clinging to him as if your life depended on it while your orgasm burst through your body. He quickly followed after you, your own name moaned wantonly where his face was tucking against your neck while he fought to work you both through it. It was the best type of bliss you could ever imagine. 

Slowly, he pulled out of you one final time and laid down beside you, pulling you into the heat of his body the instant his head hit the pillow. You both laid like that for a few minutes, listening to each others breathing slowly even out as he held you. Finally, you decided to break that silence. 

“So what now, exactly?” You asked curiously, wondering exactly where you both stood now. 

“Darling, it’s late. Let’s go to sleep, hm? And I promise we’ll talk about it all in the morning,” he replied, leaving a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. 

You giggled lightly, it was probably the softest thing you had ever seen the man do, but you were quite content to fall asleep in his arms and see what tomorrow would bring - so that’s exactly what you did.

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | chapter five: do we look like recruiters to you?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.7K

notes:  thank you all so much for rolling with the changes to my posting schedule. it’s been a while since i posted an update and i really wanted to give you guys a chapter. plus it makes more sense, in my mind to break it out like this.  in this chapter, you’ll notice that ko starts calling OC “jagiya.” thank you to the korean reader who brought to my attention that my previous nickname for her didn’t fit as well as this one! 

anyway, you guys make me endlessly happy with your feedback on this story. i’d love to hear what you think of this chapter.  beta read by @hobi-gif​ because i would wither away without her analysis. also beta’d by the awesome @btsarmy9593​ who has been so awesome to give me her feedback. thank you to @augustbutwinter​ for the words of encouragement. and of course, the boos @ladyartemesia​ and @untaemedqueen​ pitched in to help me in this journey as well.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*************************

Min Yoongi wakes up with a problem.  Well a few problems, actually.

The first is that he has to pee.

The second is the head-to-toe pain that starts to register the moment his sluggish brain kicks into gear.  He starts from the bottom -- gingerly wiggling his toes, carefully stretching his legs -- and slowly works his way up, taking mental inventory of what hurts and what doesn’t.

A lot of shit is landing on the hurts list right now.

The third problem -- and perhaps the most pressing -- is the problem pressing into his side right now.

Your hair is still damp.

Yoongi noses into it and lies in the quiet for a while, breathing you in while you sleep.  You smell like his shampoo and his soap.  You’re wearing his t-shirt and basketball shorts.  You are covered in him; fitted to him.  Solid and warm and real.

Which brings him to his next problem.  

This is the kind of feeling that’s way too easy to become addicted to.  The kind of feeling that makes you do stupid shit.  Take away the mangled body and the looming safety concerns and this is easily the best morning of his life.

That’s why when you stir and burrow a bit deeper into his side, Yoongi ignores the pain radiating from his sore ribs.  He ignores the way his arm has fallen asleep under you, ignores the intermittent buzzing of his phone from the nightstand warning of missed texts.

He ignores the tiny voice in his head that says don’t get attached to this feeling.

Yoongi ignores everything but you and this because right now, it’s the only thing he wants to think about.

And then he’s drifting off again.

***************************

This time, Yoongi wakes up alone.

The deep steadying breath he takes while he’s trying to work up the nerve to get out of bed hurts like hell.

Everything hurts like hell, actually -- the back of his head where he can feel scrapes left behind by the brick wall, his jaw from where he took that driller to the face.  His knee from where he jammed it into that fucking goon’s stomach.  

But his shoulder is what’s really fucking everything up right now.

He can’t remember telling you where to find the sling or how you got it on.  Can’t remember you positioning his pillows around his injured arm or slipping into bed beside him.  He’d been so fucked up by the pain and the adrenaline withdrawal that he’s pretty sure he blacked out at some point.  

So Yoongi lies there for a minute, trying to piece together what he can remember of last night.  

The memories come back to him blurred and disjointed, out of order.

He remembers feeling like he might vomit when you shoved his shoulder back into place.  Awkwardly accepting your help taking off his jeans so he could shower.  Nearly falling to his knees under the hot water.  Pulling himself together long enough to stash his gun in a drawer when you’d stepped away.

And it’s that last memory that makes his chest go tight.

Last night, hiding his gun seemed like the right thing to do.  A way to keep you separate from the ugliness he normalized a long time ago.  But this morning the half-assed lie of omission makes him feel guilty as hell.  A pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable.  Chewing gum jammed into the crack of a dam.

He has to tell you about that gun.

So he gets to work on dragging his ass out of bed.  It takes him way too damned long to sit upright, way too damned long to slide himself off the edge of the mattress.  Longer than that to slowly limp his way into the bathroom where he pees for what feels like a solid ten minutes.

He’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he spots the bright red toothbrush sitting in the cup on his sink.  

It’s just some cheap throwaway he brought home after his last visit to the dentist -- a long-forgotten backup that’s been stashed in the cabinet under the bathroom counter for months.  But now it’s sitting out in the open, in that cup. Right next to his own blue one.

Yoongi stares at it and scrubs a hand over his face.

And that tiny voice in his head gets a bit louder.

************************

He finds you seated at his piano, bare-faced and hair tousled.  Fingers tracing light patterns across the keys of his custom instrument, gaze taking in all of the tiny details he paid a small fortune for.

He could have stayed there for a while, just appreciating the view had you not caught him staring.

Your dark eyes flick up to find his and Yoongi’s pulse quickens at the warmth in them.  At the soft, shy smile that comes over you just before you clear your throat and lower your eyes back to the keys.

“Beautiful,” you sigh.  

No kidding, Yoongi thinks.

He crosses the room slowly.  Tries his hardest not to limp but the throb in his knee makes that nearly impossible.  Sadness flashes across your face as you watch him sink heavily onto the bench beside you.  

“I can help you, you know,” you admonish softly.

Yoongi shrugs, motioning to the sling.  “You already have.”

He stills when you reach one hand out to brush your fingertips across the redness on his jaw.  You stroke your thumb across his aching cheek and Yoongi leans into the touch, savoring the feeling of your skin against his.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry you’re hurt, and -- ” you pause to shake your head sadly,  “-- and I’m so sorry it’s because I put you in this position.”

Yoongi sucks in a deep breath.

He can’t bring himself to tell you that he can’t think straight when he imagines what could have happened if that fucking goon had gotten you alone.  Can’t bring himself to admit out loud that he could have pulled his gun and ended that piece of shit without losing a second of sleep.  

Would have, had you not been there.

“Better me than you, Doc,” he says thickly.  “You made the right call.”

You press a gentle kiss to his throbbing jaw.

“You still mad at me?”

You whisper the words into the shell of Yoongi’s ear and a slow heat builds in his gut.  

“Yeah,” he lies, dropping a kiss on the delicate skin below your jaw.  He ghosts the tip of his nose against the curve of your neck and you shudder under his touch. He’s forced to check himself, leaning back for a few inches of badly-needed space.  

On the bright side, at least his dick isn’t broken, too.

He clears his throat.  “If that guy had brought backup -- ”

“ -- If that guy had brought backup, he’d have been out of the car long before you left his buddy in a pile on the floor,” you interrupt gently.

Yoongi chuckles.  “Just admit you’re terrible at following directions.”

“You happen to have your MRI results around here anywhere? I’d be interested to see what they say about that shoulder.”  

You raise one brow when Yoongi narrows his eyes at you in response.  “No? Well, then I guess I’m not the only one who’s bad at following directions.”

“Guess not,” Yoongi admits with a smile.  

Your turn your attention back to his piano, touch reverent as you slide one hand across the rich black lacquer.  

“When you first walked in, I was going to say something really dumb like do you play?” you admit with a laugh.  “But no one owns something this magnificent unless they have a passion for it.”

“Yeah, I play,” Yoongi murmurs.  “When I have two functioning arms.”

He’d intended to earn a laugh with that tease, but the joke falls flat.  Sadness creeps back into your features.

“Yoongi,” you say quietly, gaze dropping into your lap.  “I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me last night without you.  And all I can think about this morning is why?  Why did you do this for me?”

Fuck, that’s a loaded question.  

If Yoongi had the balls, he’d tell you straight up that he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you at Songdo .  That you feel like his chance at something more.  But Yoongi doesn’t say any of that.  

Instead, he coughs up a weak white lie.

“We’re both out here flying solo Doc.  We have to look out for each other.  Besides -- ” he tips your chin up with a gentle press of his fingers and finds your dark eyes glassy with unshed tears.  “ -- I have a thing for that smart mouth of yours.”

He earns a tiny smile from you then, just the slightest curve of your lips.  And he’s this close to kissing the soft, sad expression right off your face when that voice in his mind fucks everything up again.

Tell her about the gun.  

The thought is like a bucket of cold water over his head, jarring him from the intimacy of this moment.  Yoongi swallows thickly before opening his mouth to tell you the truth.  But before he can speak, you do.

“I have something of yours,” you say, reaching into the pocket of your borrowed basketball shorts.  Yoongi watches you produce a worn handmade bracelet and holds his palm open to accept it.  “It fell out of your jacket last night,” you explain.

He rubs his thumb over the smooth metal corners of the cross that dangles from aged leather.  It brings back the memory of his baptism -- of the day Mrs. Bak proudly gifted it to him while he was still damp from the ceremony.  It also brings back the memory of last night -- when he’d clutched it between his fingers and sent a silent plea for protection skyward.

It’s been a long time since he’s prayed.  It’s been a long time since he had anything to pray for.

“Are you religious?” you ask softly.

Yoongi shakes his head.  “Honestly? I don’t know.”  A self-conscious heat creeps up his neck.  “Just makes me feel better, I guess.  Is that dumb?”

“No,” you reassure quietly, bringing one warm hand up to cup his cheek.  Yoongi covers your hand with his, laces his fingers in between yours.  “Not dumb at all.”

Tell her about the gun.

“Doc,” Yoongi whispers thickly, “We need to talk about something.”

Your hand falls away from his face and your spine goes stiff with tension and Yoongi almost loses his nerve.

Almost.

“Okay, so I was, uh -- carrying a gun last night,” he starts, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck,  “I carry a gun all the time, actually.  I hid it because I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You say nothing, expression unreadable.  And Yoongi keeps talking.

“But I don’t want to keep things from you,” he says quietly.  “I want you to know exactly who I am. No half-truths.”

Your eyes drop back down to the piano.  You pluck at one of the keys and a somber note rings out, lingers in the air between you before you speak.

“You have a gunshot wound in your back, Yoongi,” you murmur.  “It’s not exactly a leap of logic.  Besides, I already saw your gun.  It was in your drawer last night when I got you a change of clothes.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing the fact that you’d discovered the gleaming silver piece and hadn’t written him off right away.  You’d still slept in the crook of his arm last night.  You’re still here right now.

“And yeah, maybe it does freak me out a bit,” you admit.  “But after what I saw last night, maybe I can understand a bit, too.”

Yoongi lets go of the breath he’s been holding and takes your hand in his.  Maybe is as good as he could have hoped for at this point.  Maybe is not a dead end.  

“I have something to tell you, too,” you admit after a moment.  “I’m due at the hospital in a few hours.”

“Doc,” Yoongi groans, hand tightening reflexively around yours.  “You can’t go back there.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you insist, pulling away.  “This isn’t just some job I fell into, Yoongi.  This is years of my life.”

Yoongi is quiet for a few seconds, willing his rising agitation to subside.  He’s careful to check his tone before he speaks.

“You’re not safe there.”

“I have to go back.  I don’t have a choice,” you repeat.  “I can’t afford to get blacklisted and Lee is still my boss. And if he’s already got wind of what happened last night, he’s going to be gunning for me even harder than he already has been.  I have to tread carefully.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“You have to meet me in the middle here, Doc,” he exhales.  “There’s got to be something halfway between you walking right back into that hellhole and you losing your job.  Take a couple of sick days.  Give me some time to figure out who your boss is working with and what I can do about it.  Can you do that?”

You’re quiet for a moment as you consider his proposal.

“Yeah,” you concede softly.  “I can do that.”  

You lift a hand to brush a lock of hair out of his face and press your mouth to his.

Every cell in Yoongi’s body stands at attention.  He cards his fingers into the soft mass of your hair and kisses you slowly -- carefully -- all too aware of the way he’d manhandled you last night.  

Not even the pain in his jaw could take away from how good it feels to touch you like this.  Not even the ache in his ribs could stop him from leaning into you. He slips his tongue past your lips and you whimper, fingers curling into his sore knee.  

He could not give a shit.

Yoongi leaves your mouth to trail kisses down your jaw, and you tip your head back, offering him the soft expanse of your neck.  He accepts it gladly, mouth hot and open on your skin, savoring your scent and taste -- enjoying the way he can feel your pulse fluttering wildly under his lips.

He’s enjoying it all so much that he gets careless.  The elbow of his injured arm connects with the sharp edge of the piano and he recoils instantly.

“Dammit,” he groans. “Fuck.”

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth.

The pain is so potent it seems to radiate all the way from his arm to his temples. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the ringing in his ears to subside.

“Yoongi, your shoulder, it's -- it’s really bad,” you admonish quietly.  “If you keep going like this, the damage is going to be permanent.”

“Trust me, I know,” he sighs.  “I’m going to get this looked at, I just haven’t.”

“I want you to see a friend of mine at Asan today,” you urge.  “He’s a good doctor.  He can get you some pain relief.  Get you back to working condition.”

Yoongi nods weakly, pain still ebbing from his arm.

“But it’s not a substitute for an MRI and it’s not a substitute for surgery,” you warn.  “This is just a temporary fix.  You have to be careful.  Whatever you’re planning, just please be careful.”

Yoongi skates the pad of his thumb over your lips before kissing you just one more time.

“Don’t worry about me, Doc,” he murmurs.  “I’m going to have some help.”

**************************

It’s amazing what a pair of high-powered steroid shots and a bottle of industrial-strength painkillers can do for a guy.  

Yoongi pulls into the parking lot at Maekju feeling almost human again.

If the text messages that have been blowing up his phone all afternoon are any indication, everyone is here tonight.  Everyone with the exception of Namjoon, of course.  He doesn’t drink anymore and even when he did, he always preferred to drink alone.

Jungkook is the first person Yoongi spots, leaned up against a pool table, beer in hand.  He’s watching Jimin and Taehyung face off at billiards while Seokjin and Hoseok sit side-by-side at the bar, deep in conversation.

The maknae’s eyes go a bit wide when he takes in Yoongi’s unusual gait and immobilized arm.

“Holy shit, hyung,” he breathes as Yoongi approaches.  “What the hell happened to you?”

Seokjin whips around in his barstool at the sound of Jungkook’s greeting, but Hoseok doesn’t take the bait.  He stiffens in his seat but refuses to turn around. Stubborn bastard.

“Yoga accident,” Yoongi mutters, stepping up to the bar next to Seokjin.  The older man smirks as he takes a long pull of his beer.

“How’d you drive with that thing on?” Seokjin asks, motioning to Yoongi’s sling.

“Carefully,” Yoongi says dryly.  “Listen, can you give me a minute with Jung here?”

Seokjin’s critical gaze bounces back and forth between Yoongi and Hoseok, who is still resolutely pretending not to notice the conversation taking place just inches from his face.  He stares into a television mounted high above the bar and sips his whiskey with feigned indifference.

“You two need couple’s counseling, I swear,” Seokjin groans, rolling his eyes. He stands to his feet to relinquish his barstool and claps a hand over Yoongi’s good shoulder.  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Hoseok, the fucking infant, grabs a newspaper abandoned on the bartop and proceeds to pretend to read it.  Yoongi slides into the stool next to him anyway.

“Miss me?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer.

“You’re not gonna say hello?  Not gonna ask me why it looks like I spent all night falling off a cliff?”

“Nope.”

Yoongi waves off the bartender who starts walking in his direction.  The last thing he needs is a drink.  He’s got so many painkillers in his system right now that one sip of booze would probably have him under the bar in seconds.

“Come on Hoseok,” Yoongi sighs.  “Don’t be a dick.  I’ve literally never seen you read a newspaper.”

“I like to stay informed,” Hoseok shrugs.

“Well, I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Oh, so you talk to me now?” Hoseok snickers.  “That’s new.”

Hoseok’s probably earned the right to his petulance, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.  Yoongi starts to reconsider that drink.

“Jung,” he groans.  “I’m trying to apologize here.”

“So apologize then.”

“Fine,” Yoongi mutters.  “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole lately.  I’ve been twisted up over some shit that has nothing to do with you or family business.”

Hoseok grabs his whiskey off the bar and finally -- finally -- pivots to face him.

“A giant asshole,” he corrects dryly.  

“Yes. A giant asshole,” Yoongi repeats.  “We good now?”

Hoseok sips his whiskey slowly, eyes narrowed at Yoongi over the lip of his glass.

“Buy me a drink.”

“Fine,” Yoongi hisses, flagging the bartender.  

Hoseok leans back in his barstool, looking a bit smug.

“Now this shit you’ve been twisted up about,” he starts, brow cocked.  “Would this have anything to do with your secret doctor friend?”

“Maybe,” Yoongi admits, scratching at the back of his neck.  His injured shoulder is tired from carrying the extra weight of the sling.  He rolls it gingerly as Hoseok looks on.

“Would this have anything to do with why you look like you got jumped on your way in here tonight?”

Yoongi’s cheeks warm at his partner’s blunt observation.  “Maybe.”

Hoseok drains his whiskey just as the bartender arrives with a fresh one.  He takes a long drink before setting his glass back down on the bar.  His lips purse thoughtfully as he levels Yoongi with a long, assessing look.

“Okay,” he says calmly. “So who do we have to go fuck up?”

**************************

Dr. Lee Geon just looks like a fucking weasel.

Yoongi glares at the man as he strolls into the coffee shop a few blocks from Songdo with just minutes to spare to his shift.  

Lee bears little resemblance to his photos on the hospital website.

He’s thin -- just this side of gaunt -- hollow cheeks prominent below dark under eyes beneath a sparse dusting of greasy hair.  Were he not dressed in a rumpled lab coat and equally creased scrubs, Yoongi might have missed him entirely.

Across the room, Hoseok peers at Yoongi over the top of yet another borrowed newspaper -- is this the guy? -- and Yoongi answers with a furtive nod.  

He goes over the plan they’d worked out in the car in his head.  They’d find the guy -- make sure he was the guy -- and then follow him out of the shop.  Catch him just before he got into his car.  Shake him up a bit before shaking him down for information.

There’s one thing Yoongi still hasn’t worked out, though.

Just how much he’s going to allow himself to hurt this asshole before sending him on his way.  Lee slowly shuffles his way to the front of the line as Yoongi imagines jamming his fist into the man’s stupid fucking face.  Imagines doing it over and over again until the piece of shit is unrecognizable.

Yoongi watches Lee order his drink as he kneads at the tender muscles of his shoulder.

Ditching the sling was probably a bad idea -- definitely against doctor’s orders -- but it was a risk he was more than willing to take.  He’d downed a couple of painkillers and shoved his shoulder into a brace and decided he could deal with the dull throb just for the night.  

No way in hell he was going to confront this scumbag looking like some kid who just fell off his skateboard.  

It doesn’t take long for the barista to put together Lee’s drink.  He grabs his coffee and Yoongi tenses in anticipation of his next move.  But instead of heading for the exit, Lee heads for the bathroom instead.

Yoongi locks eyes with Hoseok across the room and Hoseok raises one brow.

Change of plans?

Yoongi nods.

*****************************

Lee’s coffee sits abandoned atop the sink ledge.

Yoongi and Hoseok slip silently into the bathroom and get right to work.  Hoseok blocks the door as Yoongi quietly creeps past the stalls, ducking his head to peer beneath each one.  Lee’s scuffed sneakers are the only pair of shoes he spots.

His ears pick up on a faint sound coming from inside the locked stall.

It’s a kind of soft, intermittent rasping.  Yoongi concentrates on the noise, isolates it until he comes to the realization that it’s sniffling he’s hearing.  He turns to Hoseok and taps his finger against the side of his nose and Hoseok nods his agreement.

Yoongi shakes his head in disgust.  Is there a single substance this idiot isn’t addicted to?

It takes a moment for the sniffling to subside.  It’s followed by a few seconds of quiet rustling in which Yoongi can picture Lee carefully pocketing whatever’s left of his coke.  The noises from behind the brushed steel barrier finally stop and the next thing Yoongi hears is the distinct clink of the latch coming apart.

Lee swings the door wide -- gets one look at what’s waiting for him on the other side -- and nearly jumps out of his skin.  

He startles so hard that he almost falls backward into the toilet.  But he catches himself, regaining his balance and staring back at Yoongi with wide, worried eyes.

Yoongi stands there and says nothing.

“Excuse me,” Lee mumbles, eyeing him wearily as he tries to slide past.  He takes two steps forward then stops in his tracks when he spots Hoseok.  Lee swallows thickly, eyes darting back and forth between both men.

“Is there a problem gentlemen?” he croaks.

Yoongi takes a step towards Lee.  He shrinks back when Yoongi reaches for his badge, yanking the retractable cord as he pulls it close to examine it.  Yoongi runs his thumb over the raised lettering on the laminated card, letting the taut silence linger for dramatic effect.

Then he lets go of the badge without warning, fighting a smile when Lee flinches as it snaps back into place.

“Yes, we have a problem,” Yoongi confirms pleasantly.  “And yes, it’s you.”

The little color left in Lee’s face immediately drains out.

“Look, I don’t know who you guys are, but you don’t w-want to mess with me,” he stammers, voice cracking comically halfway through his flimsy threat.  “I know people.”

“Oh shit,” Yoongi’s eyes go wide with feigned concern, “You hear that, Jung?  This guy knows people.”

“Sounds scary,” Hoseok chuckles.

Lee starts to breathe harder, chest rising and falling faster.  Pupils blown with fear and coke.

“Now, here’s the difference between you and us, Dr. Lee,” Yoongi explains calmly.  “You know people.  But we -- ” he motions to himself and then to Hoseok, “ -- are people . Do you understand what I’m trying to say here?”

Yoongi punctuates his point by brushing the edge of his open leather jacket aside, allowing his pistol to peek out from underneath.  Lee’s eyes lock on it as he nods slowly, pulling deep, noisy breaths through his nose.

“Great.  Now we don’t have to play the game where you pretend not to know about the bullshit you’ve been pulling over at the hospital, right?”

Lee shakes his head slowly.

“So that means we also don’t have to play the game where you pretend you didn’t send some fucking street goon to rough up a little old lady, either. Right?”

The man’s mouth drops open like his first instinct is to deny that accusation. But he steals another look at Hoseok and shuts it instead.

“And then -- ” Yoongi jabs Lee in the chest with one finger and the man jumps back, “-- you tried to send that same goon after your own resident.  But here’s the thing, Doctor Lee.  She knows people, too.”

Lee’s body goes rigid.  Yoongi watches him process the information with his drug-addled brain, a flare of recognition finally sparking in his dull eyes.

“I saw you at the hospital,” Lee whispers.  “You know her.”

“Don’t worry about who I know,” Yoongi shrugs.  “Worry about what you’re going to say in your resignation letter.”

He advances on the man again, closing the space between them.  Lee tries to back away, but he runs out of room.  He tilts against the stall door.

“Resignation letter?” he echoes weakly.

“The one you’re turning in tonight,” Yoongi explains coolly.  “Before you get the fuck out of Songdo and then get the fuck out of Seoul.”

Lee sputters for a moment, grasping for his next words.  

“Well, where am I supposed to go?” he bleats.

“Do we look like recruiters to you, man?” Hoseok cuts in sharply.  “We don’t give a shit where you go -- you just have to go.  You sure this guy is a doctor, Min?  He seems way too dumb to be a doctor.”

“Nah.  This guy’s a junkie pretending to be a doctor,” Yoongi accuses, dropping any pretense of good humor.  “Pretending to be a tough guy, too.  But all of that ends tonight.”

Yoongi grabs Lee by the chin, jerking his head into place and forcing the trembling man to look him in the eye.

“In ten minutes, you’re going to walk your ass into that hospital.  You’re going to tell them you are leaving.  You are going to take that piece of shit pharmacist and anyone else who’s involved with you.  And then you are never going to step foot in this city again.”

He pauses to enjoy the way Lee’s pupils dilate even wider with fear.

“You’re not too high to understand what I’m saying to you right now, right?”

Lee shakes his head weakly, jaw still pinned in Yoongi’s vice grip.

“Great. Now just one more thing before you go on your merry way,” Yoongi says, voice low with menace.  “Give us the name of your street guys.”

Lee panics.  “I can’t,” he whines from between compressed cheeks.  “They’ll kill me.”

Yoongi grips his face tighter, crushing the man’s jaw and using it to push his body flush against the stall.  His fingers and knuckles turn white with the force of his grasp and Lee groans weakly at the pain.  

“I will kill you,” Yoongi seethes. “Me.  Right fucking now with my bare fucking hands if you don’t give me that name.”

Lee is sweating so profusely that Yoongi wonders briefly if he’s having a heart attack.  He’s probably got enough coke in his system for that to be an actual concern.  But the pathetic little shit manages to pull himself together long enough to follow directions.

“Kkangpae,” he wheezes.

Yoongi’s iron grip stays in place, even as he turns to Hoseok, even as both men exchange a look.  That is something he did not see coming.  Perhaps his recent personal issues are family business, after all.

He finally releases Lee’s jaw and the man rears back, breathing hard.

“You have exactly one day to get the fuck out of this city,” Yoongi instructs quietly.  “And that is not an offer I’m prepared to make twice.”

Lee licks his dry lips, nodding his head slowly like he’s just come out of a trance.  “Okay.”

“Great chat,” Yoongi smiles, patting Lee’s cheek.

Hoseok leaves his post at the door to cross the cramped bathroom and reach for the coffee Lee abandoned minutes ago.  Both men watch in silence as he turns it up over the sink, pours it out, and then tosses it in the trash.

He heads back to the door and holds it open.

“Damn Hoseok,” Yoongi murmurs as he brushes past.  “That was cold.”

*********************************

YOU

There’s buzzing.  Of that, you’re sure.

But in those first few moments that you’re rousing, you can’t be sure if you’re hearing it or dreaming it.  You’re disoriented.  It’s the second time in as many days you’ve woken up in an unfamiliar bed.

Shafts of sunlight pour through the blinds and you squint at them, trying to get a sense of the time of day.  If the amber tinge is any indication, it’s late into the afternoon.

The buzzing sounds again.

You roll to your side to grab your cell phone off the nightstand and blink at a long list of waiting texts.

ko: wake up sleeping beauty [ 11:36 AM ]

ko: i have news [ 11:45 AM ]

ko: big news [ 12:22 PM ]

ko: and gaeran tost-u [ 1:02 PM ]

ko: ready for you to wake up now [ 1:43 PM ]

ko: don’t mind me just gonna bang a few pots and pans [ 2:11 PM ]

Any curiosity over Ko’s big news is overshadowed by the way your heart drops when none of those messages is from Yoongi.  

Before you’d left his apartment, he’d asked you to stay.  He’d cleared his throat and looked down at his hands and explained that he’d feel better if you weren’t alone until this entire mess was settled.  But the way he looked at you in those last few minutes together made you feel like his proposition was about much more than just your protection.

It made you want to say yes.

Never mind that it’s insane to feel so at home in his personal space -- or that coming to that realization might have sent you into a mild panic.  In the end, you’d had to say no because you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Ko on her own while this madness played out.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and fire off two quick texts.

you: i hope you’re okay. please be careful [ 2:33 PM ]

you: up now. be down in five [ 2:34 PM ]

**************************

Ko makes good on her promise of gaeran tost-u.

You’re greeted by the pleasant smell of the sugared egg dish as you walk down the stairs.  Ko sits at her kitchen table, eyes shining with excitement, and pushes a plate at you when you slide into the chair across from hers.

“Eat,” she orders sweetly.  Your stomach rumbles on cue and you waste no time digging in.

“This is really good,” you declare around a mouthful of bread and eggs.  “I might have to live with you forever.”

Ko smiles wide and the expression makes you feel warm from the inside out. The bruising on her face is barely visible now, easily hidden with a little makeup. Her eyes crinkle with happiness as she watches you eat without saying a word.

“Alright,” you sigh, loathe to stop eating even for as long as it takes to speak.  “Spill it. You look fit to burst.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she complains cheerfully.  “Dr. Lee is gone.  Walked into Songdo last night and walked out forever.”

You gasp halfway through your next bite, sputtering as you try to catch your breath around a mouthful of toasted bread.  Ko stands to grab you a glass of water which you gratefully accept.

“Well, don’t die on me now,” she teases, “Because there’s more.  Nang left, too.  And Tuan and Beom from pathology.  All four of them quit without even so much as a notice, Jagi.  Isn’t that wild?”

You sip your water slowly and Ko’s eyes flash as she watches you.

“Yoo called me early this morning and said the entire hospital is talking about it. There’s a bunch of crazy theories going around.  And here I am, drinking my tea.  Thinking about how you took a few sick days and showed up here. Thinking about how healthy and rested you look right now.  Isn’t that interesting?”

You nod, jamming the sandwich back in your mouth for an obnoxiously large bite.

“And I can’t help but wonder if there’s some connection between this very convenient development and my very sweet, secretive friend.”

Ko’s mouth twists into a teasing smile as you chew your food absurdly slow.

“That sandwich isn’t going to last forever, Jagi,” she says dryly.  She lifts her teacup to her mouth and takes a dainty sip.  “And trust me, I have nothing but time.”

She leans back, cup in hand.

“Okay, so I might know something about it,” you admit after a while.  “But there’s still a lot I don’t know.  And I’m not sure how much of this you want to hear.”

Ko tuts under her breath.

“I want to hear it all.  I’ve got quite a few years on you and trust me, very little shocks me anymore.  So now you spill it.”

You take another sip of water and clear your throat.

“Okay,” you exhale.  “So there’s this guy -- ”

“ -- Oh, I love it when stories start like this,” Ko interrupts.  She props her chin up with her hands like you’re telling a bedtime story and you shake your head with a wry smile.

“He’s been kind of… helping me, I guess.”

“Helping you,” Ko echoes.  “As in helping you out of your clothes?”

“No,” you deny hotly, cheeks warming.  “He’s a friend.”

Ko doesn’t bother to call you out on the weak lie.  But her face says what her mouth doesn’t when one skeptical brow raises high.

“Go on.”

“I told him about what was going on at the hospital and he said he could help me,” you explain slowly.  “So I’m pretty sure he figured out a way to run off Lee and Nang.”

Ko taps her finger against the side of her teacup.

“So let me see if I have this right,” she muses.  “You tell this friend -- who you’ve never once mentioned, by the way -- that you’ve been having this very dangerous trouble at work.  And then your friend somehow manages to convince two grown men who’ve worked at Songdo for years to give up their high-paying jobs and up-front access to IV drugs overnight.”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“And just like that -- ” Ko snaps her fingers for emphasis, “ -- they’re gone without so much as a fuss.”

You nod weakly.

“Jagi,” Ko’s voice drops low.  “I take it your friend’s not a mailman, is he?”

“No,” you mumble.  “Definitely not.”

Ko hums under her breath.  She carefully lifts her teacup to drink, eyes trained on you over the rim.  Her quiet scrutiny makes you anxious.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks after a long pause.

“If I said no would that stop you?”

“Not a chance,” Ko laughs.  “Would this friend happen to be the mysterious, handsome man who asked for you in the ER a few weeks back?”

Mind like a steel trap, this woman.  You should have known Ko would make that connection and fast.  There’s no point in denying it, so you don’t.

“Yes,” you whisper thickly. “He is.”

It’s hard to get a read on Ko’s reaction.  Over the years, you’ve come to rely on her sweetness and wisdom and warmth.  But now, as you stare into her dark eyes and try to interpret her careful expression, you realize there’s something else you need from her.

Her approval.

“Ko, I think I -- ” you pause to choose your words carefully, “ -- I think I might be in really deep with this guy.”

Ko snorts.

“Oh, I think you might be right about that, Jagiya .  And if he’s helping you with something like this?  Chances are, you’re not alone.”

“Yeah,” you exhale, wringing your hands together beneath the table.  “Thing is -- I need you to tell me I’m not making a mistake here.”

The corners of Ko’s mouth lift into a soft expression of surprise.

“Oh, Jagi,” she chides sweetly.  “You know I can’t tell you that. I don’t know anything about this man.”  She reaches across the table to cover your hand with her own.  “But you do.  You’re the only one who knows how you feel about him.  And you’re the only one who knows if he’s a good man underneath it all.”

Ko squeezes your hand and you turn your head before she can see the tears that threaten in your eyes.  The amber sunlight outside her kitchen window is shifting orange now, flares of light reflecting off the glass.  

You stare at them and think about Yoongi.

Until now, it’s like you’ve been splitting him into two different men -- the bruised, bloody con artist from the exam room and the quiet, teasing flirt from the coffee shop.  Until now, it’s been the only way to reconcile your complicated feelings.

But it's well past time you accepted the truth.

The same Yoongi whose cheeks had pinked when he’d asked you to stay is the same Yoongi you watched beat the shit out of a hired thug.  The Yoongi who carries a cross is the Yoongi who carries a gun.  They’re two halves of one whole.  

And you can’t pine for one and reject the other.

Your cell phone buzzes from the pocket of your pajama pants.  You reach for it, relief coursing through you when you spot Yoongi’s name on the screen.

yoongi: one more thing to do before we can talk [ 3:01 PM ]

yoongi: it’s cold outside, be sure to bundle up [ 3:01 PM ]

Yoongi’s random mention of the weather confuses you.  You stare at the texts and Ko stares at you, concerned by the baffled expression on your face.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” you insist, shaking your head.  “Just, um -- ”

Bundle up.   A tingle runs up the length of your spine as realization slowly creeps over you.  

“Excuse me for a moment,” you murmur, slipping out of your seat.

Ko watches you dash up the stairs, slack-jawed.

You make a beeline for your borrowed room, throwing open the closet doors to find the coat you’d left hanging there on arrival.  The coat you’d worn to and from Yoongi’s.  You hurriedly dig into the pockets, fingers immediately making contact with something hard and jagged.  

You pull it out.

The shiny silver key in your palm looks like it’s never been used, sharp edges gleaming in the waning sunlight streaming into this room.

You don’t have to guess what it’s for.

You just close your fingers around it and hold it tight.

*****************

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[ks-dreams-fantasies]

Can you write one where the reader surprise vinnie on his bday like the readee said that she cant go to his bday bc of something

*Pics not mine*

Birthday boy – Vinnie Hacker

Sooooo… I decided to turn this request into a smut 👁👅👁  If you are not comfortable, don’t worry you can read the first half of the story before it gets to heated. I got carried away, sorry 😬 Hope you enjoy it still

Author’s note: In this story, both the reader and Vinnie are of legal drinking age, and the pandemic is long over

Warning: Smut 🔥

Word Count: 1.9k (not proofread)

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‘’ I know you’re disappointed Vinnie, I am too, but we’re not done filming yet” you said to your boyfriend over the phone. You had been away to Canada for the past month, shooting for a movie with other young actors. You loved your job, but being away from the people you loved the most, was difficult.

“Can’t you take a couple of days off?” He asked almost whining

“It doesn’t work like that Vin” you sighed, you knew he was sad “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I promise” you continued, smiling softly, even though he couldn’t see you.

“I just miss you, and the fact that you won’t be here for my birthday sucks” he huffed “I know it’s not your fault”

“I miss you too” you said before getting interrupted by a knock on the door. “I have to go baby, we’re getting ready to film, I’ll call you later, I love you”

“Ok, I love you” he responded before you hung up, making your way to set. Tomorrow was your last day of filming before a two-weeks break. You hadn’t told Vinnie, wanting to surprise him for his birthday, since it was a last-minute decision from the movie director. You were stocked to go back to L.A to see your friends for a few days. You had decided that for Vinnie’s birthday, you would plan a nice trip away from everything, just the two of you. You had talked with Thomas and Mia, knowing you could trust them with your secret. They had kept you up to date on everything, including the party schedule.

You would see him in only two days, and you couldn’t wait to be near him. You missed everything about your boyfriend, his hugs, his kisses, his voice, his laugh, his touch, oh how you missed his touch. A month away from each other wasn’t an easy task since the both of you were always together. He hadn’t had the chance to come visit you on set since he had a bunch of contracts and projects to work on, himself.

The day finally came for you to go back home to Vinnie, and you couldn’t be more excited. He didn’t suspect anything since you had called him that morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday.

“Thomas said you sent me a package, but I’m not allowed to open it till later tonight” he had said, loving that even though you couldn’t be with him on his special day, you had still thought about sending him something.

“I believe you can wait a few more hours” you had smiled, looking at him through your phone screen. The FaceTime call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you had to go

“Ok baby, I’ll call you back later tonight so we can open your gift together, have a good day, I love you”you had said looking at the time, knowing you had to leave soon to make it to your flight in time

“I love you too (Y/N)” he smiled fondly at you “See you tonight” he had said

“See you tonight” You had chuckled, before hanging up. He was on for a big surprise and you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

You texted Mia when you landed. The plan was to sneak you into the house without him noticing, so you could get ready. The boys had finished working out, your boyfriend going to take a shower before the party started. It was the perfect time to go in, following Mia to hers and Thomas’s bedroom.

“I’m so glad you’re here” she said excitedly “He’s going to be so happy to see you (Y/N)” she continued, jumping up and down. “I’ll let you get ready, people are starting to arrive” she said before exiting the door.

You decided to scroll through your phone for a bit before getting ready for the party. Vinnie had just posted a new TikTok of him in the shower, like always, but that was enough to make you melt at the sight of him.

To: Mon Amour❤️👅

Still on set, just saw your TikTok. 👀

How can one human be so handsome 😩 it’s not fair

He had responded soon after, making you smile, while making your way to take a shower as well. When you got out, you could already hear the music blasting downstairs, indicating the party had started. You finished getting ready and texted Thomas to distract your boyfriend while you went to join the girls in the living room. You made sure to stand close to him and his friends, but still far enough to observe him without him noticing you right away.

“Vin, that girl’s been looking at you for the past ten minutes man” Jordan had said, smirking as he saw you on the other side of the room

“Yeah and?” he answered, shrugging his shoulders not turning to look at the girl in question

“She kind of look like (Y/N) if you ask me” his friend had retorted, making the birthday boy stare at the group of girls, spotting you immediately, almost running towards you, smiling widely at the sight of you.

“Is that really you?” he asked, his eyes wide and mouth still agape, you chuckled, pulling him into a hug

“Happy Birthday baby” you murmured in his ear, leaving a kiss below it, the action making him shiver.

“I can’t believe you’re here” he responded, hugging you tightly, before detaching himself a little bit to stare into your eyes. He had this ability to make you melt just by looking at you. He moved his face closer to yours, kissing you passionately. His lips were soft and demanding, he wanted more, and you knew he had missed you as much as you’d missed him.

“Get a room you guys” Michael said, passing the both of you, making you laugh against each other before detaching yourselves. He grabbed your hand, leading you to the beer pong table, where Connor and Calvin were playing and drinking.

It had been an hour since you reunited with Vinnie, and you were still near the beer pong table, talking and laughing with the others. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, scared that if he did, you would disappear. His arms were around your shoulders, staring at the way your mouth was moving while speaking to Michael and Alex.

“Hey yo Vinnie, you’re still with us?” Alex had said, making your boyfriend diverted his gaze towards him, sipping on his red solo cup

“Yeah” he chuckled lightly “Sorry” the boys laughed at him, knowing damn well he was only paying attention to you.

“You’re up next birthday boy” you said, nodding towards the table, where two team had just done playing. You all moved towards the beer pong table, Vinnie playing with Michael and Alex playing with Kouvr. You stayed next to them, watching the scene in front of you. Vinnie was having so much fun, laughing and drinking with his friends, he would often take a glance at you to make sure, you were ok. Alex and Kouvr were losing, Michael laughing at them and Vinnie getting almost every shot he took.

You got lost in the moment, just admiring him, and the way he looked extra good tonight. Even under his white t-shirt, you could see every muscle of him flex. His large hands grasping the ball before shooting it into the cup, making him celebrate the victory with Michael. He caught you staring at him and came right back to stand in front of you.

“Everything’s ok baby?” he asked you, smirking, knowing what it did to you. After a few seconds of silence, he took your hand in his, as you followed him upstairs. He led you towards his bedroom, but you were surprised when he went in and continued walking towards the connected bathroom, closing the door behind you. You stood there, leaning against the counter, Vinnie taking a few steps closer to you, standing centimeters away from your face. His lips found yours quickly, taking control of your mouth easily, your tongues dancing and battling together, Vinnie deepening the kiss. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he pulled away, and redirected his kisses on your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, making you let out a small moan.

“Fuck, I missed you (Y/N)” he murmured against you, pressing his lower half to your aching core. Your hands travelled to his hair, tugging lightly, something you knew he loved for you to do.

“I want you Vin” you whispered in his ears, making him grunt, before he turned you around quickly, making you both look at your reflection in the mirror. You could feel him get impatient, as he pressed his hard member against your covered ass. One of his hands rested on your hip as the other slid down your back, forcing you down into a bending position. You reached down to the end of your dress, lifting it up, for Vinnie to get a better view. He ran a hand through your hair, fisting them, grasping and pulling them gently. A loud moan left your lips at the action, making you back up into him, as he started to grind into you, over and over again.

“V-Vinnie” you mumbled, as he snaked his hand slowly into your damp underwear, making you let out a sight of satisfaction. His skillful fingers found their way to your dripping fold, spreading your arousal on the rest of your needy core. Vinnie kept a steady pace, pumping in and out of you, making you scream in ecstasy. You had been craving his touch for a month now and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore.

“Fuck me already” you said, wanting to feel more of him than his fingers. He bit his lips at the sight of you, begging for more, before yanking your panties down your legs in a quick motion. He unbuttoned his pants quickly, making them drop to the floor, his erection springing free on his covered stomach. He pumped himself a few times, before lining himself at your entrance, your eyes meeting his reflection, your pussy throbbing at what was about to happen. He grabbed your hips, pushing all the way in, your broken moans filling is ears, feeling your tightness around him.

“You’re so tight” he whimpered as you moaned, reaching back to grab onto him. He began to piston his hips harder against yours, making you yelp out in pleasure and surprise, feeling your orgasm approaching. His hand laid a hard smack on your ass, as you bit your bottom lips, trying to contain your moans. You could feel Vinnie’s trusts getting sloppier, indicating he was close as well.

“I’m so close” he almost didn’t hear you. His hand trailed down the front of your body, snaking his fingers down your swollen clit, rubbing it perfectly to bring you over the edge. Your legs started shaking, Vinnie pumping in and out of you, as he rode your orgasm. You clenched around him and the action was enough to make him cum, himself, spilling his loads into you, groaning loudly.

Once you were done, he helped you clean the mess the both of you had made, laughing lightly as you both got dressed.

“Best surprise ever” he said, smiling as he kissed your temple.

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Thanks for reading

Hope you liked it, let me know what you think

-K

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 14

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: The guardians keep trying to include you in various activities to keep your mind off what's troubling you since you won't talk about it. However, one of these activities turns out to have a, shall we say... slightly less than desired outcome.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thank you to @quillsandtypos, @theambracer88, @mcugiggles, @marvelouslyfluffy and all the anons who participated in my questionnaire post! As you probably guessed, I'll be using the answers (and any future ones, if anyone else still wants to play) to complete some fluffy scenes in the story! Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 23 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4,683

Rocket, though he finally had a way to repair the device, had decided to wait a bit before actually doing so. Hell, he had waited this long, certain that his smuggling had been in vain once he found one of the parts had broken on... ahem, "departure," so what was another day or two? It was obvious they were going to be here awhile anyway, so he wasn't too rushed.

One might wonder, how was Rocket able to smuggle anything if SHIELD had searched him, already having found and confiscated contraband he had hidden in his "back pocket?"

Well, Rocket wasn't an idiot. He knew of other ways to smuggle goods on his person. Or, in his person, rather. That being said, maybe to say he wasn't an idiot might be giving him a bit too much credit... Swallowing the pieces of a small data pad might not have been exactly the safest thing to do, though he had given himself a pat on the back for rightfully assuming the Terran's wouldn't think to put him through a body scanner.

He had been damned lucky that nothing had gotten lodged or had punctured any of his innards on the way through, but hey, it worked, didn't it?

Well, mostly.

As said, a part had broken on "departure," which he of course blamed on Gamora and Mantis for rushing him in the bathroom that first day. If that bug-eyed chick didn't have such a tiny bladder then he could have allowed for a more "graceful landing."

No matter, he now had a way to fix it thanks to you. This had admittedly softened his attitude towards you the tiniest bit, though he wasn't going to admit it, nor was he going to completely let his guard down. Use of your workshop was probably just another bribe to win his favor, after all. Just like the bed. He was definitely going to take advantage of it, don't get him wrong. He wasn't just not going to use the tools available to him. Just like he wasn't going to just not sleep in the bed you built him. It was better than sleeping in the crib, though he had been grateful the crib had been left in the room when you left the bed. He had been hiding the pieces of the smuggled device under the crib's mattress -the only good use he saw for it, other than the fact that Groot actually slept pretty well in it- because boy, if the others had found out he had smuggled that in, they would have been pissed. Hence, why he wasn't in too big a hurry to fix it just yet.

Perhaps it couldn't hurt to maybe fix that broken stool in the shed for you, though. Just for a warm up, not because he thought he owed you anything, of course.

***

The evening of the check-in you had found yourself with nothing to do and back in the thoughts that had plagued you since the couple came, and you once again considered pouring yourself a glass or two of whiskey.

Yondu had been leaning against the counter enjoying a snack when he saw you retrieve the bottle from the fridge. Remembering the previous night he raised an eyebrow at you. The last thing he wanted was to witness a repeat, but thought he'd still keep an eye on you. Cut you off again before/if you started to look a little too "weepy." He had doubts that you even remembered what you'd done the previous night, and this was confirmed when he made a lighthearted comment about, "Ya goin' to take it easy tonight, or will I be needin' to cut you off again?" and you raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "What? You didn'- Oh right- I think I do remember you taking my drink now that you mention it," as you set the bottle on the table and went to retrieve a glass from the cupboard.

You now sported a slight blush and, pausing your actions, asked, "I um, didn't say or do anything embarrassing to have warranted that, did I?"

Yondu looked you right in the eye, and lied. "Nope. It was just clear ya had a bit much. Figured I'd save yer wimpy Terran liver." He laughed at your slight pout and added, "Ya just whined at me fer takin' yer drink and then fell asleep. Nuttin' too excitin'."

Yondu could see the relief on your face and it solidified his lack of regret of not telling you. Sure, he might have wanted to crack the mystery to see why you were the way you were, but not like that. He hadn't expected the previous night's display, and if anything, it made him feel like he should back off. Yes, it prompted more burning questions, but even he knew there were some things you just didn't pry into.

Around that time Peter and Kraglin came into the kitchen, messing about and horse-playing. You considered telling them to break it up, but then decided you didn't actually care enough as long as they weren't about to break anything... or anyone. You were about to make your standard polite offer of a drink when suddenly a rip was heard and Peter whined out, "Aw man! You ripped my favorite shirt!"

Sure enough, their rough-housing had managed to rip the seam along the left-shoulder of Peter's dark blue shirt, leaving a sizable hole of a couple inches long that revealed another white shirt underneath.

You rolled your eyes and told him where he could find the sewing kit.

Peter looked at you sheepishly and said, "I don't know how to sew."

You sighed and said, "I guess I'm not doing anything..." and you began to walk towards him and the exit of the kitchen, abandoning the bottle of whiskey on the table without having poured a drink.

Peter took off his ripped shirt and in a surprised voice said, "Oh!- Thanks-" starting to hand you the shirt as you walked past.

You didn't take the shirt, just looked at him as a laugh escaped your throat. "I didn't say I'd do it for you. I meant I'll teach you." With that you cocked your head towards the door and headed out towards the sitting room.

As you walked away you shook your head and muttered something Peter couldn't hear but assumed was an insult as he blushed both from embarrassment at his mistake and from hearing Yondu and Kraglin now laughing at him. He wordlessly followed, not wishing to make more of a fool of himself.

Watching Peter leave, inspiration struck Yondu. It might be overstepping, and might have been a long shot, but it was worth a try. He nudged Kraglin in the arm to get his attention. "Ya remember last night? How things got a little too..." he searched for the right word.

Kraglin finished for him, "Sad? Yeah. I remember." He caught sight of the bottle on the table. "She back at it tonight?" He and Yondu hadn't discussed what happened when he had returned to the kitchen after walking you to your room. It had gone unsaid that you were in a bad way.

"She was gonna," Yondu answered, "but then you two came in and gave her something to distract herself. Might not hurt to keep doing that for a bit."

"Ya wanna keep her busy?" Kraglin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Better than watchin' her drown herself in a bottle," Yondu replied flippantly with a shrug, but Kraglin could see through his blasé attitude.

He was slightly surprised, but not completely opposed to Yondu's suggestion. You had been drinking a lot the past few days. It didn't take a genius to see that something was obviously wrong, and he knew better that drinking like that only made sad feelings worse. If this had been the Eclector, and you part of the crew, he or Yondu would have cut you off well before now once they saw the pit you were digging. You just don't let sad people drink themselves into a stupor. It's bad form. But this wasn't the ship, and you weren't crew, and they couldn't stop you. They were in your house. They've barely known you for three weeks. He knew they couldn't just order you around, but if a little bit of distraction kept him from seeing you looking that sad again and kept you from hiding in the bottom of a bottle, he was for it.

Yondu spoke again, more or less repeating Kraglin's thoughts back at him. "I know we're on her turf, but someone's gotta do somethin'. It's bad form to just let h- to just to let a person drown like that. She needs to get her mind off what's been troubling her."

Kraglin examined the former captain's features. There was something else there. An emotion behind his eyes the first mate was familiar with after years of faithful service. Cap'n might not always be the best at admitting his softer feelings, but Kraglin knew. He could see it.

It was a look similar to the one he wore after he finished telling Rocket just how alike they were, right before they went to fight Ego. It was the same look in his eyes he had shortly after Peter came aboard the Eclector as a boy and it was decided he wasn't going to be delivered to Ego. One Kraglin even thought he recognized being on the receiving end of when he was a younger lad on the crew.

Kraglin smiled, a soft mix of understanding and sadness. "Sir," he said gently.

Yondu grunted in response and glanced at him.

"First, I do agree with ya, we should help keep her mind off it, but I just gotta say this too." He sighed before continuing. He knew Yondu wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but they were alone now, so he felt safe to say it. He knew if he said this in front of anyone else it'd a a surefire way to put Yondu dangerously close to whistling territory. "We can't be getting too attached, now."

Yondu glared at him. "Who said anythin' about-"

"Sir, all respect and all, but I think I can say I know ya better than anyone else here." Kraglin said, having cut Yondu off with a slight chuckle. "I can see it, I can tell when you're getting attached." His tone got slightly more serious, more comforting. "I don't think it'll be good for ya to get too attached, sir. We'll be leaving here eventually, and we know she ain't gonna be coming with us."

Yondu set his mouth in a firm line and stared Kraglin down hard but didn't say anything. He knew his first mate was right, but that didn't mean he had to admit it. Finally he answered with, "I ain't gettin' attached to nuttin' or nobody."

Kraglin sighed. If he knew anything else it was that Yondu could also be stubborn as hell. If he wanted to live in denial, well there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. "Alright, sir," he said with a shake of his head. "I believe ya." He didn't, and his tone betrayed that, earning him a narrowed eyed look from Yondu, but they dropped the conversation, at least for now.

***

Showing Peter how to sew went fairly smoothly. He seemed to grasp the concept well enough, watching you sew the first third of the tear - not the easiest task with your brace on- and then repeating what you had shown him on the rest himself. He finished soon enough and thanked you before leaving the table.

However, almost immediately after that Kraglin showed up with something ripped and asked if you could teach him too. You sighed, and mildly scolded him about how come he couldn't have asked while you were showing Peter, but you agreed regardless. Again, it wasn't exactly the easiest task considering you only had a limited range of motion to move your arm, but you managed. After he finally seemed to get it (he asked a lot of questions, even if he understood, assuming it'd be helpful to keep you occupied for longer) you noticed it had gotten dark out, and you were tired anyway, and so when it looked like he had a handle on it you decided to just go to bed.

***

The next day it seemed like people just kept asking you to do things. Not like they were ordering you around, but more like asking you to do things with them, which they hadn't often done.

It wasn't all bad, but you had the feeling it wasn't just a coincidence that they were seemingly trying to keep you engaged in various tasks and activities after Maria had informed you that one of them had expressed concerns about your well-being. You didn't know if they were now acting on their own or if Fury or Agent Hill had suggested it, but either way you figured you'd just roll with it. If you made an effort maybe they'd be happy and drop it.

That morning, before you realized what was going on, Mantis came to you with a book on plants and asked you to help her identify different plants around the property. You had almost said no, perhaps another time, but then you saw the expectant look on her happy face and decided you had time to kill anyway, so what could it hurt?

It was about when you were asked by Mantis and Drax to join the others for a game of UNO that you started to suspect what was going on.

Before this, Peter had kept coming up to you wanting to show you funny videos he found, having recently discovered the YouTube app on the TV; Yondu had come to you with an archery book and tried making small-talk asking about Terran types of archery; and Gamora and Kraglin asked you to help ref while everyone sparred.

You had agreed to reffing, feeling a little better than you had been all those days you had refused and now therefore not seeing any reason not to.

It was a slight bummer though, needing to sit on the sidelines and watching others train, but you supposed watching them to see if they knew any cool 'space moves' couldn't hurt. Plus, watching how the raccoon was able to hold his own against human-sized opponents was always interesting. Groot sat with you, not being permitted to spar with the others (except for when Rocket would decide to pretend spar with him, just to make him happy) and he was adorable as he played with the grass, so it wasn't all bad.

After that everyone else was pretty much tired, but Groot came up to you with the car you had given him, holding it above his head. You raised an eyebrow and looked to Peter, who informed you that the little guy wanted you to push him on it. You did, because how could you possibly say no to that?

What was cute to Peter, however, was the fact that no one had prompted Groot to do that. He just genuinely wanted you to play with him.

After a while of playing with Groot is when Mantis and Drax had come to you about playing UNO. Now you were getting a hint of what they were doing, but you agreed to play a few games with them anyway. You even caught yourself actually starting to have fun.

Around suppertime Peter came up to you, asking if you could teach him how to cook something. He talked about how he thought it'd be fun to learn to cook more things from his home world, and also reminded you how you did say several times that he could 'help you cook later.'

You sighed and after some more prodding from Peter you finally agreed, asking him what he might like to learn how to cook.

Peter looked like a deer in the headlights before admitting that he didn't actually know. He didn't remember a whole lot of different Terran foods from when he was a kid, and he was now drawing a blank.

You nodded towards the kitchen and told him the two of you would figure it out.

After looking for a bit you decided on a vegetable stew, mostly because this had been unexpected and you hadn't pulled any meat from the freezer to thaw.

Peter was surprisingly not bad at it. He handled the knife safely, he cut the vegetables evenly, and he listened as you told him what to do and when. You wondered if he had some experience cooking before, but you didn't ask.

After dinner Gamora wouldn't take no for an answer on helping with the dishes, of course using your injury as an excuse. You sighed, but allowed it, agreeing to dry while she washed, still under the impression that if you just indulged them for a bit they'd eventually stop and start leaving you along again.

Just as you finished Peter came to the two of you asking if you wanted to see a new movie he found on Netflix.

Figuring it wouldn't hurt to make an effort, you agreed to watching a movie with them and followed into the sitting room, wondering what film he had picked out.

Turned out, he had chosen a horror movie. Candy Man.

You sighed. Obviously you weren't completely immune to jump scares, but you didn't really mind horror movies. You could even go as far to say that you enjoyed most of them. However, you were concerned about Mantis, who you could see sitting happily on the rug in front of the couch next to Rocket as you entered the room.

"Are you sure this movie is appropriate for everyone?" you ask Peter.

"What? You scARed?" Rocket taunted with a smirk, and it was then that you saw Groot on the rug as well, having been sitting in Rocket's lap.

You roll your eyes and explain that your concerns were for the wooden child and Mantis, as your time spent with them hadn't made you very confident that they would recieve a scary movie well. "I'm more concerned the movie's gonna give them nightmares," you explained as you took a seat at the end of the couch.

Gamora seemed to agree with you, but the two of you were outvoted. Rocket just rolled his eyes and snarked that he bet you were scared, and Mantis assured excitedly that she could watch it. Groot, even though you couldn't understand him, also seemed adamant. You had a feeling they didn't really know what they were getting into, but combined with the fact that Mantis was an adult, and Groot wasn't your child, and Peter was doing his best to convince you and Gamora that everything would be fine, you eventually gave in, stating, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. She better not crawl into my bed tonight. I'll send her your way."

Peter just laughed and shook his head, not taking you seriously, before turning out the lights and taking a seat next to Gamora at the other end of the couch. Kraglin took the last available seat between you and Peter and Rocket smarted off again.

"If you're gonna get scared maybe Kraglin will hold your hand!" he laughed as Peter turned on the film.

You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at Kraglin to give the rodent any satisfaction that he might have succeeded in embarrassing you. This, Kraglin was grateful for, because he was sort of an easy blusher, and he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. He just gave Rocket an unamused look, but he was also grateful the lights had been dimmed so that Yondu couldn't see him blushing and then tease him for it. Whether or not the former Ravager captain would actually believe Kraglin might have managed to develop feelings for you wouldn't matter. That fact that Kraglin had just told Yondu the previous night that he shouldn't be getting attached would be enough for him to jump on it and tease the hell out of him purely out of spite.

Despite the movie being old, it was still relatively new to you. You had heard about it, thought you remembered seeing a commercial or maybe a clip or two of it over the years, but this had been your first time actually watching it.

It was about halfway though and nothing terribly scary had happened yet. There was the flashback scene of a little boy having been mutilated that made you cringe, as any show that featured little kids being harmed always hit a sore spot, but it didn't really show much more than a bloody bathroom.

You were starting to think it probably wasn't going to be any real scary scenes, but then Candyman started to call the college lady's name, and it actually made you fight a shiver. You didn't know why, but creepy sounds were one of the few things from a film that could actually strike fear in your heart. Thankfully it didn't last long. You weren't looking forward to being teased for jumping or shivering at a movie that wasn't really even that scary.

At least it would mean that Mantis would be unlikely to crawl into your bed scared tonigh-

Candyman just shoved his hook through the college lady's medicine cabinet.

Half of everyone jumped, including you. Among those startled was Kraglin, and he shot you a glance that you purposely didn't return, not wanting to answer to any cocky smiles or teases accusing you of being scared.

A shot came on the screen centering on the baby Candyman took and you tensed, worried he was going to kill it, but you were relieved to see that he only let it suckle on his finger.

Kraglin felt you tense and then relax beside him, and he frowned, remembering the other night. He considered asking if you were alright, but then thought better of it and held his tongue, instead watching on as a scene played where the lady was now stuck in a mental hospital, having been believed to have killed her best friend and said baby from the previous scene.

Yondu didn't think he liked this movie, but he continued to watch in silence. He didn't want to see kids being hurt, and he had also tensed at the previous scene. Like you, he was sure that the bad guy was about to kill the baby. However, as he was sitting in his usual spot in the armchair, his tension went unnoticed.

Mantis let out a short scream when the lady summoned Candyman and he killed the psychiatrist. You sighed, realizing this wasn't looking good for her staying in her own bed tonight. Little did Peter know, you hadn't been kidding. If she tries to crawl in with you, you're sending her right to him, seeing as it would be his fault.

The lady was now exploring Candyman's lair, and you started to get a little tense at the creepy sounds of his breathing, and you mentally cursed whoever mixed the sound for this movie.

You got even more tense and fidgety when he opened his robe to reveal a ribcage full of bees. You only hoped no one noticed to tease you for it. Body horror was another thing that never failed to make you shudder.

Eventually the movie started to come to a close, a scene played where the lady's jerk ex-fiancé was having flashbacks to how good he had it with her now that she was dead, and you thought it was just going to end on a sad note.

That is, until he said her name, Helen, five times in the mirror (just like Candyman) and she came back and killed him with the Candyman's hook. Her sudden appearance made you startle slightly, and you heard more squeals from Mantis. You sighed again. Yep, she was definitely not going to sleep tonight.

The movie was finally over and Peter got up to turn on the lights. He turned to see you giving him a glare and he smiled. "What? Was it too scary for you?" he jeered.

You just pointed down to Groot. He had his head buried in Rocket's chest and was softly whimpering. "I told you that movie wasn't for kids."

Rocket scoffed at you and told you he would be fine, then turned it on you, saying how he felt you jump at least three times from where he was sitting.

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, turning to Peter and this time gesturing to Mantis, who still looked a bit shaken. "I meant what I said. She tries to crawl in bed with me, I'm sending her to you," you say, leaving to go to go get ready for bed, both because it was now late, and to avoid any inevitable further teasing from Rocket.

The others seemed to have much the same idea about bedtime, and a few of them followed you up the stairs.

You let Mantis shower first, hopeful that if you went after her that she might hopefully be asleep by the time you got out. However, when you finished your own shower, Peter had thought it'd be funny to jump-scare you as you exited the bathroom, grabbing your shoulders and shouting, "CANDYMAN'S GOTCHA!" which resulted in you jumping a mile with a noise you'd deny was a shriek before you turned to punch him in the arm scolding, "Damn you!"

He, along with Rocket, only responded by laughing their asses off at you. You thought you could also hear Drax's own booming laughter down the hall from his room, and you caught a glimpse of Yondu and Kraglin sharing amused glances and snickering from their shared room.

Your face getting warm at the fact that he had actually managed to get you pretty good, you then just storm off to your room, ignoring Rocket's teases that he bet that you'd be the one crawling into Mantis's bed tonight.

You shut the bedroom door behind you to see Mantis awake and clutching her bear for dear life. Whether she was just already awake due to nerves or you had woken her with your startled cry, you didn't know, but you flicked on your desk lamp for her, turned out your overhead light and crawled into bed without a word.

Sometime later, long enough for you to have drifted off into a decently sound enough sleep to be dreaming, you were startled awake by someone crawling into your bed.

Guess who. That's right. Mantis.

You groaned and turned to see she had already crawled halfway into your bed before you stopped her by rousing. "Mantis," you groaned, pointing towards the door, "go climb into Peter's bed. He's the one that chose the movie."

Mantis tucked her chin sheepishly and admitted she had already tried that, but his and Gamora's door had been locked.

You stared at the ceiling and sighed. Clever bastard.

You made a mental note to squirt lemon juice in his coffee in the morning before letting out another groan. "Ugh, fine. But just this once," you allowed, ignoring the fact that this would actually technically be the second time. You were also not actually quite as salty as you let on. If anything, you should maybe thank her for waking you from a bad dream involving the Candyman's ribcage full of bees, but you weren't going to tell her that.

She smiled gratefully and thanked you as she snuggled in.

You sighed quietly and Mantis fell asleep quickly. At least she didn't snore.

You spent the next bit before you fell asleep yourself contemplating different ways that you might be able to annoy Peter for sufficient payback.

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sound of Silence - The Maze Runner Newt Imagine

Request from @ausblack: was wondering if you could write a newt x reader where she’s like the new greenie and the only girl. Everyone think she’s mute because she never talked and Newt decides to take care of her since he’s the only one she seems comfortable with. One day another glader attacks her making her scream and for some reason Newt recognizes that it’s her, he gets protective and helps her out. Eventually she speaks her first words to him and they both get together in the end 

Masterlist

Warning: Some mature language

Author’s Note: Sorry I haven’t posted in...a while. If it helps, you can think of me as a turtle. I’m damn slow and it’s pretty frustrating to wait but I’ll get there in the end! I hope I did this idea some justice because I thought it was pretty cool. Thank you for the request, I’m always open! (just remember the turtle analogy.) 

:)

Word Count: 3.6k

You stood in darkness. There was nothing in the darkness except for a quiet hum that rumbled the floor and the walls and the ceiling. It was power, some type of power that was running through this room and making it rise.

You stood in darkness. And you waited.

You weren’t alone, because your fear was so strong it had formed an icy hand, which wrapped around your throat, so tight it was hard to breathe. It took every ounce of your concentration to inhale, and exhale, and inhale again, and all the while the box hummed and rose, and you stood in darkness.

The hum cut off abruptly, the room halting with it. You strained your ears, and, through the loud beating of your heart, you could hear voices. Four heartbeats passed before the roof opened and the room was flooded with light.

You cringed away, raising a hand to block the brightness. Through squinted eyes, you saw boys encircling the room, level with where the roof would have been. Their voices floated down, gasps and shouts of “It’s a girl!”, and the sounds of shoving, bodies against bodies.

You took a step back, but there were boys above you there too. They were everywhere. One jumped down, making the whole box shake, and then you were turning around and around, looking for a break in the boys, a spot you could run through, someone to help, anything, anything, anything--

“It’s alright, love. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You whipped around to face the boy. He had his hands raised, and his eyebrows were knit together in sympathy. He had a kind face, with soft brown eyes.

Even so, any words you had were caught in your throat, caught by fear’s hand, trapped. Trapped, just like you. Your breaths came faster, your heartbeat quicker. Your hands trembled.

Across from you, the boy took a step back and looked up at the others. “Right, all you bloody slintheads need to back up!” He looked at one of the boys closest to the box. “Alby?”

The boy, Alby, nodded, then shouted, “Everyone, back to work!”

The crowd didn’t move. Your heart stopped. Your blood went cold.

Then, with a chorus of grumblings, the mob slowly dispersed. Boys peeled off this way and that, revealing grassy fields and large mountains in the distance. You peered closer. No, not mountains. 

Walls.

“It’s a strange story, love, but we’ll tell you all of it,” the first boy said. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the walls.

“I’m Newt. D’you remember your name?”

No. You’d realized in the darkness that you couldn’t remember anything. You felt strangely detached, like you were watching some other girl with no memories who was abducted and brought to a strange place. You felt pity for her. You felt sad for her. And you kept drifting along, only half-listening to the boy next to her, the one who said his name was Newt.

Newt stepped closer. You watched the girl watch him, watched his mouth move, watched the girl take light, careful steps to the edge of the box and climb out. You watched her stumble.

It was the feeling of Newt’s hand on your back, steadying you, that brought you back to reality.

“I’ll take you on the tour, love,” he said to you, pulling his hand back. In a soft voice, he added, “Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

Your lips parted. Words sat on the tip of your tongue. Are you sure and How do you know and Please be right. And, also, lingering in the back, Thank you.

You swallowed and looked away from Newt.

He started walking. He kept a slow pace, both because of his limp and so he could intermittently point out buildings and people. “That’s Frypan, he’s the cook, and there’s the kitchen. Next to that’s the Homestead. You’ll be sleeping there.”

He spoke with such authority that you wanted to ask what his role in this little society was. If there was a cook, there must be a leader, and you hadn’t seen any adults around. But your tongue wouldn’t move, so all you could do was tilt your head to the side and look at Newt.

He scanned your face, then nodded. “I’m Second-in-Command. Alby’s in charge, but he won’t raise a fuss about you sleeping in the Homestead. We…” Newt ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before making eye contact again. “We haven’t…” He sighed. “You’re the only girl here. We don’t really know how the rest of those shanks will react.” Noticing your instinctive recoil, Newt hastened to say, “But you’ll be okay. Most of these lot are good guys. And the ones that aren’t...Well, they know the consequences. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

There was that fear again, running its hands along your arms, past your shoulders, to your neck. It squeezed painfully around your throat, so painfully that tears threatened to spring up in your eyes. You gave Newt a quick nod and looked away, into the fields he was leading you toward.

He read you like a book and quickly switched topics. “These are the Gardens. When I don’t have other duties, I like to come out here. It’s good work, but it’s also just a good place to be. It’s peaceful.” 

A short, round boy darted out of a row of tomato plants, cackling madly. Lumbering behind him was a tall boy with a shock of curly blond hair, who shouted, “Come back here, Chuck!” The younger boy, Chuck, gave no indication that he’d heard. He disappeared back into the plants, with the tall boy following him.

Newt sighed. “It’s mostly bloody peaceful,” he grumbled.

The smallest of smiles twitched your lips up. You forced them back down, reminding yourself that you were scared, that you couldn’t trust anyone here, and that the way Newt grinned down at you did not make you feel safe.

“We’ll have you start working here tomorrow, all right, love?” Newt asked.

You chewed on your lip, staring over the plants. Your eyes landed on the tomatoes, right where the boisterous duo had gone through. Flutters of anxiety filled your stomach.

“I’ll be with you. There won’t be anything to worry about.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Besides waking up with no memory, that is,” Newt added.

Your lips betrayed you again. Newt grinned, and the butterflies that had been flying inside your chest slowly started to settle down.

Newt led you through the rest of the Glade. You saw the Deadheads and the Blood House, learned about the various jobs and Keepers, and, through it all, you didn’t say a single word. Newt never pushed you. Instead, he watched for facial expressions. He responded to any tap on the arm or flick of your chin. He lingered in the comfortable silences.

As you sat in your room in the Homestead that night, knowing that Newt was asleep in the next room over, you felt your shoulders loosen, just a little. The fear was still there. It still held your throat tightly in its grasp. But you felt a trickle of hope springing in the cracks.

You woke the next morning to a knock on your door. Opening it, you saw Newt.

“Ready to get to work, love?”

You nodded. The smile you gave him was uneasy and weak, nervous and gone in a flash, but it made Newt’s eyes shine with happiness. He smiled the whole way to the Gardens. Under the shining sun, you weeded plants, hoed new rows, and picked vegetables.

Newt stuck by your side. He explained more about the Glade; all you had to do was point to a person or a place and he’d run through it, even if he’d already explained the other day. A few times, you found yourself picking out things you already knew, just so you could keep hearing his voice.

“And then Chuck convinced Minho and Thomas,” Newt said between laughs. Behind him, the sun sat heavy on the horizon, haloing him in gold. “He convinced Minho and Thomas to take the rest of Gally’s clothes and--” Newt broke off, devolving into laughter.

You hadn’t met Minho and Thomas yet -- they’d been busy in the Maze all day yesterday and in the Runner’s Hut all last night -- but you’d heard a lot about them from Newt by now. You’d also heard about “Captain” Gally, and you figured he probably deserved whatever ended up happening to his clothes.

Beneath the cover of Newt’s voice, you felt comfortable letting out a small laugh. It was the first noise you’d made in the Glade.

Slowly, Newt’s laughter stopped. He stared at you, eyes soft, his lips pulled up in a small, pleased smile. He didn’t say anything.

You looked down at the basket in your hands, trying to stop yourself from blushing.

After a second, Newt said, “Before we go to dinner, there’s one last place I want to show you.” He took the basket from you and handed it off to Zart, the Keeper of the Gardens.

The pair of you headed off towards the far wall, away from the buggy Gardens, the dark woods, and the noisy kitchen, where a hungry horde of Gladers clamored to get their dinner.

“It’s not one of the really important places,” Newt said as you walked, “so I didn’t show it to you yesterday.” His hands swung awkwardly at his sides, as though he wanted to reach one out, maybe to guide you, maybe to hold you, but couldn’t decide whether he should or not. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted him to or not.

All you did was nod.

Newt continued, “But I think, maybe, it could be good.”

As you neared the wall, you felt your stomach drop at the sheer size. You craned your head back and back and back, trying to see the top, trying to see if any ivy led all the way up. How could there ever be a way out of those walls?

A warm hand touched your arm.

Your head shot back down, eyes landing on Newt’s. The faintest pink burned on his cheeks, a glow from the sunset, maybe, or... You shook the thought out of your mind as he pointed to the wall.

Carved into the wall in front of you were names. Immediately, your gaze landed on Newt’s. Next to his, Alby’s name was done in blocky letters. Thomas and Minho had made their marks. Chuck’s name was squeezed between the two, as he often was in real life, when he’d inject himself into their days. You recognized enough names to figure out that every Glader had been here once and had left a permanent memento of themselves. Some of those mementos, like the ones with a single sharp line running through them, had already outlasted their creators.

“I thought, I don’t know...I thought maybe seeing other names would help you remember yours.” Newt rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. 

Your heart felt warm in your chest. Yearning took over. You reached a hand out, tracing the closest names, looping through the letters, dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s. You wanted to remember.

Please remember. Remember for Newt. Remember for me.

You pulled your hand away and pointed to Newt’s side, where his knife was strapped. He unsheathed it out without a moment’s hesitation. When he handed it to you, his fingers brushed over yours and you could swear your heart stopped. You had to fight to keep your composure, especially with the feeling of his intense stare as he watched you carve the first letter of your name into the wall.

You felt, rather than saw, Newt step closer to you. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his smile almost took the breath out of you. Your hand stilled as you finished the first letter.

Newt repeated it, sounding almost awed. “Keep going, love.”

Forcing your eyes away from him, you continued carving. Each letter of your name was done with precision, right below Newt’s. It felt fitting to do it there, like he was some guardian angel looking over you, keeping you safe. Being around him made you feel...the English language wasn’t sophisticated enough to describe it. You felt warm. And calm. And the kind of happiness that made your cheeks hurt and your jaw ache, even when you weren’t smiling.

When you finished, Newt said your name, his voice reverent. “Y/N.” He repeated it. He glanced down at you. “Am I saying it right, love?”

He’d gotten closer than you’d thought. His breath nearly hit the tips of your eyelashes. If you moved only a few inches you’d be touching him.

You nodded.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded again. He was so close you felt dizzy. You would’ve agreed to just about anything he said at that point.

“Are you able to speak?”

Your nod was more hesitant this time, slowed by dread for his next question.

“Why don’t you?”

You wanted to look away but his eyes had a hypnotic hold on you. You shrugged half-heartedly. How could you explain that every time you tried to speak your throat closed up? That your mouth went dry and you forgot every word you knew? That your heart started beating erratically, and your palms began to sweat, and it felt like walls were closing in, and you felt the fear again?

Newt nodded. He took a step back, the tension in the air dissolving. Jutting his chin at the wall, he said your name again. A smile crept onto his face. It was that soft, sweet smile that had gotten you through your first days in the Glade.

It got you through the next week, too. A week spent trying other jobs, where your lack of communication proved rage-inducing for a certain captain and ultimately landed you back in the Gardens.

It was rare that Newt wasn’t by your side. Today, though, he and Alby were caught up in meetings with the other Keepers, trying to figure out how to discipline a Glader who’d been making inappropriate comments and trying to instigate fights.

Newt had told you the basics the other day. You hadn’t wanted him to go into detail. He’d seen that on your face and quickly switched to telling you about the first crops they’d tried to plant, which had been such a disaster that the Creators sent up multiple books on farming the next month. The conversation was much lighter from then on.

Being with Newt was so easy. Most of the others pushed you too hard to talk, which only made your throat dry up and your tongue feel like lead. You wanted to talk with them, sometimes, but...you couldn’t get the words out. You couldn’t think of them when it came time to speak. You had a mental block, barricades set up to keep you from feeling too comfortable here. Part of you needed to feel the fear that came with trying to speak. If you stopped being afraid, you’d start getting complacent.

The sound of the Walls grating to a close struck the same feeling in you, even though you were safe in the Gardens, well away from the terrors of the Maze.

“Y/N.” Zart’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “Good job today. Some of the other shanks left a bunch of tools out, could you bring them to the shed? I have to track down Chuck.” His normally placid expression morphed into a scowl as he shook his head, his blond mop of hair flopping over his forehead.

You nodded. The two of you split off among the rows, Zart’s cursing fading as you approached a scattering of trowels and rakes.

You pursed your lips in disappointment before stooping down and trying to gather everything. You ended up with two rakes and a hoe tucked under your right arm, a few trowels held close to your chest, and a sharp hand pruner held carefully in your left hand.

Boys.

You huffed as you headed for the shed. It was a crudely constructed building that was made in the first few weeks of the Glade’s existence. You’d heard some other boys say that the first Gladers originally slept here, but Newt hadn’t mentioned it so you weren’t sure how true that was. If they had slept there, you didn’t envy them. It was smaller than your room in the Homestead, which was a far cry from large. You supposed it was in a nice enough location, though; it stood on the edge of the Gardens, close enough to the woods to catch some shade, but not so deep that you were alone.

As you neared the shed, you saw that you actually weren’t alone. A figure paced next to it, head bent low, features hard to make out.

You purposely tried to walk louder as you came closer, hoping you wouldn’t scare him. At the sound of a twig crunching under your foot, his head shot up.

You’d definitely seen him before; he had thick, dark eyebrows and a strong jaw. The bruise forming under one of his eyes was new, as was his now crooked nose. You were pretty sure his name was Connor.

“Y/N,” he said, stilling in his tracks. He made no move to help you carry the tools.

You nodded, gave him a tight smile, and headed for the door. One of the rakes almost slipped from under your arm, but you squeezed it tightly and took a few hurried steps.

Connor crossed in front of you. You veered to the side. His arm shot out and grabbed your shoulder, hard enough to jostle it and send the rakes and hoe tumbling to the ground.

“You think you’re better than me or something?” He was speaking quickly, too quickly, you didn’t have a chance to respond or adjust the trowels that were slipping through your grasp or push him away. In one quick movement, he turned and slammed you into the shed wall. Two trowels dropped. You clutched the rest closer, your breaths turning into nervous pants.

“Is that why you don’t talk? You think you’re better than me? Than us?” Conor loomed over you. He glowered at you, his eyes afire with rage. “Answer me.” He slammed you back again. Your head cracked into the wall and you let out a soft whimper.

“So you can talk.” His grip was vice-like on your shoulders. His nails dug into your flesh like he wanted to tear you apart. “So why don’t you talk? Why don’t you fucking talk?” Again, he slammed you into the wall.

Were you crying? Were you talking? Were you making any noise at all?

Were you even breathing?

“You make this place even harder to be in. We don’t need some fucking mysterious mute bitch when we have to solve the Maze. Don’t you get it? You’re a distraction!” Every few words were punctuated with a slam. The air whooshed out of your lungs in a pathetic cry for help.

You’d never tried harder to talk.

But now there was so much fear in you. Not existential fear -- real, in-your-face danger.

One of Connor’s hands released your shoulder. It ached in relief until his fingers wrapped around your throat and he leaned in close to say, “Fine. Don’t talk.” And he squeezed.

Each second was an eon. Your lungs screamed for air. Blackness lingered on the edges of your vision, closing in, closing in, closing in, leaving only a pinprick of light. Your legs went numb, as if they’d just fallen asleep, and the feeling worked its way up your body, down your arms, to your hands, where the last trowel and the hand pruner were about to fall.

Hand pruner.

You had no more air, you had no more energy, and yet your body was moving and you were thrusting the sharp end of the hand pruner into Connor’s gut.

He let you go with a cry, curling over and holding his stomach. Air rushed into your lungs, only to leave a second later as you screamed, “Help!”

Connor groaned and straightened up enough to launch a clumsy fist at you. You twisted to the side. Your foot caught on a gardening tool, sending you sprawling to the ground, clambering away on hands and knees, still gasping for air.

A wet hand grabbed your ankle. You kicked, connecting with something solid, and yelled out, “Someone help!” The hand left your ankle for a second, then you heard something heavy moving in the grass, and the hand clamped down on your calf.

You tried to wriggle away. People were coming from the Gardens, you could see their black silhouettes as the sun set behind them. You heard your name, shouted by your rescuers and growled by Connor. You kicked at him again. His other hand caught your foot, using you to pull his body further onto your legs.

He was heavy. He slammed a fist into your back, knocking you flat.

“Get off of her!” Your rescuers closed in. They wrenched Connor off and surrounded him. Warm hands, soft hands, gentle hands, helped you stand. Connor’s blood rolled down the backs of your legs.

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, his voice frantic. He held you, his touch like feathers on your arms, as he scanned your body up and down, looking for any injuries. “Is that--” he started to ask, staring at your legs. Mid-sentence, Newt turned away, calling for a Med-jack.

“It’s not mine,” you interrupted him. The words were hoarse and quiet but audible, and Newt whipped back around to face you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

His touch slid down your arms, his hands enveloping your own. “I knew that was you yelling,” he said. His eyebrows lowered and his face grew serious. “I knew it was your voice. I knew it was you, love.”

Words hung on the tip of your tongue. Words you’d meant to say your first day in the Glade. Words you’d wanted to say every day since. Words that you could never get out. “Thank you,” you finally said.

Newt smiled, so wide and so bright that your heart started beating like you were sprinting. “I’ll always be here for you, love.”

The distance between the two of you was quickly fading. “I know you will,” you said, and then, again, “Thank you.” A second later, your lips met. And you felt like thanking him all over again.

[mcwriting]

just say I Do

I have been super active lately which is vv weird for me but this has been in my drafts all summer and I thought now was a good time to post it since wedding season is coming to a close :)

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2945

Warnings: alcohol mention; slight angst with happy ending

§

She was a walking red flag from the moment she refused to laugh at your jokes.

Sure that sounds like a stupid reason, but more little "quirks," as Tom liked to call them, made themselves present the more he talked about Alaina.

He had been one of your best friends for years, but now he refused to listen.

"She doesn't trust us to hang out anymore?" you had asked incredulously.

"No, no. She's just insecure with the idea of us being alone together. That's all," he tried to reassure you. "I want to prove that I'm trustworthy."

Insecure

Code for "I don't trust you at all but I'm gonna keep using you for my benefit."

She had no reason not to trust him. You'd been in the friendzone for years and neither of you would ever cross a boundary. He was the most trustworthy person you knew.

After a couple weeks of his blatant ignorance of each red flag, you decided saving him from this relationship could never happen. You'd just have to let him drown in it.

So, you kept your mouth shut and ears open every time you hung out as he dumped all of her problems onto you. She'd turned him into her personal therapist and now you'd become his.

Regardless of how much you'd tried to extend an olive branch to her, she denied it every time, continually trying to push you away from her and, subsequently, Tom.

After months of this, yours and Tom's friendship eventually phased itself out.

Years of memories left in the dust .

You were almost happy, though. No more emotional trauma dumps every time you hung out with Tom. No more unnecessary hostility from Alaina. No more hiding your long-standing feelings.

You'd actually tried to tell him how you felt months earlier, but that got squashed when the "big news" he needed to tell you was that he had met someone. That "someone" being Alaina, of course.

You'd finally decompressed from all of the Tom drama when life decided to ramp up again as Harrison popped the all-important question to your female best friend, Rebecca.

The day after his proposal, she'd asked you to be maid of honor and you were quickly thrown into helping plan a wedding.

So you did your job: dress shopping, party planning, and shower throwing.

One unfortunate happenstance was that Tom was Harrison's best man, meaning that you had to see him again, especially within the month before the ceremony.

However, as the month moved forward, you and Tom had reconnected, your friendship much more lighthearted than how you'd left it previously. While Tom still talked about Alaina on occasion, he was no longer dumping everything onto you.

She still showed up to certain things, like a wedding shower and some parties, but you were mostly able to avoid her hostility and focus on Rebecca and Harrison.

Finally, after months and months of planning, the rehearsal dinner came, and you were almost hoping they'd just sign the papers that night and call it a wedding.

You were in the bridal suite touching up your lipstick as Rebecca and Harrison talked with the minister when Alaina appeared behind you, arms crossed.

"What's your angle, y/l/n?"

You furrowed your brows but didn't turn around, continuing to carefully apply the liquid lip as you just looked at her reflection.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sister. I'm just here to watch my best friend get married tomorrow."

"Don't play dumb. I know you're trying to get between me and Tom," she huffed.

"I can guarantee that's not what's going on here. We're friends again. That's all."

"You've been trying to squeeze your way into our relationship ever since it started. Forcing Tom to hang out with you alone, always texting him..."

You screwed the lipstick shut and stood up, whipping around to interrupt her.

"I'm sorry, what? I never forced him to do anything. He and I actually started communicating less once you two got together. You know, I knew you were insecure but I didn't think it was this bad."

"Well you've still been trying to pry us apart, even after your little friendship hiatus."

"Honey, I'm the reason he even asked you to make it official. He was too scared of committing, but I told him to pull the trigger and make you his girlfriend. Now I get that you have family trauma and the whole thing with your parents but-"

When she cut you off you knew you'd made a mistake. She wasn't supposed to know what all Tom had told you.

"You know what about me?"

You took in a sharp breath, unsure how to answer. An awkward pause fell between you.

"Everything. I know almost every damn thing about you. You were using Tom as a therapist and he took it to me. And I'm sorry about everything that's happened to you but I was almost glad when you forced me out of his life for a little bit because it meant I could finally deal with my own problems for once."

She continued to stare at you, stunned.

I- everything?" she breathed. You nodded, somber. "Why would he do that?"

"Dude. We were best friends for years. Told each other everything. Always went to each other to talk through the deep stuff. He didn't really know how to handle the stuff you were telling him. I wouldn't blame him for wanting to tell someone."

"But you know all this... stuff about me!"

"And those things aren't what shaped my opinion of you! Sure, it gave me some insight into your personality, but you can't let that stuff define you. You aren't going to get any real help dumping it all on your boyfriend, either."

"What are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I'm saying that him telling me everything shouldn't be the real problem here. The problem is that the whole relationship is toxic. Break up or don't, but you both need help. Tom isn't your therapist and if that's all you want him for then he shouldn't be your boyfriend. You both deserve better."

Each of you sat in that statement for a moment. After all of the frustration and anger, you'd chosen to channel it into something constructive.

Alaina had a look of defeat. You'd expected anger from her after everything.

"Yeah. Maybe we do. I just can't believe I couldn't trust him with the most important things in my life. Maybe I shouldn't have been trying to keep you apart all this time. I really should've been getting you together."

"What? No, Alaina don't say that-"

"Do you know where Tom is?"

"Come on don't do this right now-"

"Y/n just tell me where he is."

"I- You were the last one with him as far as I know. You came in here after I did."

In silence, she nodded and exited, leaving you alone again with a pit in your stomach.

You quickly tried to straighten yourself out, taking one last look in the mirror before you walked out and faked a smile.

"Oh! There you are! We're gonna get started on the rehearsal now!" Rebecca said as she caught you in the hall. "Just head outside and if you see Tom, tell him to come, too."

You did see him as you headed that way. His lips were pressed into a tight grimace as Alaina quietly talked to him near the building's entrance.

His eyes caught yours briefly and you gestured your head towards the alter, tapping your wrist. He gave a small nod of recognition and Alaina turned to see you in the distance, giving you a sad grin.

Tom started to tell her that he needed to go rehearse when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Bye, Tom. Keep in mind what I told you," she said, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek before walking off to her car, leaving for good.

You could tell he trying not to seem sad as he followed not far behind you to join everyone else.

When Rebecca returned, she was excitedly telling everyone the plan for walking down the aisle, deciding to pair bridesmaids with groomsmen as there was an equal number.

The pit in your stomach grew when you realized that meant you and Tom would be paired together.

The pairs lined up, you and Tom having to be last. You knew it would take a while when the flower girls took forever to walk the aisle and the first male/female pair couldn't figure out their cue.

Your arm was looped in Tom's but you had never felt so apart from him. Both of you were stiff, trying not to move too much.

"Alaina dumped me," he finally whispered, leaning over to tell you, as your heels brought you close to his height.

Your head stayed forward as your gaze fell to the ground.

"I figured as much. I tried to talk her out of it but... you know."

"Yeah."

There was another heavy silence.

"I'm really sorry, Tom," you started, but he cut you off.

"Don't. We just need to focus on Becca and Haz," he bit back, stone-faced.

You wanted to say something more, but you were cut off by Rebecca telling you your cue and getting you to walk the aisle in sync.

You couldn't look at Tom the rest of the night and hardly touched your dinner as your thoughts ran wild of how to make things up to him.

You couldn't tell Rebecca what happened. This was her time to shine, and you figured if Tom were to tell Harrison anything, it would just be that they'd broken up.

A couple speeches were made about the happy couple and finally it was over, all of you nervously ready for the real ceremony tomorrow.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you made it out without talking to Tom again.

The next morning, things ramped up as the bridal party got ready while sipping mimosas. Everything felt frantic because you felt the need to supervise and take stress off the bride.

It didn't help that you were still stressing over Tom.

You went into the bathroom to catch your breath, trying to maintain a positive facade.

When you stepped out, you found Rebecca looking beautiful as ever in front of you, but you quickly recognized the look on her face.

"Lets go to the balcony real quick. I feel like we need to talk."

You followed her out, both of your robes flowing in a soft breeze as the sun shone down happily. She handed you another mimosa as she leaned over the railing.

"Harrison told me about Tom. Said it was a pretty big deal."

You groaned, trying not to facepalm over your freshly done makeup.

"Becca we shouldn't be talking about this right now. We need to focus on your wedding-" you started, reaching for the door handle.

"Y/n. I want to talk about this. And I hear you're supposed to listen to the bride on her wedding day," she chuckled. You rolled your eyes and smirked.

"Fine. Yeah, they broke up. And it's all my fault and Tom's probably pissed at me but whatever. It's fine."

"From what I hear he's not as mad as he probably should be. It's been a long time coming, you were just the catalyst. Just think how much longer it would've taken for them to pull their heads outta their asses without you."

"He's not mad?"

"Doesn't sound like it. I think you guys need to talk about it, though."

You sighed.

"We will, eventually. We both agreed yesterday that we just need to focus on you two right now."

"You know that's gonna be hard, right? I mean, you're both gonna be stuck together from pictures up until after the ceremony."

"Yeah, yeah. I promise I won't ruin your wedding. Can't speak for Tom, though," you joked, holding your glass up towards hers.

"I'll take your word for it," she replied, clinking her own glass against yours.

§

The bride and groom weren't ones for superstition, so you took wedding photos before the ceremony to maximize lighting and time with the guests later.

You didn't talk to Tom at all, but neither of you could keep from making quick eye contact between shots.

Finally the time had came for guests to begin arriving and the big moment to actually come.

After some last minute touch ups, the wedding party greeted guests as the countdown began. Once things were in place, you all went back into the building to line up, ready to start.

Again, you and Tom were linked together, waiting in bated breath.

"Alaina told me something yesterday before she left," Tom whispered.

You hummed in response.

"Yeah. Said I never really loved her."

"What makes her think that?" you asked, trying to pay attention to those ahead of you in line as music started playing outside.

"She told me I probably loved you," he replied casually.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him in shock. Again you wanted to reply but Tom tugged your arm and started stepping forward.

"Oh, looks like it's our time to shine."

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked down the aisle, seeing familiar faces as a blush rose to your cheeks before you both separated at the alter, leaving an empty spot between you and Harrison.

You pretty much forgot all of the nervousness when you watched your beautiful best friend come down the aisle with her dad. Harrison was tearing up and you were fighting back your own.

The ceremony began and throughout it, you and Tom continued to look past the couple and steal glances of each other.

When the vows finally came, you actually were crying, pulling a hidden tissue from your bouquet to dab your eyes as you watched with a watery grin. They had written their own vows.

You still couldn't help but watch Tom, though, as the two professed their love in front of everyone.

When they finished, the minister was given the rings and the most important part came.

"Now, Harrison, do you take Rebecca to be your wife? Will you love and cherish her for the rest of your days?"

The groom said I do, but you could only see Tom mouthing the same words to you.

When Rebecca was asked the same thing, you couldn't help but mouth the same words, too.

With that came a kiss and the declaration of marriage, with each couple again pairing off to run down the aisle.

You didn't have time to talk to Tom though, as you were whisked away with the bridal party to have a glass of celebratory wine before dinner as you waited to enter the reception.

That dinner again went on without a hitch, with both you and Tom making pre-written speeches about the couple before the first dance.

Once the DJ turned up the music, everyone was out on the dance floor having a good time when he slowed it down again for couples to dance to.

You were prepared to walk off when a hand caught your arm.

It was Tom.

"Dance with me," he beckoned, and you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You slow danced in silence, trying to figure out what to say as he twirled you around.

"So..." you started.

"Don't feel bad about Alaina," he immediately replied.

"But I'm the reason you broke up."

"No, I am. You were right that neither of us were handling things correctly. I should have never told you her personal business behind her back. I'm sorry for doing that to you, too."

You gave a lopsided grin.

"It's okay. I get why you did. I'm probably the best person you could've gone to anyways. I'm guessing you also apologized to her?"

"Yeah. I did last night but then I called her this morning and we talked it out. We should've broken up a long time ago. I wish I had listened to you back then."

You raised your brows.

"So you actually remember all the stuff I pointed out?"

"Just because I ignored it doesn't mean I didn't hear it. I was just too stupid and puppy-blind to see how much you actually cared."

You hummed as you wrapped both hands around his neck, stepping a little closer. He rubbed your back as he went to speak again.

"She was right, too. You are the one I really love. I meant it when I said 'I do.'"

"So I didn't just imagine that?"

"Just as much as I imagined you replying," he smirked. You smiled and bit your lip.

"I never wanted you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you the day you told me about her."

"It's probably for the best."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" You were confused at what he meant.

"Because now everyone we know can see firsthand that you're the one I love," he answered.

You were about to ask what that meant when he tipped up your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the song ended. When you pulled away people were moving around so that Rebecca could throw the bouquet.

"You know what?" she announced. "I think I just need to do this."

Everyone watched as she marched over and handed you the bouquet directly, causing cheers to ring out around you.

"Now you just gotta say I do!" she exclaimed.

You looked up at Tom and he smiled down at you.

"I did."

§

A/N: okay half of me hates this bc I can't imagine how obnoxious this would be if it happened in real life but also it's kinda 🥺

Lemme know how you feel! Wedding szn had me in my feels again this year so I couldn't resist. If you liked this I'd suggest checking out the objection because it's also got angsty wedding vibes oop

Permanent Tag List

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh, @hollandswife

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Gloved hand (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair found a way to get rid of his chip, and went looking for his brothers in the depot, fully aware of the confrontation that would follow.

No pairing or reader description, only the member of the Batch

Word count: 2761

CW/TW: ANGST; Death, trauma, guilt, violent memories/ nightmares, burns/scar, some swearing; I don’t know how graphic my style is, so if I forgot anything please tell me!

Tags: @allamarisss @loth-wolffe @imalovernotahater (you all asked 🤧)

@razena88 @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s (non of you asked but I thought you'd want to check it out since you reacted to my Crosshair post; if you don't want to be tagged just tell me and I'll remove it !)

Notes: I had to. Because you’re all nice and I love pain, so here is the Sad Hour: Crosshair Edition™; Enjoy! (aka, I hope you’ll suffer a bit)

PS: sorry about the little dots when I skip a line, it’s the only way I could well...skip a line. I’ll try to find another way for the future!

PPS: The Neighbourhood - Roll Call is the song I listened to while writing this 🤭

______________________________________

He knew they were waiting on him, on the move he would make. They didn’t know about his chip being removed – not yet – and he knew he only had one shot.

How ironic.

He was still wearing the Imperial armour, face covered by his helmet, rifle attached to his back. He could see the way Hunter tightened his fingers around the trigger, and he recognised that look; the one he usually gave to his opponents before he killed them. He could get away; Hunter was a good shooter and his senses did helped for that; but Crosshair was the marksman. He guessed by a simple look at the scenery that the shot would crush through his pectoral plates, and given the distance and the type of blaster, it would surely shake him out, but it wouldn’t kill him.

As much as he sucked at it, he had to resort to words. He wasn’t the Empire’s puppet anymore, and trying once again to threaten them…It was simply out of the question.

Slowly, he raised his hands to his helmet, grabbing the lower part of it. He waited a second, not sure about the short moment where his vision would be obstructed.

Come on, you don’t get to worry about getting shot. Take the damn bucket off.

He pushed it up his head, briefly closing his eyes as a ridiculous way to sooth his morbid thoughts. When he opened them up again, Hunter hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t know how much time he had, so Crosshair dared to take a step forward. Then another, holding his helmet in one hand, keeping the other one on the plastoid covering his chest, gently taping it with a gloved finger.

He stopped at the fourth step. The Batchers tensed up, unsure of what his next move would be. Crosshair knew what he was doing.

T’s your time to shine, Cross.

“DC-17. Round it down to a 7 meters distance from the target, slightly move your arm to your left.” He taped on a small spot of his chest plate, never breaking eye contact with Hunter. “Make me proud.”

It was a bold move, he knew it too damn well. He forced himself to maintain eye contact with them, with him, as much as it scared the crap out of him. As much as he hoped, deep down, for his brother to take pit-

.

 It was quick, bright. Finger pressed against the trigger, Hunter noticed every wave in the sound of the shot as it echoed in the depot. He followed the blue deflagration as it got spit out of his blaster, sliding the air in a thin whistling, brushing past Crosshair’s left arm, hitting another clone further behind.

He didn’t know if it was the right decision; but he knew enough about Crosshair to try it.

“I said ‘to your left’” was the only thing that came out of Crosshair’s mouth as he turned his head to look at the man lying on the floor a few meters behind him. He wasn’t dead, and now they had to quickly evacuate.

But Cross was alive. For now.

“Tech, get in there and be ready to take off when I tell you to! Wrecker, you cover us. Crosshair.”

The sniper pulled out his own blaster, back turned to the Batchers, ready to shoot any intruder trying to rip him away from his family once again. He soon felt a firm hand grasping his shoulder and dragging him back. He didn’t fight it, didn’t look at it. His focus was on the men running in the depot, on the way he hit them with such precision it almost felt too easy.

He was the last one to get in the Havoc Marauder, still shooting as the door closed shut in front of him.

.

 “…Crosshair?”

His heart pounded so hard in his chest that for a moment, he thought it might go through the plastoid armour and crush against the wall. There was the next move. So easy to execute, yet so terrifying.

“Crosshair, look at us.”

It was the tone; too formal, almost polite. He hated it. But he obeyed anyway, slowly turning around to face his tattooed brother.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down and cut that crap.

Hunter remained silent for a moment, examining Crosshair’s face scarred by burns, his new shaved side and white patch on the side of his head. The violent pumping and barely shaky breath told him more than the stoic eyes he was staring at.

“How’d you do it?”

“A droid helped.” Hunter’s nod was the only answer he got.

Keep talking, di’kut.

“I-”

“I missed you.” confessed Wrecker. “I think we all did.”

Now it was his turn to nod. What could he possibly answer? ‘I missed you too, but mostly because my chip made me want to kill you.’?

You didn’t wanted it, you had no choice.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Echo got a bit closer to him, even though he couldn’t tell if it was a good idea. “We know you didn’t.”

“Now that you removed your chip, you’re out of risks.” commented Tech, trying to comfort him a bit.

Each second passing was getting him closer to the edge. He wasn’t looking at faces, he was looking at phantom targets, still feeling the stings stabbing his brain every time he hesitated before shooting at them. Their voices were hardly getting to him, they were so distant, probably a faint memory from a time where he still had control.

“…get you something to eat, and you’ll go take a shower. Works for you?”

“Yes, Sarge.”

He knew the small clap on his shoulder was more of a friendly kind than a brotherly one. He hated it. He deserved it.

.

.

 He never felt that uncomfortable while eating with someone before. Even lunches on Kamino’s cantina weren’t as awkward. Tech tried to initiate a small talk, mentioning their next mission, the supplies they would need to get, and Omega tried to keep him going by nodding and asking questions he knew were useless.

But really, it was just an excuse to avoid the talk. Given the situation, it would probably hurt less to just… confront him. Tell him he scared them, when he callously ordered Hunter to stand down and surrender, told his troopers to “aim for the kid”. Not that he didn’t know; he found the confession in their eyes every time they would look at him.

He barely ate, rolling a fresh toothpick between his gloved fingers as he weakly chewed on his food.

“I’ll take the first round tonight,” Hunter muttered, mostly for himself.

Crosshair slowly got up from his seat, putting his ration away, trying to avoid the stares. He slid his toothpick between his lips, nibbling a bit harder than usual on the wooden texture. All he had to do was turn around and leave the cockpit. He had done it countless time by the past, what’s one more?

He wanted to lay down and sleep his pain away, get drowned in the pillows and forget all about what happened. He took a few steps, pretended he didn’t flinch when a hand caught his own, but couldn’t bring himself to smile at Omega when she gently rubbed his knuckles.

She didn’t say anything, she simply followed him to the bunk beds. Crosshair could barely look at her, because every time he did he could only see the scared look she gave him when he ordered it.

Aim for the kid.

It was haunting; she was just a child, a mixture of a little sister and a daughter for the Batchers, and he tried to rip that away from them too.

His attention shifted to the beds when he noticed the lights around his. He could also see a glimpse of a plush – oddly familiar – and a soft blanket nicely pulled over the mattress.

“We – she needed a place to sleep, and you were gone so…”

Wrecker, who followed him too, was uncomfortable; he was the one who came up with the idea. As much as he missed Crosshair, he knew he needed to take care of his little one because she was here. But now, Cross was back.

“Keep the bed,” he murmured, “I don’t mind.”

And he meant it. He would have done the same if Wrecker, or Echo or whoever went missing like he had. The kid deserved a comfy place to rest, her life with them already being chaotic enough.

“I can sleep with you, I don’t mind. I can stay at the end of the bed if you’d prefe-”

“It’s fine, Omega.”

He painted a weak, yet gentle smile on his face, hoping for it to convince her. It did, because she nodded and held his arm against her for a few seconds as to hug it. Wrecker – and Echo later that night – offered him to sleep in their bed. “I can sleep with Tech if you want it all for yourself” the 501st vet assured him. But Crosshair declined each time, pretending that he would probably not sleep anyway tonight, just tonight, because he needed to get used to this place again.

In a way, it was true. He needed time to find his footing here, to get back to the way things used to be.

Don’t pretend it will go back to ‘how it used to be’. It could never.

.

 When everyone headed to bed, Hunter returned to the cockpit and found the sniper sitting on his own.

“I’ll take the first round, Crosshair. Go get some sleep.”

“I don’t have a bed,” he barely confessed, his usual sarcastic tone nowhere to be found.

“Take mine for now, I don’t need it before a few hours. Don’t discuss it,” he pursued when Crosshair tried to reply, “I’m not giving you a choice.”

It took him a second to realise how clumsy it sounded, but Crosshair spared him the embarrassment of an apology when he got up and nodded.

“Alright, sorry.”

Hunter grabbed his shoulder, unsure about his next move, but trying anyway.

“It’s…We can’t pretend nothing happened, but we’ll work through this. All of us,” and when he heard Crosshair’s heart pumping harder and his breath getting heavier, he added, “as a family.” Before letting go of him.

Crosshair couldn’t even speak anymore. If he tried, all that would come out would be confused babbling and an awkward throat clearing. He hoped on his brother’s heightened senses to read through him like an open book, throwing back one last look before he got back to the bunk beds. All the Batchers were already sleeping, peacefully wrapped in their blankets or holding their plushie against their chest. He sat on the edge of Hunter’s bed, his blacks still on, eyes locked on the soft lights emanating from his old bed.

.

 Hunter woke up when he felt a soft weight landing on his lap. The smell got him almost immediately, a mixture of gunpowder and iron.

“You should have surrendered.”

His eyes shifted to the slim shadow standing a few steps away, lurking on him with cold determination.

“Crosshair?” He looked down at the soft plush laying on him. Lula. Her head was almost ripped in half by a now barely fuming hole. He couldn’t hide the fear splashing his eyes, neither could he refrain his voice from breaking when he asked “what did you do?”

“I did what had to be done. This is why they put me in charge to track you. I’m efficient.”

Hunter shivered at the sick smile he could hear in Crosshair’s voice. His thoughts ran from the plush to Omega, to the bunk beds at the end of the hallway, to his brothers left unarmed at the mercy of a sniper who had none.

“You should have killed me in that depot.”

“Crossha-”

A quick thud filled the cockpit as a red, bright light stroked Hunter right through the chest. He fell back into his seat, unable to breathe, but way too aware of the burn on his skin, of the nerves flaming up under the chock and the heat, of his heart rapidly pulsing then slowing down in a macabre countdown. He got dizzy, eyes blurring out despite his desperate attempt to get them focused.

He struggled to keep his head up, until a gloved hand grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up. He could guess the shapes of the helmet, the green and grey shades melting altogether as his eyes barely held open. As he felt his own heart stop, his last breath making him chock, he heard his brother’s voice taunting him, one last time.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

.

.

  Pitch black. This is all Crosshair could see when he abruptly opened his eyes. The blanket was rolled up at his feet, his blacks soaked in sweat, and his head aching. A sudden terror grasped him as he held his temple, tripping off the bed as he tried to get up, muttering Hunter’s name. He choked up on the syllables when he realised he was sleeping in his brother’s bed, while the tracker was nowhere to be found. He found himself struggling for air, the same way he would if someone stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. He dragged himself to the refresher, locking the door as soon as he got in.

The bright light forced him to close his eyes for a few seconds, but once he got used to it he reached the tap. His hands, usually so precise and steady, where uncontrollably shaking, to the point of him getting cramps.

The cold water did nothing to help; he shivered to the wet contact, lightly gasping when he splashed his face, but did it again, and again, trying to wash off the pain of his body.

Did I killed them? Did I? What if I did, what will I do, what if I killed them, I can’t- I can’t lose them, not again, not this way, I-

His head was buried in his hands, and it demanded all his strength for him to look up in the mirror. He quickly regretted doing so.

He hated those scars. Mostly, what they represented, what they meant.

It means you tried to get them burned alive; you ordered for them to be burned alive by an active propeller. This is what they mean, this is what you did.

He hated his reflection, lurking and haunting him the same way his memory did. A phantom pain none of them could imagine.

You like to pretend they don’t get it, but they do. Their own brother tried to kill them. You did that, Crosshair; don’t put the blame on your victims.

“Kriff,” he bitterly chuckled, tears burning his eyes.

You did this to yourself. Take some responsibilities.

He tried to maintain eye contact with himself, fingers gripped so tight around the edge of the sink he could feel his muscles quiver. He didn’t have a choice, he knew that. The chip forced him, the Empire used him to do these terrible things.

If a gloved hand kills you, will you blame the glove, or the hand?

You’re the hand, Crosshair. Nothing you will ever say or do will change that.

Nothing.

“Shut the kriff up,” he gave up, angrily pushing himself away from the sink, but still catching a glimpse of tears running down his cheeks before he turned his head, defeated. “Keep the snide to yourself.”

He jolted when someone softly knocked on the door. He took a few deep breaths to calm down his pumping heart, wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, and opened the door.

“I didn’t find you in the bed,” Hunter explained while analysing his expression, “I thought you’d be in here.”

“I can take the next round.” Crosshair calmly responded.

“Mine’s not done yet.”

“Hunter, please I- let me take the next round.”

He couldn’t say which of the two, his muffled “please” or his begging eyes, convinced Hunter; but it worked and that was enough for him. He didn’t flinch this time, when his brother gently patted his arm; he even wished for a quick, warm embrace. But he doubted Hunter was ready to get affectionate with him so easily. Truth be told, he didn’t feel that comfortable either. It was a crave he couldn’t fill.

He still cracked a weak smile as Hunter nodded and returned to his bed to get some rest.

Crosshair dragged himself to the cockpit, his stomach twisting at the sight of the empty seat on his right. He fell into his own, a long sigh slipping from his lips.

.

Don’t fall asleep.

[light-yaers]

No Saints: Chapter One

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

A/N: Hey everyone! So, after some consideration, I’ve also decided to post each No Saints chapter on individual Tumblr posts, as well as Ao3. I know some people like reading things on Tumblr and it must just seem easier if there are actual chapters uploaded to here as well. I’ll be posting them all over the next few days and then we’ll be all caught up! 

This also means that I can now have a TAG LIST, so if you’d like to be notified for when Chapter Nine comes out, then please tell me and I’ll tag you when I update next. 

Once again please excuse any small spelling or grammar mistakes. No beta we die like men.

Word Count - 7.3k

Chapter One

Working as a mechanic on Nevarro didn’t often gift you the visual of friendly faces, and that was no different with the Mandalorian—he never showed his face. You wouldn’t know his smile even if he decided to wake up one day without slotting Beskar all over his body.

But you knew his stance, the broadness of his shoulders, his preference for short range blasters with the safety close enough for his index finger to reach before firing at will. You didn’t really know people on Nevarro, but you knew their weapon of choice.

It was knowledge that had ended up being valuable, both to your survival, and to that of the Mandalorian.

“I’ll pay you for this information,” He offered bluntly. He never begged, nor did he show his true emotions within his modulated voice very often. The only vague emotion you’d seen him give off was anger—seething and insatiable— the first time he’d ever approached you for a repair.

“What good will this information give you?” You asked, genuinely. “I don’t know their names, this is hunter country. No one ever gives away their identity,”

“A weapon needs someone doing the firing,” He replied simply.

You agreed to his terms, partly from the initial fear that he would harm you, think you to be working against the Guild, but also from the generous sum he was willing to give you for every piece of information you passed onto him.

And thus, began a sort-of partnership that you’d never expected.

You were no saint. You knew the damage done by the goods you willingly sold to trained killers, assassins, Guild members. You saw the bodies dragged from their ships to the Guild, you saw the bounties that went out, kicking and screaming and spitting at their captors—

You saw the blood and dirt and flakes of flesh with every weapon upgrade or repair, but now, you didn’t bat an eye. It was business, it was your livelihood, and it was good money, thanks this this agreement with the Mandalorian that you’d made a while back.

Mando arrived back on Nevarro every few weeks. His condition was always subject to review; sometimes he flowed through your doors, ready for a quick exchange; other times, he took his time with it, sitting opposite you as you went through the recent repair logs, discussing the types of people that came through your doors.

Over the months, however, he always ended up sticking around for longer periods of time. Whether it was from earlier exhaustion, or the normalcy of having a conversation that didn’t end in bloodshed, you didn’t mind. He was the only constant in your life, splitting up your weeks and months when, before, honest interaction had basically been at zero.

“Are you not worried?” He asked one evening. It was late, and your shop was technically closed. You’d awoken to the subtle clicks of your entrance being lockpicked, hoisting yourself out of bed in nothing but your nightwear and grabbing the blaster you kept by your pillow.

You’d rushed to the shop front, aiming your blaster right at his chrome covered head. He’d raised his hands immediately, not once going for his own weapon. The feeling in the pit of your stomach as you lowered your weapon hadn’t been one of anxiety, but of warmth—he trusted you enough not to grab his weapon, not to even incline that he was going to shoot you.

“Worried about what?” You replied, flicking through the logbook.

“A bounty escaping, knowing that you shared this information,” You stopped flicking through the pages, freezing slightly where you sat opposite him. You sensed his sudden unease, deciding to look up directly into his visor.

“Tell me this, Mando,” You began. “What’s my name?”

He looked at you blankly, but you liked to imagine what facial expression he pulled beneath his helmet. In this moment, you imagined he was almost panicking, trying desperately to think back at what your name could be. It’d been over six months, yet names were never properly discussed. His silence proved that he’d just realised this.

“See? You don’t know it. My face is somewhat known here, sure, but my name? I try not to share it as much as you try not to show your face,” You sent him a raised brow smirk. Innately, you felt you had a responsibility to come across stronger than you looked, which is why you shoved down those subtle flickers of anxiety that arose from his question.

Sure, you had those doubts, anyone would. But living on Nevarro, doing what you did, it was an element of the job that you simply had to expect. You suspected Mando also knew that feeling well.

“You’re single-handedly keeping me in business, Mando,” You chuffed, almost sadly, but kept up an unbothered attitude. “I wasn’t going to turn this down and all these months down the line, no matter the danger, wouldn’t change that.” You ended, and you could have sworn you heard him breathe out, almost as if he was relieved that you knew these conditions from the beginning.

You kept flicking through the logbook, until you finally stumbled across a repair. “Here it is,” You perked up, shuffling yourself round so Mando could see the book over your shoulder. Your index finger grazed the page, just underneath the line he was looking for. “Repaired his blaster pistol last month. He didn’t look like a hunter, more like a scared blurrg, from what I can recall,”

“Young? Old?” Mando questioned.

“On the young side, definitely. Looked more like a runaway than anything else,” You added, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest. Usually, you divulged the weapon information of other hunters gone rogue, wanted by the Guild; assassins and thieves, or whatever other dirt washed up on Nevarro and in your shop.

This, however—you remembered him. He was young, he was scared, shaking like a newly born calf when he’d bumbled into your shop.

“That fits the bill,” Mando stated, before rising from his seat. You followed suit, making your way back round your front work desk and slotting the logbook beneath it. You tried to keep your expression blunt when you turned back to him, but you couldn’t help the wave of overthinking that landed in your brain.

You stared at him, leaning against the desk until your shoulders rose to cover your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh, but evidently that was enough for you to get the Mandalorian’s attention.

“What?” He spoke harshly, in the same old modulated boom you were used to hearing. You forced yourself to stay still, trying desperately to find his eyes beneath the abyss of his dark visor, but of course it was no use.

“Don’t break into my shop next time,” You diverted your emotions. “Just knock if it’s after hours,”

Mando nodded once, the moonlight gleaming off the chrome that surrounded his face for just a second, before disappearing once more. He shuffled a leather gloved hand through his satchel for just a few seconds, before approaching you at the work desk.

Unceremoniously, he placed your pay in front of you, each credit dropping with a small ping against the metal surface.

“See you,” Mando said bluntly. You nodded in return, before the Beskar covered man left your shop swiftly, shutting your door gently on his way out. You stared at the credits disapprovingly, before going to relock the door behind him.

You forced yourself to shuffle through your pay, counting the credits so you could note them in your budget, but you furrowed your brows as you finished rounding them up. You must have counted them wrong—there were an extra five hundred credits than what you’d agreed with the Mandalorian all those months ago.

Shaking your head, you went about recounting them, only to get to the same exact outcome. Was it an honest mistake in his counting, or had he overpaid you? Tipped you, helped you, heard the way your voice had almost faltered when you’d told him he was keeping you afloat?

You were awash with a new type of conflict—somewhere between thanks and extreme anger. The thanks were certain; he’d listened, and he hadn’t needed to do that, but he’d done it anyway. The anger; this implied you owed him now. As much as you’d come to enjoy his occasional visits every few weeks, the man was still an utter mystery to you. You didn’t want him to have the option of springing up in here and asking for a favour, knowing that he’d done one for you prior.

But there was still a warmth—it came subtly and out of the blue often, when you were around him. You could have slapped yourself at how fast it came this time round, taking you by surprise and speeding your heart rate up beneath your ribs.

He’s a bounty hunter. Get over it.

You placed your usual cut in your savings bundle, in the safe by your bed, but the extra five hundred stayed out of that bag. You shuffled back into bed with no indication of tiredness flooding over you again. All you saw in the static darkness of your grimy bedroom was the outline of that damn helmet—

And the wonder of what lay beneath.

The next week and a half was long and soul-crushingly slow. You’d had about three repair requests total, completing them all in a matter of hours, not making more than a few thousand credits from the sales. Nevarro had seemed restless recently, with less hunters returning to the Guild for more pucks. Maybe it was just a slow week.

Mando arrived back in the evening again, after you closed your doors early for the weekend. The sunlight trickled over Nevarro sparsely, but that evening was particularly warm, so you decided to have some fun.

Your shop had a back courtyard, nothing major, but you’d transformed it into a mini-firing range a year or so back. You were firing a classic blaster when you heard him approach from behind you—you jumped out of your skin at the sight of him, blaster raised, defensive stance donned.

“I told you to knock, Mando,” You boomed out, clutching your heart and switching the safety on your blaster immediately. Mando raised his arms in subtle apology, but you could have sworn you saw the subtle shake of his shoulders beneath the Beskar.

“You sounded... busy,” He spoke, and you squinted at him, feeling your cheeks flushing. The bastard was laughing. He was silently giggling beneath his helmet, the only indication of his lapse of stoicism being from the tiniest movement of his chest and shoulders, almost indecipherable.

You shot him an amused scowl. “Did you—,”

“I locked it,” He replied, already knowing what you were asking. You gulped down surprise at his immediate response, turning back to your makeshift firing range and trying desperately to calm yourself down.

Now, you were a strong woman, that was no question. But the constant mystery of the last six months in Mando’s presence had provided you with more than you’d bargained for. Was it a reflex to suddenly feel invested in this guy’s life after a while? To want to know his backstory, his missions, his favourite breakfast food or blaster style?

The extra credits from your previous trade had only increased these feelings. What was it about a man in a mask? Or, more specifically, what was it about Mando?

And now, as you awkwardly struggled with the safety on a blaster you’d been firing since you were twelve fucking years old, all you could think about was the tone of his voice as he’d said I locked it.

“You shoot?” Mando questioned, moving round to stand next to you. You shot him a smirk, trying to conceal the thoughts within your head.

“I don’t just repair blasters, if that’s what you mean,” You could have cringed at how cocky you’d sounded, but it was too late.

“Show me,” He spoke. He didn’t demand it, but the way his voice arched it was as if he could make anyone do anything he said, just from the steadiness of that modulated drawl.

You did as you were told. You shook off your limbs subtly, before flicking off the safety and aiming at the targets you’d made. In flashes of green, you hit one, two, three targets with ease, right in the centre of their bullseye.

You changed it up, feeling a surge of confidence, or perhaps the want to impress this stoic man. Skilfully, you flipped the blaster in your hands until it had transferred to your other hand, firing another three times on the same targets and hitting them dead centre once more.

Your index finger clicked the safety on, before you stood in place, admiring the shots you’d fired.

“Try this one,” He said beside you, before he plucked the blaster from your hand and replaced it with this own weapon. You looked it over as it slotted into your grasp. It was heavier than yours, bigger, with a more distanced safety, probably because of the hand width that the Mandalorian possessed.

You furrowed your brows at his blaster, smiling at the way the steel glinted. It was well cared for, polished and gleaming, but slightly worn away around the trigger. Well-used. His own personalised weapon.

You raised the blaster towards the targets, all too aware of the way that chrome helmet was tilted towards you. You steadied your arm, applying just the right amount of pressure against the trigger, before it fired in quick succession—

You analysed the blast fire, the weight, the wind, fixing your trajectory upon impact with the trigger in a matter of milliseconds. When you stopped firing, overseeing the new collection of burning holes in the targets, you realised you’d hit them all dead centre again.

To your delight, or to your utter amazement, Mando let out a low, long whistle from beneath his Beskar.

“That’s a custom weapon,” He spoke afterwards, moving to stand before you. “Not many people could change their shooting style like that to fit the blast radius,” It was the closest thing to a compliment that you’d ever heard him offer.

You stayed silent as he replaced his blaster with your own once more, sheathing his weapon before his visor looked straight into your soul. It was shameful, how you realised you could probably stand there and analyse the chiselled and curved edges of his helmet for hours, how if you focused strongly, you could see him breathing beneath his heavy armour.

You forced yourself to step back, looking back towards the shop. “Right—business,” You said, heading inside immediately with Mando following on your tail.

You dropped your blaster on your work desk, grabbing the logbook and getting ready to flick through it once more, before Mando spoke up.

“I seek no information today,” He revealed. You froze, before slotting the logbook back beneath the desk slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his reason for visiting you.

“Okay,” You said, upon rising from beneath the desk once more. All of a sudden, you remembered his money—burning a hole in the safe in your room. You perked up, slapping your hands on the desk for lack of what the fuck to even do before getting round to almost scolding this man. “Then, I have a bone to pick with you,”

Mando dropped himself onto his usual stool, flicking his cape behind him and leaning back in subtle comfort. You swallowed, trying not to interpret anything from his clearly at ease behaviour, before heading to your bedroom quickly.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” He spoke up from the shop floor, and your heart skipped. Was that an attempt at a joke? At some comedy? You had to stop yourself, as you got to the floor and riffled through your safe for his overpaid credits, from allowing a warmth to spread through your gut.

You wanted to curse, as loud as you could. Had it really been that long that you were getting flustered over words from a Mandalorian? Undoubtedly the most hostile and unwelcoming people the galaxy had?

Or, was it just Mando himself that had you overthinking every sentence, every visit?

Credits secured in your fist, you made your way back out to the shop, dropping yourself opposite him and grabbing his arm suddenly, not stopping to think that this man could probably break you in half with his bare hands.

You dropped the credits in his gloved hand, sitting back as he stared at the pellets he now cradled in his palm.

“Not what we agreed,” Is all you said in explanation, picking up a tankard of water and sipping some down your throat, for lack of knowing how to cover up your neon cheeks after the exchange. The weather. It’s just the heat.

“I upped your pay,” He retorted.

“Bullshit, Mando,” You retaliated, allowing a few chuckles to escape your lips. Your face softened then, as you looked over to him, sitting awkwardly, still not knowing what to do with the returned credits. “Your money is your money, Mando. I’m fine with what we agreed,”

His fingers finally clasped around the credits, as his body went back to relax against the wall once more.

“Your shop,” Mando began. “You said I keep you in business,”

“That doesn’t mean I want more of your credits. Owning a washed-up weapons repair shop on kriffing Nevarro isn’t ideal, but neither is being a bounty hunter,”

“You’d earn more as a hunter with the way you shoot,” Mando replied instantly. You perked your brow, sending him a small smile.

“Are you saying I’m not a good weapons mechanic?”

You almost burst out laughing with the way Mando straightened himself, immediately being on edge. His fists tightened, almost as if he was suddenly overthinking if he’d insulted you or not.

“N-no,” He partially stuttered out, but you couldn’t keep your laughter contained. You burst out in giggles, overseeing his complete lack of sarcastic understanding. It was endearing; it made him appear more human.

“Joke, Mando. It was a joke,”

He relaxed after that once more, albeit more hesitantly. He went to slot the credits back in his bag placed on the floor, and as he did so, you allowed yourself to indulge. Beskar gleamed as he leant down, showing the twist of his torso and outlining strong triceps on the small amount of him that was unarmoured.

His neck was slender, compared to the size of his helmet. You wondered how the hell he wore that thing constantly. It didn’t look light, nor did you expect it to be all that comfortable.

If he saw you gawking when he rose once more, he didn’t make any indication of noticing. To avoid revealing what you’d been doing, you moved to cross your legs as a save. “So, why’re you here?” You finally asked, remembering that he had no reason to have visited you.

Mando tensed up slightly at your question, but not enough to come across as surprised. He’d already admitted to not needing information from you today.

“Habit,” He replied honestly. His one-word answer cut through you like a knife, striking your core and filling it with that warmth one again. It wasn’t often that you felt exposed, but sat opposite him, in your home, hearing him be so unapologetically honest had simply made those thoughts rise to the forefront of your mind once more.

You wanted to know him, but you also knew that asking him these things would result in nothing good.

You forced yourself to swallow down these rising wants, to push them away completely, before putting on a small smile. “That’s a funny way of saying that I’m your only friend,”

All effort to force those feelings away dissolved, as soon as you heard the low, modulated chuckles from beneath his helmet. They floated through the room, along with the image of his shaking shoulders and tight chest as his laughter tumbled to the floor.

You felt your cheeks flush immediately, knowing that it would be a noticeable blush. You grabbed your tankard, bringing it to your lips as you continued to indulge in looking at him, as he calmed down from the small burst of laughter that he allowed himself to show you.

There was something pulsing within you that you simply couldn’t contain; that want; that desire, after so long without knowing anyone on this godforsaken planet. Before you could stop yourself, words were already tumbling from your mouth.

“I don’t see many people on this planet, besides you,” You admitted. Mando slowly turned his visor to you, making it known that you had his full attention.

You immediately felt too vulnerable, resulting in you standing from your seat and heading round to your work desk, slamming the tankard down on the top. “It’s... well, it’s nice. I hope that, even if you don’t need information, you continue to come by,”

You held your breath as soon as you stopped talking, too afraid that you’d overstepped a line. Not that this transaction with him had ever been professional, but you knew Mandalorian’s were inherently focused on their job, and their job only.

When he didn’t reply, or move, or do anything, you started to panic. You played it off as best as you could, by downing the rest of the water in your tankard and averting your gaze to beneath your work desk, like you had the immediate need to start taking inventory.

Mando rose a few moments later, grabbing his satchel and placing it over his shoulder. The breath caught in your throat as he approached your desk. You almost gasped as a gloved hand reached for your forearm, dragging it out to hover in front of him.

He dropped the five hundred credits into your palm as your eyes flicked over his helmet at light speed. He stepped back, removing his grip from you and placing his visor upon your face one last time, before turning on his heels and heading for the door.

He unlocked it, but didn’t open it. You felt your pounding heartbeat as he cleared his throat.  

“It is,” He let out lowly. “Nice.”

The door swooped open and shut behind him gently before you could say anything in return.

He didn’t come back the next week. You wondered if you’d scared him off, if your tiny confession of enjoying his company was too much.

You thought back to the way he’d said the word— Nice— as if it wasn’t something that was often spoken in his vocabulary. For a man of little words, you were increasingly amazed at how he managed to convey things with his body alone, being weighed down and covered up by Beskar at all times.

The credits still weighed on you. You’d given them back to him, you’d made yourself clear, but then he’d given them back and left without a trace.

You prayed to some god out there that it wasn’t a Mandalorian way of saying goodbye. From what you knew of Mandalore, which was very little, you knew they weren’t the gift giving types, but it still made you think.

Yet all that he’d done, despite the deal, the trade of information and the abrupt middle of the night awakenings, those small attempts at light-hearted banter and void visits had given you just a shred of hope.

People on Nevarro were cut-throat, you knew that better than most after making your home there for so long. That’s why this shook you to your core, sparking this unlikely partnership with someone such as Mando.

Stars, you missed him. It sounded ridiculous when you said it in your head, but you did. Contact was little to none on this planet.

You didn’t speak more than a sentence to people needing repairs. You didn’t sit down and talk, and fuck, the loneliness was something you were used to— yet six months of regular meetings, even just to trade information, had offered you a warmth you hadn’t realised you’d missed—

Until he was gone.

It wasn’t until three weeks later that you ventured out of the shop, certain that you were going mad. You hardly frequented the bar at the entrance of the city, choosing to stay safe and locked away in your small isolation inside the shop, but the absence of people was sucking you dry.

You entered the bar, making sure not to seem out of place. It was still an odd feeling, seeing people sitting around and drinking. You knew a lot of the locals— returning customers for repairs, all of which were hunters.

Perhaps there was some unspoken understanding that you weren’t to be touched, as the small nods of hunters hit you when you accidentally met their eyes. It almost made you feel known, but at the same time you hadn’t felt much since that last conversation with the Beskar clad hunter.

You were heading towards the bar when a voice rang out behind you. “Miss!” You swivelled on your heels, hitting his eyes.

It was Greef Karga. You knew him, everyone on Nevarro did. He was the Guild contact here, the one that most hunters got their pucks from for the next job.

“Karga, hello,” You replied, not politely, but not harshly. Being polite got you nowhere on Nevarro, and you knew that despite his smiles and willingness to be friendly, Karga was a snake in the grass.

“Drink?” He questioned, and you found yourself accepting his offer. You made your way to his booth, slotting yourself in opposite him. He grabbed a bottle of blue liquor from the floor by his feet, clicking at the droid behind the bar for glasses. “What brings you here? You don’t usually venture from your establishment,”

You regarded him, all too aware of the blaster on your hip for safety.

“Slow few weeks. Fancied a change of scenery,” You replied bluntly.

“Ah yes, business is slower than usual currently,” He admitted. A droid placed two shot glasses on your table, scuttling back to the bar. Karga swiped them towards him, uncorking the bottle and filling up both glasses. “But your repairs are stellar, and I hear your custom blasters are best sellers,”

He dragged a glass towards you, which you took once he’d taken his hand away. You swilled the liquid around, trying not to look too despondent.

“Parts are sparse,” You admitted. “Fewer hunters need new gear. I’m starting to think there’s someone better than me on Nevarro,”

Karga let out a coarse laugh, which you first mistook for a chesty cough. His smile was indication enough, however, of the funniness he obviously though that required.

“No, my dear, there’s no one better,” He replied. You chose to ignore him calling you dear. Opposite you he raised his glass to the sky, prompting you to do the same. “To good business in future,”

You nodded at him in response, before downing the blue liquor in one gulp. It burned as it slinked down your throat, hitting your stomach and causing a warmth to spread through your gut. Nothing like the small conversations the Mandalorian gave you, but it made you feel something— and that was in short supply around here.

Karga sighed in refreshment after slamming his glass back on the table, but his gaze fixed on something behind you as you deposited your glass back down. “Ah, Mando!” He exclaimed.

Your heart stopped.

You stayed utterly frozen in place, feeling a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline surge through you.

“That was fast. I wasn’t expecting you back for another few days at least,” Karga continued.

You tried not to let the hurt surge through you. So, he had been back since your last meeting. He’d been back, and he hadn’t come to visit. You tried to rationalise your hurt— he held no obligation to stop by the shop, he held no responsibility, yet— you wished—

You wished he would have.

“I trust you know our resident weapons mechanic,” Karga continued, gesturing to you. You forced yourself to turn round and look at him— face to face. His helmet stared at you blankly in response, and you wondered what expression he held beneath.

Maybe it was annoyance, thinking he was finally rid of a nobody mechanic from the inner city.

Maybe it was surprise, or hurt, or pain. You knew that despite the immense effort you were putting in to keep your stare blunt, he’d see right through you.

“Yes,” Mando replied after what seemed like hours. You turned back to Karga, pushing your glass to the middle of the table in dismissal.

“Thanks for the drink. I’ll be going,” You got up swiftly, standing in front of Mando after leaving the booth. He looked down at you, chrome visor focusing on your eyeline. You found yourself flicking your eyes from the left and right, as if you could see the placement of his eyes beneath the helmet—

Then you looked away.

You sauntered out of the bar, ignoring exclaimed farewells from Karga as you booked it out of the bar, heading straight back to the shop. Your strides were fierce, your heart pounded painfully beneath your ribs and you couldn’t stop yourself from balling your fists.

You felt like screaming, but you kept your mouth shut and your jaw tense. You felt like punching, kicking, pounding something, but you didn’t, instead opting to breathe it out as you entered your shop and slammed the door shut behind you.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You yelled at yourself to calm down, to accept that it was nothing. God forbid, you’d gotten worked up over the smallest indication of human interaction, from a man whose face you’d never fucking seen, no less.

It was stupid. You’d long grown out of enjoying fairy tales, and this wasn’t one. You were a grown woman, hyper-fixating over a six-month long dodgy deal with a bounty hunter that you didn’t fucking know— not really, anyway.

In a frenzy, you unsheathed your blaster, heading out to your courtyard. You fired at will, not stopping to aim your blaster or even try to hit the targets. When that got dull, you actually started to try—you positioned your feet parallel to your shoulders, straightening your spine and extending your neck—

You fired, hitting the targets dead centre every time, just like normal.

You fired until your trigger finger began to ache, until the incessant anger and hurt in your chest had dissipated to a low roar that you could manage in other ways—with the bottle of Coruscant whiskey that you only saved for special occasions; big deals, good months, and, evidently, to feel something other than red, hot and seething anger.

You went to sheath your blaster, when the hairs on the back of your neck pricked up—

You turned swiftly, raising your gun and keeping your eyes wide open. You faltered when you saw the familiar glint of moon rays on chrome. Mando stood in the courtyard doorway, just as he’d done the last time you’d seen him.

Your elbow buckled, dropping the blaster to your side as you kept yourself composed. You stared him down like you were unbothered to see him. You had a feeling he knew that wasn’t the case, though, and if he’d been there for a few minutes before then your incessant firing would have proven otherwise.

“Mando,” You spoke first, keeping your voice steady. “What information do you need this time?” You kept it professional, not wanting to think back about the way you’d been so blatantly vulnerable to him before. He probably thought you to be childish, over-emotional, idiotic.

You’d rather he thought you to be that, than weak.

“What were you doing with Karga?” He demanded it this time. His voice was low, lower than usual, despite the modulator. You sheathed your pistol, stepping towards him once. He didn’t move aside.

“Drinking,” You stated the obvious. You made a move to try and get past him, but a Beskar covered forearm leant up against the doorframe, stopping you even more so.

“He’s bad news,” He continued. You let out an annoyed scoff.

“I know who Karga is. Kriff—I live here,” You accidentally let your annoyance travel through your words, making it exceptionally clear that you were pissed, if it hadn’t been obvious before.

You grabbed his forearm, tugging it away from the doorframe and pushing your way inside. He let you pass eventually, watching as you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from beneath your work desk. You jumped up onto the desk, letting your legs droop over the side as you uncorked the bottle.

It was silent. You could tell he was trying to find something to say, to bring up the obvious tension, but you also got the sense that Mando didn’t often apologise.

Why should he? He didn’t promise to come back.

He hadn’t promised. You had no idea why you were so ticked off, yet there you were—seething, angry, hurt, perhaps on the brink of tears, but possibly relishing in the fact he’d come to the shop after your little encounter. You felt sick at your own feelings.

“Are you... mad at me?” He spoke finally. The breath caught in the back of your throat. His hesitation made it clear; he didn’t often delve into the workings of others. He was being kind by even asking you about this.

You felt like a dick. All of a sudden, you could see even more so that you were being incredibly irrational. Weeks of zero contact had turned you into a moron. A lonely, overthinking moron.

You glanced up at him, holding the whiskey between your thighs. You let out a sigh.

“No,” You let out. “I’m sorry. It’s been... a strange, few weeks,” You chuckled slightly after speaking, bringing the bottle to your lips and taking a small gulp. “Loneliness is a disease, Mandalorian,” You added, taking another sip and slotting the bottle back between your thighs.

Mando moved from the doorway, striding towards you slowly. You stayed in place, focusing on the warmth that the whiskey provided you with. You finally looked up when he stood before you, not close enough to slot between your hips, but close enough for your knees to graze against Beskar.

He reached out for the bottle, grabbing it from between your thighs and making his way around to the main shop. You went to turn, but the leather of his gloved hand slotted itself between your jaw and your neck, pushing your gaze to the back of the shop.

“Don’t look,” He told you, warningly.

You did as you were told, all the while counting your shallow breaths as they quietly shook from within your body. You heard the subtle glug of the bottle, the drip as the liquid sloshed around within the glass, and then the bottle was being slotted back between your thighs from behind.

Mando’s arm wrapped itself around you as he made sure it was back in place, his glove grazing over the top of your thigh and skimming your waist as he retracted his arm back. You’d be lying if you didn’t relish in those small touches.

They set your skin alight, despite there being no skin-to-skin contact involved. It was the closest he’d ever come to you, allowing the gentler side of himself to appear. You’d never see him this way; guard down, a softness to his voice and his unknowing gaze.

You knew that he’d just raised his helmet to take a sip of whiskey—that was enough to make you gulp back the desires within your gut. You couldn’t believe he’d felt comfortable enough to do that around you. You hesitantly turned, waiting to see if it was allowed, but fully turned to him when he didn’t push your gaze away like before.

You swivelled on the top of the desk, bringing your legs round to droop over the other side, while Mando grabbed his usual stool and dragged it closer to you.

He sat, sighing slightly as he did so, before looking up at you sat before him.

“Solitude,” He spoke. “I prefer that word,” His voice was soft. You knew he was tired just from the way he spoke; he was exhausted.

“Solitude implies a sense of peace,” You replied, stepping carefully over your words. “Do you feel peace in your ship, all alone?”

“Do you feel peace in this shop?” He hit back with, avoiding your question completely. You were about to say no, but you stopped yourself. This shop was all you had, all you knew. Your choice of loneliness, over solitude, was an obvious indication of the way it made you feel, and you wanted to bet that Mando knew that, but—

Without this life, you didn’t know where you’d be.

“It’s all I have,” You admitted, finally. He nodded subtly, not moving his visor from your face.

“And this,” He said, gesturing to the Beskar he donned. “Is all I know. This is the Way,”

You looked down, swinging your legs back and forth for lack of what to do. You wanted to know more—you always wanted to know more about Mando, that was a given. But right now, you wanted to ask him everything.

“Is that why you stopped coming here?” The words trickled from your lips pitifully, but you had no choice but to accept that you’d spoken them.

Mando was silent for a few moments, but he made no indication of looking away from you. You wondered if, beneath the helmet, he was actually looking at you. Maybe he was zoning out, or was focused on the wall behind your head instead.

“I feared continuing to visit you would become a habit I could no longer break,”

There it was—that warmth. It erupted within your gut, winding its way up your spine and neck, circling down your limbs and to the spot between your legs that you always chose to ignore. You tensed up immediately, forgetting about the whiskey bottle between your thighs as the sensation only increased the wobble of your upper thighs.

“Like you said,” Mando continued, and you could have sworn that his voice sounded strained. Like he was holding back, like his body was almost forcing him to stay quiet. He stood suddenly, causing a small gasp to leave your lips involuntarily, as he strode forward to slot himself partially between your legs. “Loneliness is a disease,”

You went jelloid when a hesitant hand was placed on your thigh—

Stars, it’s been a while.

You were slowly beginning to unwind, as Mando placed his other hand on the opposing thigh, slotting himself further between your legs. As much as you wanted to speed this up, to feel skin touch skin, you didn’t know if that was actually possible for the Mandalorian.

“M-Mando,” You stuttered out, but it only made his grip tighten around your plump skin. You instinctively raised your hands to his chest, feeling the smoothness of his Beskar. “Just— wait,” You managed out, despite all of your senses not wanting him to stop what he was doing. His visor shot to your face quickly and his hands fluttered away from your thighs.

You wanted to cry— that’s not what you’d meant—

You swiped your hands across his Beskar chest plate, reaching down for his large forearms. You heard the breath hitch in the back of his throat, as a small moan escaped his modulator.

You placed his arms back on your legs slowly, but he still looked on his guard, wondering what you had to say.

“Loneliness is a disease,” You spluttered out. Your cheeks were flushed a neon red, and you could feel the rapid heartbeat erupting from beneath your ribs. “It’s— overwhelming,”

When he didn’t move or speak, you wanted to kick yourself. Had you done it again? Revealed something that was too much and reduced yourself to a vulnerable mess? For a moment, you thought Mando could smell the weakness within you, but even you didn’t realise you’d unwind this fast at the most subtle of touches from the Mandalorian.

You froze when he raised a gloved hand to pinch your chin. His thumb was firm but gentle, his other fingers curled just beneath your jaw, and his stare was unwavering.

Stars, your whole body throbbed at his touch. You wanted more, but you also didn’t want it to end as quickly as it had started, and you’d meant what you’d said— overwhelming. It was a red, hot heat that you hadn’t felt in years, it was something that you’d have to get used to again, and from the fumbling touches that Mando gave you, you felt he might be in the same boat.

His thumb slowly made its way to your mouth, gliding back and forth over your bottom lip. You were positively glowing, feeling the intimate touch of the hunter for the first time after what seemed like months of fantasy—

You’d had dreams of him, falling asleep to the image of his helmet or the way he slumped on your stool every so often, so desperate to see what lay beneath his armour.

“You’re overwhelmed?” He needlessly questioned. The way his voice trickled all over you was enough to make your body surge towards his once more. You had to stop yourself from reaching for his waistband, overcome with a hunger that you hadn’t been expecting. “It’s okay. We have time,”

With five simple words you could have collapsed to the floor right there. All too soon, his touch vanished from your skin. You leant forward has he removed himself from you, stepping back while you tried desperately to get his touch back.

The whiskey bottle between your legs slipped suddenly, toppling from its place between your thighs as you realised you’d started to open your legs wider where he’d stood between your hips. You grappled at air to try and stop it falling, but it fell from the desk—

Right into a skilful gloved hand. Mando gripped the bottle with a ferocity that you knew he’d wanted to grip you with, before stepping forward once more. He slotted the bottle between your thighs once more, but right in the nook of your upper thighs—

You shivered uncontrollably as both hands came to cradle your thighs, pushing them together to keep the bottle in place.

You watched, defeated, as he picked up his satchel from the floor and slung it over his shoulder, staring at you atop the desk when he was ready to leave.

“If I see you drinking with Karga again, I won’t be as gentle,” Despite his efforts to keep his voice strong, you heard the breathy way he spoke.

It filled you with a confidence that had disappeared as soon as he’d first placed the bottle back between your legs.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” You challenged. You couldn’t stop yourself from sending a smirk his way, and it had the desired effect—

Mando dropped his helmet to the floor as the most subtle of groans escaped his lips. He swivelled and turned, heading for the door immediately afterwards.

He opened it, letting in the cold Nevarro air. You watched as he slinked out of the door, pulling it shut from the outside—

And then there was silence. You breathed out a shaky breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding, grabbing the whiskey and taking a large gulp as you tried to regain your composure fully.

You went to bed that night utterly elated, his chrome visor appearing behind your eyes all the same.

Feel free to send things to my ask box or message me!

[uswntxfootball]

all smiles here (jackie groenen x photographer!reader)

focusing on your new job turns out to be a hundred times harder after seeing the smiley dutch midfielder..

word count: 2343 ish

——

today was the day.

here you were, 22, fresh out of college and about to step foot onto the dutch training pitch for the first time and start your new job.

last night you had spent hours fretting over tiny details, making sure your cameras were charged and ready, your lenses were wiped clean, and that everything was nice and tidy.

you had planned to wake up extra early, making sure you had time to get everything situated and set before practice began.

that was the plan.

that’s.. unfortunately not what happened.

in your excitement, you had forgotten to set an alarm, which led to your current predicament, biking as fast as you can, racing through the dutch streets.

you glance down at your watch, narrowly missing a parked car as you do so.

you arrive at 7:58, just in the nick of time.

seeing that the team was already out stretching, you throw your bike down with a crash and run onto the field.

the crash of your bike hitting the pavement caused a few heads to turn your way, with a certain number 14 taking particular interest in your entrance.

blind to the commotion you caused, you laid your camera bag gently down along the side of the field (amongst the other photographers), then bend over unceremoniously, trying hard to catch your breath.

considering you had biked 5 miles in 10 minutes, you were spent, forgetting all your excitement in the process.

when your heart rate had somewhat slowed, you began setting up your equipment, and quickly the nerves and excitement arose once again.

you picked up your camera and took a photo of the closest player to test lighting (that player being sari van veenendaal), all the while internally screaming that that was the fifa 2019 best goalkeeper while doing so.

disregarding how much of a mess your morning was, the next hour went splendidly.

you managed to get a few shots of miedema with gorgeous lighting, photos that your manager undoubtedly would want to publish later on.

few photos were “unusable” (you were pretty damn good at your craft), and your camera roll was soon flooded with a wide variety of individual and group pictures.

at this point you had almost gotten all the players individually, your task being to get each of them by the end of practice, which was coming up shortly.

you snapped a few pictures of wilms, grinning widely when you see how well they turned out.

scanning quickly through the list of players, you sigh with relief when you realize you only have one more player to take photos of, #14.

you scan the field with your camera quickly and your breath promptly catches in your throat.

jackie was laughing at something daan was saying, her smile gorgeously on display.

you couldn’t help but stare, your hand lowering the camera as you forget the task at hand.

but how could anyone blame you?

she was, without a doubt one of the most gorgeous people you had ever seen.

her gaze meets yours suddenly, you let out a squeak of surprise in response and fumble your camera, breaking eye contact as you lunge forward to catch it.

you let out a sigh of relief when you grasp it, cheeks blood red at your actions, the older photographer next to you letting out a chuckle as he shook his head.

“kid you gotta be more careful.”

you nodded and smiled at him kindly, before shaking your head quickly and resuming to the task at hand.

with the ten minutes before the end of practice, you took, in total, one photo of jackie.

this was a disaster.

you just kept getting lost staring at her, this time through the lens of your camera, so starstruck that you forgot to actually take pictures.

you let out a sigh as you began thinking of an excuse for your boss later.

~~

walking into the locker room, jackie rolled her eyes at jill’s words.

“but did you see her jacks? that new camera girl is..” jill letting out a low whistle to finish her statement.

“i mean i’m taken but i have to agree she is pretty cute” daan said, popping into the conversation.

soon whole the locker room began chatting about this “new camera girl”, and jackie couldn’t help but blush.

she had to agree with everyone, you were absolutely adorable, and watching you almost drop your camera upon seeing her only solidified that.

jackie was brought out of her thoughts by jill who, very loudly, pointed at her and said:

“oh. my. god. you like her.”

jackie swatted jill’s hand away.

“shut up no i don’t.”

“oh my god she’s blushing she totally does,” daan squealed.

the locker room was soon buzzing with excitement over jackie’s new crush, filling the air with:

a lot of “omg jackie!”

and

even more “ask her out!!”

with jackie of course very adamantly denying such a proposition.

even through all of the teasing, jackie couldn’t help but hope that she would see you again tomorrow.

~~

you arrived earlier the following day, much much earlier, so much so that no other photographers had arrived yet.

you set your bike nicely against the rack this time, taking your time to admire the nice day as you lay your bag along the edge of the field.

you take a quick look at your watch, 7:17, and upon seeing that no one was around, picked up a soccer ball you found in the corner of the field.

having played a little bit of high school and college soccer, you juggled the ball around a little bit and then attempted to score from midfield.

you hit the ball right into the corner of the net on your second try, jumping up in excitement, when you hear someone speak behind you.

“for a sports photographer, that wasn’t all that bad.”

you turn around abruptly and let out a small squeak of surprise when you’re greeted by the very girl who had enchanted you the day before.

she lets out a dazzling grin before putting out her hand and saying:

“hi i’m jackie.”

“i- uhm y/n” you mumble, eliciting a giggle from the dutch girl before you.

you wipe your palms against your jeans quickly and take her hand, trying to desperately ignore the sparks that shot up your arm from the contact.

an awkward silence followed for the next few seconds, until jackie spoke.

“so, y/n, do you want to kick a ball around with me before people get here?”

“i’m, uh i’m not that good i mean i played a little in high school and college but like just for rec teams and i mean you’re on the national level so like i’m i don’t know i should probably just stick to photography i hope i didn’t offend you i’m just not that great and i yeah.”

you stop your rambling and blush, hoping she can decipher your message through your jumble of words.

jackie just lets out a laugh and your heart melts a little at the sound.

“i can take a few pictures of you though if you’d like?” you offer, hoping to spend a little bit more time with the midfielder.

“i would love that.” jackie says, letting out an even larger smile if possible.

for the next fifteen minutes you took dozens of photos of jackie, all the while learning about her life in manchester and belgium, how she broke a bike on the way to practice once, her dogs, and other snippets of her life.

you honestly couldn’t believe that this girl, this incredibly attractive and funny and just stupidly gorgeous girl was talking to you.

it was 7:50 when the other players arrived, jill letting out a whistle and yell when she saw who was already on the pitch.

“get it jackie!”

the other players cheered as well, letting out wolf whistles when they saw the two of you.

jackie got up but before she left she turned and gave you a hug then saying:

“sorry about them. they’re quite an obnoxious bunch.”

you let out a laugh and the two of you parted ways as practice was about to begin, your heart beating so fast you were afraid it would burst.

~~

“y/n.”

your boss let out a sigh as he took his glasses off.

“why are there 864 photos of jackie groenen in your camera roll?”

“i- i dont know” you stammer.

“this isn’t what i meant when i said you took too little of her yesterday.”

you flushed a deeper shade of red in utter embarrassment.

if your conversation with your boss was any indicator, practice was a disaster.

it wasn’t the players or practice itself.

it was you. your gay mess of a self.

but you just couldn’t help but trail the midfielder for the entire practice, your lens (and eyes) never leaving her.

it was only at the end of practice when you looked through your camera roll when you’d truly realized just how many photos you had taken of her.

each and every page filled with pictures of the number 14, her smile as bright as the day.

in your defense, you had taken quite a few fantastic photos of her, though there was one that was your favorite in particular, with the sun shining at the midfielder at just the right angle, illuminating her eyes and leaving her smile with its signature glow.

and of course that was the photo that caught your boss’s eye, despite his disappointment of today’s “turnout”.

and of course he wanted to publish it immediately.

and of course jackie saw it. and posted it. and tagged you in it.

where did she even get your handle from?

~~

it was sort of an unspoken agreement between the two of you, with both arriving early each practice to spend time with one another.

each time there’s jackie, always smiling and always gorgeous, and each time there’s you, always bumbling and always blushing and always tripping over your words.

and occasionally your feet.

but jackie only saw it as endearing, and continued to talk to you even when you were making a fool out of yourself.

eventually came the time for the netherland’s first matchup against a team, that team being estonia for the euro qualifiers.

you were brimming with the excitement at attending your first match as a photographer, and you arrived extra early match day to set up and get a good spot on the field.

“well if it isn’t my favorite photographer.”

you spun around quickly to spot jackie in her full kit, a blush promptly forming on your cheeks and your heart skipping a beat upon seeing her.

somehow you managed to reply:

“well if it isn’t my favorite player.”

this was your first time saying something that remotely resembled flirting with her, clearly catching the midfielder in surprise, as her face flushed a bright red a second later.

“i’m offended. i thought i was your favorite player.” daan said, appearing behind jackie, who stood frozen.  

you rolled your eyes.

“hate to break up the love fest though, but we’ve got a game to play.” daan said, tugging on the arm of an even redder jackie groenen.

after they left, you continued setting up your equipment, checking lighting and just making sure everything was all set and ready for the game to start.

and boy was it a game. 

in short,

the netherlands absolutely destroyed estonia.

in a huge 7-0 victory for the netherlands, there were an abundance of great photo opportunities, and you got them all.

goal scoring shots and celebration shots, everything.

you however, did let out two very loud cheers when jackie scored, once in the 26th minute and again when she completed her brace.

you had forgotten how empty the stadium was in your excitement.

each time you shouted the dutch girl, blushed, met your eyes and grinned before being pulled away by a teammate, who said something that sounded a lot like:

“your girlfriend’s here cheering for you.”

but in general,

you had expected the dutch to win.

you had expected daan, jackie, sherida, aniek, and katja to score as much and as well as they did.

you had even expected that you would embarrass yourself in some way during the match.

what you didn’t expect however, was for jackie groenen to come running at you after the match.

you were packing up your equipment when you saw the dutch girl approaching, and you opened your mouth to congratulate her on the brace and win.

but before you could get a word out,

she pulled you in by the camera straps around your neck and kissed you.

you stood, frozen, as if you couldn’t believe what was happening (because you really couldn’t).

jackie had started to realize you weren’t reciprocating and began to pull back when you came to your senses.

you kissed her back, hands moving to her waist to steady the two of you.

it was everything you wanted a first kiss to be, passion fueled and full of sparks, her hands moving from your chest to cup your cheek.

jackie was the one who pulled away first, a smile plastered on her face much like the one that had drawn you to her that very first day at practice.

you pulled her in to kiss her again, forgetting that your camera was still looped in front of your chest, only noticing it when it was in the way of getting her closer to you.

you pull back with an annoyed huff and gently take the camera off, turning to drop it on the bench behind you.

“go out with me sometime” you say when you turn around again.

jackie’s face just splits into a sparkling smile.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

[shitpissboi]

Alone Together

Summary- The holidays are always hell, and sometimes you just need to be alone together with your boyfriends and your dumbass friends. 

Word Count- 3476

Pairing- Katuski Bakugou x Reader x Hitoshi Shinsou 

Warnings- Swearing, detailed use of marijuana, stalker behavior (kinda, just given as a backstory at the very beginning), aged up characters.

 A/N- Hello everybody! This is actually the first fic that i’ve written in well over a year, so forgive me if my writing is still a little rusty! I hope you like this fic, and thank you for taking the time to read it! :) (Edit: Honeslty thank you so much to everyone that’s interacted with this post! I did not expect it too get so many notes, so thank you all!🥺🖤)

You sighed as you walked into your apartment, the stress of the past week weighing heavily on your shoulders. This entire week had been awful, not only had you been made to work over time almost every day this week at the cafe, a new regular has apparently made it his sole mission in life to make your life hell after you rejected his advances. He had asked for your number last week and you politely declined, telling him that you already had two wonderful boyfriends that made you extremely happy.  

Ever since then, he had made sure to come into the cafe every time you worked just to make your job as hard as possible. Calling you names, commenting about your appearance, making you remake every single thing he ordered several times, just to name a few things. Coupling all of that with everything else that happened this week, it would be safe to say that it was one of the worst weeks you’ve had this year. All you wanted to do now was curl up with your boyfriends, smoke, and watch trashy television. 

Said boyfriends were already on the couch as you walked into the living room, lavender locks leaning against the back of the couch, one hand using the remote to look for something to watch, the other hand running through the messy blonde hair that was sitting in his lap. Your other boyfriend was sprawled out across the couch, laying his head in sleep deprived man's lap as he was texting away on his phone, only the former noticing your quiet entrance. 

“Hey Kitten, how was work today?” The former asked, altering Katsuki to presence. He looked up from his phone the same time Hitoshi looked away from the TV, both of them noticing something was wrong right away. Katsuki immediately sat up and moved to the other end of the couch, leaving just enough room for you to sit comfortably in between the two men. You plopped onto the couch and threw your head back and just groaned, earning a small chuckle from the two.

“That bad Teddy Bear?” Katsuki asked, repositioning you so your head was laying on his lap and your legs were on Hitoshis. You just nodded your head and pushed your face into his abdomen, trying not to cry out of frustration.He ran his fingers through your hair as Hitoshi started to rub your sore feet, helping you to relax. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it.. Can we just smoke and watch shitty TV please..?” The lavender haired man smiled softly at the pout in your voice, carefully moving your legs to get up before you could even finish what you were saying. 

“Of course we can baby. We're gonna have to call Tape Face though, your shitty boyfriend smoked the rest of it last night.” The pomeranian growled out teasingly, effectively bringing a laugh out of you. 

“He’s your boyfriend too Katsuki.” You laughed, sitting up straight and stretching. You watched as Hitoshi walked back into the living room, carrying all the things you would need for the nights sesh. You smiled up at him gratefully and pulled out your phone, quickly texting Sero and asking if he was busy. Hitoshi set up the items on the table then sat down on the chaise part of the couch, pulling you to sit in between his legs. Katsuki had gotten up to get drinks and snacks for the three of you, making sure to also grab your favorite. Hitoshi started to scroll through Hulu, settling on My Strange Addiction for now, when your phone started ringing. Sero’s name flashed on your phone, answering it immediately. 

“Hey mami! What’s up beautiful?” You laughed as you felt Hitoshis grip tighten around you, Sero has been your friend since you were little kids, growing up in the same neighborhood. If he wasn’t dating Denki when he first introduced you to the Bakusquad then they would’ve thought you guys were together with how much you two flirt. 

“Hey Sero. I know it’s late notice but could you make a delivery tonight, preferably soon?” 

“Of course (Y/NN), your week not getting any better?” He asked, genuine worry seeping into his voice. 

“No, it hasn’t. And a certain SOMEONE,” You looked up at Hitoshi and nudged him with your elbow. “Smoked the rest of what we had this morning and didn’t bother to restock.” He simply rolled his eyes at you. 

“You know, if you keep being a brat, then i’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, Kitten.” Hitoshi teased. 

“Shinsou Hitoshi! You can’t say things like that on call!” You pouted, hitting him lightly in the chest. You could hear Sero, and Denki since they were always together, losing their shit over the phone. You growled and put the phone back to your ear. 

“You know I was gonna invite you guys to smoke with us but I don’t like to hang out with fucking bullies!” You growled into the phone, but started laughing as Kaminari immediately started to back track and apologize, making Sero laugh even harder.

“Just your ass over here already, and bring Kiri and Mina too if they want, we haven’t hung out as a group in forever.” You rolled your eyes as you heard Denki runoff in the background, yelling at Kiri and Mina to get their asses ready, then hearing a loud thud, making your and Hitoshi look at each other curiously. 

“We’ll be over in 20 minutes babes... God dammit Denks how many times do I have to tell you not to ru-” The phone quickly hung, making you two roll your eyes yet again, you swear that over excited dumbass is one of the only things that can make Sero lose his never ending patience. You gently threw your phone onto the coffee table and relaxed back into the purple haired man. He kissed your forehead and wrapped himself around you tightly, allowing you to fully relax into his embrace. 

-

About 25 minutes later, a knock startles you from your happy daze. Seeing as Katsuki had taken Hitoshi’s previous position, Hitoshi your position against Katsuki, and you snuggled into Katsuki’s side, you got up to answer the door. As soon as you opened the door you were trapped by a hug from Sero. You relished in the hug for a couple seconds before pulling back and letting him, followed by Denki, Mina, and Kiri. Denki and Kiri immediately made a bee line for the couch, fighting over who would get a hug from their best friend first. (Hitoshi and Katsuki respectively.) 

“Well it’s nice to see you guys too, damn.” You mumbled, laughing a little at the end as you see your boyfriends immediately get annoyed with the two loud intrusions. 

“How much you wanna bet they’ll be dead within 30 mintues?” Mina said, pulling you into a side hug.  

“I give it 20. Tops.” Sero stated as you hug Mina back, leaning into the peck she gave you on the cheek before going to wrangle Kiri in before Katsuki tried to blow him up. 

“How’re you doing babes?” Sero asked, turning toward you while he slid his backpack off. 

“I’m okay right now, a lot better than earlier. I’m so fuckin ready to get stoned though.” You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. 

“I’m just glad that you're feeling better. I swear the next time that bastardo shows his face i’m gonna beat his ass.” He growled, cracking his knuckles to try to be intimidating. 

“Get in line Tape Face! Now get the fuck over here so we can get this started!” Katsuki yelled, making you let out a small giggle. Sero followed you into the living room where the chaos had already started. Denki was being half heartedly being consoled by Mina as he cried at Hitoshi for cuddling Katsuki and not him. Meanwhile Hitoshi was glaring daggers and Kiri, who was sitting in your previous spot, and addimently talking to Katsuki. 

You simply rolled your eyes and sat at the end of the chaise, Sero sitting in between your legs on the floor. He pulled a ziplock bag out of his backpack and grabbed the grinder off the table, promptly starting to break up the bigger nugs and put them into the grinder. You reached around him and grabbed your bong and a water bottle, pouring some water into the bong. Hitoshi had noticed you guys sit down and grabbed the bottle out of your hand when you were done, trading it with a lighter. Not even a couple minutes later Sero was handing you the grinder and you opened it, starting to pack a bowl while he got the stuff ready to roll a blunt.

You packed the bowl as full as you could and held the lighter to the bowl, starting to inhale. About 10 seconds later, when the chamber was sufficiently filled with smoke, you pulled the bowl out and inhaled again, relishing the feeling of the smoke settling into your lungs as you passed the bong and lighter to Sero. You held it for a couple more seconds before slowly letting the smoke out, feeling yourself relax with the exhale. You took the bag sitting next to Sero and continued to grind for him as he took a hit before passing it to Hitoshi. 

You watched Hitoshi take a hit as you continued to twist the grinder back and forth, smiling when he grabbed Katsuki by the collar and exhaled the smoke into his mouth. Katsuki blushed furiously, always being caught off guard when the younger man did things like that, and angrily buried his face into his neck. Hitoshi smirked as he looked down, handing the bong off to an unsuspecting Kiri. (Kiri, Denki, and Mina seriously didn’t realize you guys started until they were dead ass handed the bong-) 

Pulling your attention away from your lovers, you handed the full grinder to the man below you, seeing that he already had a blunt wrap split and emptied out. However he just handed the grinder and the tray to Hitoshi, knowing the exhausted man can roll a much prettier blunt than he can. Your head snapped up as you heard Denki start coughing and watched as Mina ripped the bong out of his hands.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to cough into the bong Denki! I swear every time you hit a bong you cough into it!” She yelled, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the water off the outside of the glass instrument. 

“You're still coughing into the damn bong Kaminari?!” You exasperated, staring at him bewildered. It’s been a good couple months since you had all been able to get together, and in that time he had finally decided to move in with Sero. Sero was the second biggest stoner you’ve ever met, just being beat by Hitoshi, and his favorite thing to use was a bong, you would’ve thought he had taught him by now. 

“No matter how many times I tell him he still does it, so now I make him roll a blunt or use a pipe.” Sero shrugged, moving so he could sit between his boyfriend’s legs instead. 

“It’s not my fault my lungs are so bad! Whenever I fry myself it fucks up my lungs!” He whined, leaning forward and draping himself of the latino dramatically. 

“Which is exactly why you should learn how to use the fucking bong, idiot.” Katsuki spoke up, seemingly over his flustered state for the moment. Denki just whined dramatically, causing you all to sigh in irritation. Mina rolled her eyes and took her hit before passing it off to you. You gripped it tightly and stood up on the couch, very carefully going over to Katsuki and sitting in his lap, his arms immediately wrapping around you and his chin resting on your shoulder.  

You held the bong against your lips and went to light the bowl only for Katsuki to snatch it from you, making your lean away and glare at him. He smirked at you and flicked the lighter on, bringing it to the bowl. You rolled your eyes and smirked, putting your mouth back to the bong and inhaling as he lit it for you. You inhaled for a good 15 seconds before he pulled the bowl away, allowing you to inhale the smoke into your lungs. You handed the bong off to him and watched as he leaned it, very clearly wanting you to share the hit with him. 

You smiled at the secretly needy man holding you, softly tangling your hand with the hair at the base of his neck and gently pushing him forward. You tilted your head and let the smoke flow from your parted lips into his open mouth before sealing your lips together. Your lips molded together perfectly with his, the rest of the smoke seeping through your nose before you pulled away, still smiling. 

You looked on as he opened his eyes, a soft smile settling onto his features before he exhaled fully. You closed your eyes and leaned against him, contentment washing over your body for the first time during this hell week. He chuckled and leaned back against the couch again, taking you with him. You listened to him take another hit and felt as he inhaled and exhaled, feeling the smoke blow across your head as he blew you. He handed the bong off and let his head rest on the back of the couch, slightly tightening his hold on you. 

You heard Kiri take another hit as Mina, Sero, and Denki started another fight, letting out a giggle and Katsuki and Hitoshi let out a groan at the same time. You felt Katsuki reach up but paid it no mind until Hitoshi spoke up.

“Hey! That’s no fuckin fair Katsu! You can’t just turn off your hearing aids and leave us to suffer!” Hitoshi let out, holding the frash blunt in the side of his mouth while he signed for Katsuki. Your eyes snapped open and you sat up, giving the blonde your own glare, starting to sign for him. 

“Suki! You said you were going to leave them on this time!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest when you were done using your hands. 

“I’m not gonna listen to these shitty extras fight the whole time, so until they shut the fuck up, i’m leaving them off.” He signed, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“You’re such a fukin asshole suki!” You grumbled, making sure to not sign to him. He just stuck his middle finger up at you and laughed. You just turned away and looked to Hitoshi, taking the blunt out of his mouth and grabbing the lighter. He tried to grab it back but stopped when he saw the mischief in your eyes, sitting back to watch you. You lit the blunt and took a long drag, passing it to Sero on the ground before climbing on Hitoshis’s lap. You gently grabbed his face and opened his mouth slightly with your thumb. 

You let the smoke fall from your lips and past his, watching as he sucked in the hit before dipping down to kiss him, raking your right hand through his hair. He pushed up into the kiss, making sure to make a show of grabbing your ass, opening his eyes slightly to lazily glance over at Katsuki, smirking to find him growling at you two. 

“Oh come on, get a room you horny lil freaky fucks.” Denki called out, making you burst everyone but Katsuki and Hitoshi burst out into laughter, the latter just deadpanning. You fell too the side to the side of Hitoshi, bumping into Katsuki’s still crossed legs, pulling yourself up when you calmed yourself down. 

“What in the fuck did you just call us?!” You asked, noting that Katsuki was signing to Hitoshi and asking what in the hell Denki just said. Said man just shrugged, leaning back against the couch. 

“A horny little freaky fuck.” He stated as if it was the most normal thing in the world, causing Mina, Kiri, and Sero to start laughing again. Katsuki had turned his hearing aids on again at this point and had heard what he said. 

“If you call my boyfriend and girlfriend that again i’m gonna kick your fucking ass dunce face.” Katsuki rumbled, grabbing his friend by the collar. You just laughed and reached over to his arm, lacing your hand with his and pulling it back to you, kissing the back of it and wrapping it around yourself. He tightened his grip on you and used his other hand to hold Hitoshi’s, growling at Denki. 

Denki yelped and jumped off the couch, lowering himself and trying to hide behind Sero, crying Katsuki not to hurt him. Sero just mumbled a “Fucking idiot”, and pulled the yellow haired man against him, leaving his arm around his waist. By this time the blunt had gotten back around to Katsuki and he took his arm off you to take a big hit, moving to lean against the arm of the couch so he could continue holding his boyfriend's hand. 

The blond passed the blunt to you when he was done, and you quickly started to inhale, smiling at the familiar burn in the back of your throat. You inhaled for a good while before passing it over to Hitoshi, laying back so your head was now in your other lovers lap. He automatically brought a hand up to your head and raked it through your hair a couple times before simply resting it on top. 

You closed your eyes as it finally started to hit you, allowing you to fully relax into your lover. You tuned out the rest of the conversations and background noise easily, focusing on the feeling of Katsuki’s hand on your head and Hitoshi moving so he was laying on your lap while still holding Katsuki’s hand. The blunt got passed around a couple more times before it was finally done, the bong getting thrown in here and there. You had ended up in a position where sitting up against the back of the couch and his legs apart as you sat between them and leaned against him and the arm of the couch. Hitoshi had crawled between the older man's legs and laid his head in your lap, practically purring as you pet his hair.

You were brought back down to reality when Hitoshi got up to grab a drink and change the TV, putting on something funny and didn’t need to be thought about too much. You sat up to, much to your blonde lovers grievance, and reached toward Hitoshi with a pout. He just let out a chuckle and grabbed your favorite drink and snack off the table, handing them to you as he got comfortable in your lap again. You happily took a sip of your drink and set it next to you, making sure to screw the cap tight, before opening your snack.

You munched it absentmindedly and leaned back against the arm of the couch, smiling up at the blonde and offering one to him. He looked around before begrudgingly opening his mouth, allowing you to place the tasty treat inside. You giggled as he grumbled and looked away, still not used to his friends seeing him act “soft”. You heard your other boyfriend let out a laugh at the explosive hero, genuinely happy that he still continues to try and open up to those close to him, especially after the last couple being rough on everyone.

The holidays brought stress to everyone, the spike in crime making the heros (Kirishima, Denki, Katsuki, and Hitoshi.) over work themselves more than usual and become even more exhausted. While you, Mina, and Sero all had to deal with the wonders of working retail and food service during this time, always seeming to get stuck with the absolute worst customers that would threaten your job and life. 

The last month has clearly taken a chunk out of everyone, and the almost always rowdy group was just thankful to finally get a restful and relaxing night. Even if the group was full of impulsive ideas and even more impulsive decisions, they never felt more safe than when in each other's company, mastering the art of being alone together when it was truly needed. You smiled as you came to this realisation, knowing that no matter what happened or what obstacles would be thrown your way, as long as you had your boyfriends and your friends, everything was going to be alright. You are going to be alright.

Masterlist

Posted 12/19/2020

[infinitegalahad]

DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME

Summary: The one time Joe Toye saved you and the one time you saved Joe Toye.

Word-Count: 3.1k

WARNINGS: PLEASE READ! attempted suicide, descriptions of assault, blood/bruising, angst with a happy ending

A/N: Inspired by this post! When I was reading this and listening to Elton John, it hit me like a bus. It's not one of my best works, but I hope you enjoy! :)

Tag-list: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne @capsparkyspeirs

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Toye was one of the toughest sunva’ bitches (Guarnere’s words) that you had ever met. Tall, dark, and brooding, easy company respected and feared him. He had a gloomy expression and zero-tolerance from bullshit from anyone and anything. The number of fights you had seen him get into, the way he’d hold the collar of a soldier’s shirt, or simply the look of disappointment would make anyone shit their pants. You were a visual learner and always associated the men of easy company with the weather. Joe Toye to you was like a gloomy storm cloud, thunder booming behind it.

Unlike Joe Toye, a gloomy storm cloud, you were a ray of sunshine. The war was a tough time for all the man and your mere presence would shine brighter than a thousand stars. A natural smile always donned your face, and the men simply loved it. Your sweet voice was like a lullaby to them. Whenever they needed someone to be vulnerable with, you always had their backs as a close friend. You had always been someone who had tried to find the positive in life, despite it being hard. Your smiles and bright attitude had earned you the nickname of “sunshine” or for short, “sunny”. You wore the name with pride and whenever one of the men of easy company would call you it, a smile would grow as you’d shake your head. The men of easy company adored the ray of light you brought to the company.

Despite the differences, even if you were scared shitless of Joe Toye, he made one thing clear around the company; that nobody would hurt you.

Joe wasn’t one for nicknames or social interaction. You had talked to him a few times, but it was brief. His brooding appearance was intimidating and yet strangely so prepossessing to you. You knew that opposites attracted. Whether it be his dark features or the way he’d growl in his low voice, it would always make your cheeks warm.

He wouldn’t have to speak. If someone had been bothering you or making lewd remarks, he simply hovered over you. You’d see the man who’d be bothering you, looking like he had just pooped his pants, scram away. You turned to thank Toye, but he’d be gone in a flash. It made you feel guilty. You wanted to thank him-but he always slipped out of your fingers.

You confronted about the Toye's attribute. Guarnere would look at you and give you a little goose laugh, stating the same phrase.

“Means he’s gotta a lil’ crush on yah, sunny. Ain’t want nobody to hurt this girl.”

“But that’s what I’m confused about!” You would exclaim in frustration, “Why doesn’t he let me say thank you? Why does he only nod his head when I say hi? Why does he look at me and smile, but then he looks away? Why does he-“

“Jeez laweez girl!” Guarnere would interpret your little rant and pat your shoulder, “I got sisters, I know what I’m doin”. Just let it play out.”

Letting out a groan of frustration, you’d bury your hands in your face and let out a loud groan. It was simply hopeless. You were in the middle of a war, and Toye and you knew that love had no place in war. You were probably an annoying babbling idiot in Toye’s view.

But little did you know-Toye thought differently of you. There was something about you that would turn his face and show his dimples whenever you’d cheer up a soldier or help out a friend. Toye didn’t understand how you could be so damn cheery all the time, but something about you made him do something he had trouble doing-smiling.

———

The first time Joe Toye saved you was in Aldbourne.

You had been having trouble sleeping most nights. One night, you couldn’t stand twisting and turning in bed, so you opted for a late night walk. Aldbourne was a quaint town, and you knew that there were no threats surrounding you. If one of the men of Easy had found out, they’d be horrified, but you knew that you were capable of taking care of yourself.

There was not a single noise in the small town. It was an odd hour in the early morning with the fog covering Aldbourne with the sky still being pitch black. Wrapping your large jacket around your body, you looked down as you wandered down the road.

Joe had been acting strange lately. He was more distant from the crowds, simply avoiding all conversations, all but you. It wasn’t that he followed you around, but he looked after you. He spent his time around you. It was the first time you didn’t seem him as irritated or annoyed, at least when he was around you. Whenever Luz would look at or simply tease him, his face would scrunch your and he’d stand up to go give the company’s comedian a piece of his mind. You’d sigh and gently grab his arm, holding him back.

Normally, Joe would ignore you and move on. Nobody’s opinion mattered to him.

But with you-he felt like his whole world shifted. Your soft face and gentle touch would enchant him.

A grumble would escape Joe’s lips as he turned around to sit down. He’d mumbled something in your ear, in which didn’t mean much at the moment to you,

“What would the company do without you, y/n?”

Nobody ever called you by your real name except for two people; Eugene Roe and Joe Toye.

In the corner of your eye, you’d see a faint smile. It wouldn’t be caught by anyone by you.

You were prideful in yourself. You, making Joe Toye smile. Nobody would believe you. Maybe you had been the only one who caught onto it-but you were the sunshine of easy company. Joe Toye was a cloud who was almost dark and gloomy, and you were the sun that would outshine him.

Sure, it was childish, but it still made your cheeks warm up and a smile grow on your face. You were in the middle of a war, and making someone smile or happy was your job.

As you walked through the night, the muffled voices of sobs and curses could be heard. Buried in the collar of your jacket, you raised your head. The pained noises were coming from further down the road. You picked up your pace and hurried down the road to see one of the men in another company. He wasn’t someone you knew well, but you were familiar with it. His voice and mannerisms identified him as Lowery.

Lowery sat slunched under a lamppost, sobbing with a few broken bottles surrounding him. His cries of pain and curses only made your head break.

“Lowery…?” You whispered, loud enough for him to hear you.

Lowery still had his face in his hands but stopped his loud sobs. “Y/n...that’s you?” He said in a slurred tone, completely intoxicated.

“Yes, it’s me.” You said as you walked over and bent down to put a hand on his shoulder, “Do you know where you are?”

Lowery didn’t respond and simply looked down into his hands. You knew he would need some assistance getting back to his barracks and some water to ease him.

“Come on,” You gently stated as you grabbed his shoulders, “Let’s get you back”.

Out of nowhere, Lowery sprinted up and grabbed you, spinning you and pinning you to the lamppost. His hands attempted to grab your neck and you fought them off, screaming for help. One of his hands held your hands together as he dug through his holster to pull out his jump knife.

“You fucking tramp, shut your damn mouth.” He hissed, spit forming through your mouth. With a firm grasp on the knife, his feet stomped onto the soles on your boots as he began to slowly drag the knife towards your stomach. “Always smiling and acting all prissy and shit. If you this doesn’t shut you up, then I don’t know what wi-“

Suddenly, Lowery’s cheek was met with a pair of brass knuckles. He groaned in pain, holding his bloody cheek. Seeing your opportunity to escape, you wobbled away and fell down in shock. Covered by the darkness, you managed to make out two figures. Lowery, on the ground, and another tall figure making his way towards Lowery.

The rough voice made it clear that it was none other than Joe Toye.

Toye grabbed Lowery and dragged him to the lamppost, pinning him with a single hand choking this throat. Lowery’s skin has gone pale, covered in blood as he struggled to breathe.

“Damn you, Lowery. You ever threaten y/n again and I’ll kill you. Got it? I’ll kill you,” Joe had spat out at Lowery. Lowkey didn’t respond and he punched him again, except on the next cheek, making sure to leave him brushed and bloodied.

“I’ll kill you!” He hissed, and Lowery began to nod. The second time Joe spoke made you jump out of your little shock. Pushing yourself up from the mud, you began to run down the road away from Toye and Lowery. Toye had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

As you ran, it took you a second to stick it together. In the barracks, there was another empty bed and it had to have been Toye’s. You had told him about your late night walks and he wasn’t over the moon about them, scolding you as a father does to a child. Toye was worried about you, being a woman, getting attacked or lost or anything bad happening to you. You would smile and sway your shoulder, saying that you were fine.

Next time, you were going to listen to Joe Toye’s advice since he had saved your life.

———

The second time, you had saved Joe Toye’s life also in Aldbourne.

You had all been sitting in a pub. It was a typical Friday night; the men were drinking, laughing, and chatting about whatever was new. You sat at the edge of the bar, swirling your beer in your hand. The incident that had happened a few nights ago was still fresh in your mind. There were visible bruise marks on the side of your neck and hands. They burned and hurt, but there was nothing you could do. The memories were still fresh in your mind, and it made you go quiet. You had told the members of Easy about the occurrence, but left out the part of Toye.

He must have followed you to witness the attack. It creeped out you, but then again, you shouldn't had told him of your midnight walks. In a way, it was a brave and kind action of Toye. If hadn’t been there, Lowery could have hurt you or even worse-killed you. But you felt guilty for running off like a coward, not thanking him for saving your life.

You saw Toye around, but he always avoided you and the men. He was usually standoffish, but it had become more noticeable. He would prefer to be on his own, not bothered by anyone, even you or Luz. Luz attempted to converse with Toye, but Toye looked at him, grumbled, and walked away. Luz looked defeated and you would sit by his side to comfort him.

“It’s just Toye,” You would say, even though you were uncertain, “Sure he’s in a funk.”

You had seen Toye head out to take a leak, but he hadn’t returned in an hour. Slugging by the end of the bar, you looked at the ticking clock as the hands would slowly move by. He had been gone for a strange amount of time, and it was beginning to worry you. Aldbourne was a safe town, but what if? It had happened to you, it could happen to anyone, even someone was frighting as Joe Toye.

Since the men were either too distracted or drunk, you put your foot down and chose to go after Toye. Going up the stairs, you went to each floor and looked for him, but found nothing. Your worry began to increase as you began to pick up your pace and check every room for a sing-yet you found none. On the highest floor, you noticed that a door had been opened. It had to have been Toye-nobody else would go up this bar. Walking up the small staircase, you were greeted upon the night sky and the roof of an atrium. The roof was made of glass, held up chicken wire. Joe stood in at the edge, looking down. He hadn’t even noticed your presence as he took slow steps towards the edge.

Realizing, your heart dropped as you took slow steps, “Joe!” You called, panic in your voice. There was no response from him.

You chose to become louder, “Toye, it’s y/n. Look at me.”

Still, nothing but silence. You could see his head tilt down to look at the three stories below him. Tears began to form in your eyes. No, he couldn’t.

“Toye!” You yelled as the wind threw a big gust. “I know you can hear. Look at me. Please.”

Just as his foot was about to hang off of the edge, he froze in place. The voice was familiar. Hearing a voice he associated with happiness become distorted made his brain freeze. He became paralyzed. Letting out a shuttered sigh, he redacted his foot and turned to look at you.

Like you, Toye looked different. He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt anybody or intimating; but like a scared child. His dark eyes were red and puffy. Everything that you needed to know was right in front of you. Holding your hand out, your fingers bent, signaling Toye to come forward.

You murmured under your lips, “Let’s go.”

Toye turned around and walked over the atrium. Joe looked like hell as he  grabbed your hand, grasping onto as his life depended on it. You carefully lead him down the stairs. Reaching the end of the stairs, he did something you would have never imagined him ever doing. It was  human emotion that most men felt, but you never thought Joe Toye would do it.

Joe fell onto his knees, crying. Big tears falling down his face. His burly, worked hands glided up against the side of your legs. It took you back. You couldn't believe he was in tears. Just a minute ago he was standing on the edge of an atrium to a three-story drop and there he was, crying as he held onto your legs for comfort.

So you did what you did best for the men of easy company. Bending down, you wrapped your arms around his back as you gently ran them down his back.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” You whispered into his shoulder, “Let it all out. I was worried about you.” When you got Joe to look at you, you cupped a hand on his cheek. “Why did you go up there?”

Joe shook his head, unable to use words. You patted his cheeks in reassurance, “Well, we were all worried. I was worried about you. What would I have done without you?”

Inhaling, he tilted his head down as he pulled you close. His head rested in your stomach as he began to speak. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with you. I don’t know what got into me...It just seemed like an escape. But you came and put me back in the right place. Saved me from myself.”

“Consider it a favor returned,” You mentioned. Toye looked up at you, he knew about the night just like you did.

“By the way, thank you.” You thanked him as your hands rested on his shoulders, “I ran away only because I was scared…”

Joe’s face softened at your worry. You shook your head and clarified, “Not of you, I just...yeah. I was a little shaken up.”

Seeing your hesitance, Joe’s fingers touched your chin to lift it. His fingers ran over the developing bruise marks. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled you closer.

“They’re not as bad as you think.”

“Bullshit.” Toye hissed. You took his hands as he held them, “If I see that fucker again, he’ll be a dead man. Someone’s gonna fuckin’ die.”

Seeing the tension rise, you patted his shoulders as he looked up at you with a disappointed face. “Joe, I understand. But, I don’t want you to get hurt as well. Don’t it for me...Please?”

Looking up and down, Joe buried his head once again in your stomach and grumbled grumpily, “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

As his head rested, you brought your hands to stroke his dark hair. You hummed in response, “How so?”

“You’re so damn smiley all the time. Thought it was because you were a woman, but that ain’t it. You’re just a good person-and that’s hard to find now,” Joe hinted at. It was a confession of love, in his own way. You knew what he was trying to say. You smiled down at him and stroked his cheek, in which he laid into. “I don’t know, I just like being’ ‘round you. You make me a better person.”

“That’s the point of my nickname, Toye.” You stated, “You know I’m here for you. You know that I love you, right?”

Toye nodded his head as he stood up and held your hands, “Yeah, I do. From the first day I saw you.”

The two of you began to talk down the staircase, hand in hand. You tilted your head, a smile on your face.

“You're joking! I thought you hated me. Always thought you did.”

Toye shrugged his shoulders, “It’s hard to hate somebody as kind as you, doll. Just promise me one thing.”

You looked over at him and nodded. The two of you stopped at the door before entering back into the busy bar.

“Yes, Joe.”

“Don’t let the sun go down on me.”

Little did you know, those words would stick with you and Toye for the rest of the war. From Toccoa to Aldbounre to Brecourt to Bastogne-that was your phrase. You were the sun to Toye’s cloud. You brought the light instead of him, and he became a better person from your sheer positivity. Through hell and back, no matter what, you had kept your promise to Toye-Till death do you part.

[ramp-it-up]

Sundancer

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Minors DNI, Some pictures, Angst, Pining, drinking, explicit language, oral sex (female/male receiving), love fluff. All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from @honeysucklechocolatedrippin​ from the 100 smut prompts ask list. I got caught up with this one because I went back to the Show Runner AU.  I kinda love these two.  Hope you enjoy. Read Show Runner.

-------

This press tour was going to be all work. No play. 

Those were the strict rules that you were given.

This was the premiere film and television festival and January in Park City could be a fun, wild place and time, but you were on the clock. 

There would be no open flirting, touching, or even covert fucking while the cast was there. 

You listened to the lecture and smiled and nodded when appropriate.

Truth be told, you really weren’t paying attention, just waiting on your knees, naked and wet, to suck the shit out of his dick. 

When he gave you permission to of course.

You were determined to suck all those stupid ideas out of his brain along with all his cum when he gave you the chance. 

And Rafael was, indeed, without much coherent thought when you were done.

_____

Wednesday 

That conversation was of no consequence to you four days later when you landed in Park City. 

Daveed and Rafa had been there for two days and the rest of the cast was trickling in. 

You gathered your bag while answering a few questions from the paps and headed to your hotel alone, following the driver who held your name up outside baggage claim to a luxury suv.

You texted Rafael that you had landed, to which he just replied, “Good.”

No, ‘how was your flight,’ nothing. 

You sighed, assuming he was busy. 

He had been texting you nonstop for the past three days and now he wanted to play you. 

That was cool.

You relaxed as you took in the snowy scenery of snowy Park City. 

You were taken to a stunning tiny little chalet at the edge of the city and halfway up the mountain. 

The views were spectacular, the cute cozy kitchen fully stocked, and the fireplace was bomb.

As you took in all the antler decor, you texted Rafa again, hyped at the accommodations.

This is dope!

You made sure your cleavage was right in your v-neck sweater and took a selfie of you from above in the bedroom. 

I can’t wait to be on my knees for you later.

You saw the thought bubbles, but no response.

Cool cool cool. 

If that’s what he wanted. That’s what he would get. Ice.

You shook your head and looked in the refrigerator for water. You also found your favorite snacks. 

Production thought of everything. You’d thank Gwen later.

You relaxed on the couch until it was time to get ready for the mixer. 

The car was ready to go at 6:45, in time to get you fashionably late to the Television mixer at the Waldorf Astoria at 7.

Because of all the traffic, you didn’t arrive until 7:30, but you were chilling. You spotted your crew immediately, partly because they were the loudest. 

You loved this new family you made.

“Ayyyy! What’s cracking! We thought you’d never make it. Late flight? You want a drink?”

You laughed at Daveed, seeing that he was on his way to getting lit.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” 

He raised his cute ass eyebrow at you. “This grown folks shit. You sure?”

“Yes. I’m grown. I need to catch up to you! I misjudged the time to leave my chalet. What time did you all leave yours?”

“Ummmm. I walked downstairs like 20 minutes ago. The whole cast is staying here. You’re the only one staying on the other side of town.”

“Oh.” 

You didn’t know what to say as Daveed turned to go get your drink.

You looked around and saw a lot of actors you’d love to work with, some you already had, and some you knew to stay away from.

You spotted Rafa’s golden hair on the other side of the room. 

You weren’t going to go after him, and you didn’t need to, because some of your cast mates enveloped you and Daveed brought you a drink.

You were having too good a time to worry about Mr. Artistic Integrity.

You two circled the room, never really ending up in the same place. You finally saw him with Gwen and got a chance to talk. Rafa saw you approach. He nodded.

“Hey, Long time no see. You make it in ok ?”

You looked at Rafael for an extra beat. He’d seen you up close and personal three days ago when you’d ridden his face. 

But you were an actor. You could play this game.

“Hey Casal. Yeah, I got a few hours ago.” 

You turned to the logistics producer. 

“Gwen! My chalet is so dope!”

She raised her eyebrow at you. 

“That’s great! So, you wanted peace and quiet and away from the rest of us, ay?” Gwen laughed as you and Rafa smiled politely. You were seething. 

“Trying to avoid all the parties. I get it now, although I thought it was weird that you declined accommodations.”

“You know our girl, always a loner.”

Rafael took a sip of his drink, looking at you over it. Your blood boiled but you turned and smiled at Gwen.

“Yeah. On my INFJ shit. What’s the lineup for tomorrow?”  

You made small talk to avoid cussing Rafael the fuck out. He stood there for a minute, listening and being an adorable muthafukin asshole. 

Other people came up and you didn’t even notice Rafa step away. But you spotted him, in a corner with that little twat Ava with the tight little body. Just his type.

He saw you stalking out of the mixer as he chatted her up.

—-

Two hours later, you were cozy in the hot tub, smoking some kush to relax, scrolling your phone. 

A TMZ post from your explore page caught your eye. 

There was a picture of Daveed, next to Rafa and Ava, who looked pretty close and fucking beautiful together. 

The gossip site gushed over the picture of the Bay Boys, noting the ‘adorable couple’ and their mingling at the mixer and somehow sneaking in a not so subtle hint that they were staying at the same hotel.

That was the final straw. You saw it all. Rafa wanted you far away from him while he fucked this little miniature Bratz doll. Bet.

It was only midnight. You were going to get your own plastic action figure for the night.

——

Thursday 

The next morning, you met up with the crew at the suite which was set up for the series press day. 

You went straight to Chelsea who was set up in the bedroom of the suite.

You gave her a hug and took off your sunglasses. Your eyes were puffy.

“Damn girl. You did have fun last night. I got just the thing for those circles.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and let her work her magic.

You emerged ten minutes later and went and got something to eat and a bottle of water from the catering station set up in the kitchen. You watched D and Rafa charm the interviewer. 

You took a deep breath. You could do this.

Ten minutes after that, you find yourself sitting in a chair with the cast lined up, somehow seated next to Rafael.

As the first interviewer was setting up, you got comfortable in your chair. Being a professional.

“I see you had fun last night.”

You looked over at Rafael as if surprised to see him there.

“I’m sorry?”

He smirked at you.

“I said it looks like you had fun with Michael last night.”

He held up his phone and you squinted at a post of you and your new friend, a highly sought after actor who had been in one of Rafa’s favorite movies. 

The pic was from after you went back out to the club last night. You were hugged up close.

You looked in his eyes and saw that he felt some kinda way. He had some fucking nerve.

You smirked. 

“Yeah. He’s really truly a dope person. Not just beauty, but brains too. I love an intelligent man. We… talked all night.” 

Rafa’s smile slipped. You sat back and put on a megawatt smile for the reporter.

The entire day was filled with your secret shots and animosity toward Rafa. 

You couldn’t wait to talk to him in private and tell him not to call your cell phone ever again.

Reporter: “This show has many complex relationships, and you are at the center of two of them that are just developing as the series begins. What do you do to ease into a new relationship?”

You leaned back and crossed your legs.

“That is a great question. Let’s just take an example of, say, meeting someone at... a club?”

Daveed leaned in front of Rafa and said, “This is not a true story from last night by the way.”

“Of course not,” you quickly replied and winked. Everyone laughed, everyone but Rafa.

“What I’ve found recently that works wonders is: ‘Oh my god you’re so much better than the last person I was with.’”

Everyone was dying laughing.

Rafa choked on his water. You leaned over and patted him on the back. “You good?”

He just glared at you. You shrugged and kept it moving.

“No, but really. You should start off in a relationship where you can be open and honest. There’s really no relationship if you can’t have that.”

Rafael cleared his throat, but you refused to look at him.

The press day continued.

After eight hours of interviews, you were ready to get out of there, so while Rafa and D were playing host, you managed to get out and to the car. 

You were exhausted of the tension.

On your way to the chalet, Rafa texted you.

‘We need to talk.’

You huffed. Now he wanted to talk. 

Well, tough shit. 

You blocked his number. 

You couldn’t function like this right now. You and him could break it off next week in LA. He was right, you were on the clock.

That night at the Midnight showing, you sat with Michael. 

Might as well try to have some fun. The paparazzi were snapping lots of pictures with you two.

While Mike took a quick interview, you made your way to the bar alone.

“You’ve not answered any of my texts. Or my calls.” 

You rolled your eyes at Rafael.

“You’ve texted and called?” 

You shrugged and took a drink.

“Look. We can do all that back in Cali next week. Gotta keep it professional here, isn’t that the deal?”

You downed your drink and walked back over to Michael, Rafael boring a hole in your back. 

He left you alone after that.

——

Friday

The next day and night were much the same, a cast interview and screening of two episodes during the day and another industry party at night. 

Rafa being so busy made it easy to stay away from each other.

You got back to your place with a bottle of tequila about midnight. 

You were flying out the next day and you should have some fun, even if it was not what you’d envisioned before you arrived in Park City. 

You hated Rafael Casal. 

But you refused to cry. Again.

An hour later, you looked up from your drunken haze to see Rafa standing over you. 

He looked so damn good in this dream.

“You shouldn’t drink a whole bottle of tequila in a hot tub, especially alone.”

“What the fuck do you care? You’re probably fucking Ava ten ways from Sunday right now.”

Dream Rafa raised his eyebrow at you and shook his head.

“Why would I want to fuck Ava?”

“Right? Especially when you could have all this.”

You stood up, almost falling and showing off your wet, naked body.  You giggled as he appreciated you, his eyes sweeping down your body.

Dream Rafa moved closer to you and grabbed your hand as you wobbled. 

“Let’s get out and get you some water.”

He helped you out and wrapped you in one of the huge white fluffy robes that you’d found in the closet.

He led you to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

You drank, your head clearing, but just a bit.

You kept staring at Dream Rafa, who was regarding you steadily, a weird look on his face.

When you finished, he walked you to the bedroom and watched as you lay down. You looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was 1:30 am.

You opened your robe and turned to see Dream Rafa in bed with you.

“How convenient. I’m so so horny Dream Boy. Haven’t had any dick since last week.” 

You untied the robe and grabbed your breasts, squeezing them and rolling your nipples, arching your back.

Rafael watched you hungrily.  

“Help me to get off. Fuck me, Dream lover. The real Rafa doesn’t want me anymore…”

You moved your hand down to your core and started playing in it, moaning and watching Rafa watch you.

As he licked his lips, you brought your hand up and let him taste the wetness on your fingers. He hummed, then took your hand in his.

“Not like this. I want you. Fully present and clear headed. But I want you. And we need to talk.”

He kissed the palm of your hand and covered you with the robe again.

You groaned and turned away from him.

“Even the Rafael of my dreams reject me? I can’t believe I’m in love with such a jackass.”

You didn’t feel Rafa pull you close as you started shoring.

—

Saturday

You woke up alone, mad at the sunlight. Your head was pounding. 

Your mouth was parched, but you found a bottle of water on the bedside table. 

You grabbed it, grateful that you got it on the way to the bedroom last night. 

As you sat up and drank, you groaned as you thought back to your dream. 

You had to get him out of your system.

You got up and went to the kitchen, halfway expecting to see him there. 

You sighed with something that must have been relief when he wasn’t there. 

You took your water and some grapes to the little kitchen bar and sat there, eating and drinking slowly with your head in your hand.

You jumped when you heard a key in the front door and stared when Rafa let himself in. 

“Look who’s up. Bet you’ve got a doozy of a headache.” 

You just continued to gape as he put his bags down on the counter. He handed you a bottle of aspirin.

“You’ll need these.” He put some pedialyte in front of you. “And this.”

“Wait. Did you just let yourself in? With a key?”

“Yeah. This is my chalet. I own it.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“I thought you had a hotel room.”

“I do. This is business so production put the cast up there. D and I decided to join.”

Your heart clenched at the fact he did not want you there too. What was this reality? Then you thought about the dream.

“Wait. Were you really here last night?” 

You were confusion.

Rafa smiled at you. 

“You want something to eat? Gotta get something in your stomach besides tequila and grapes.” 

You groaned and held your head at the realization that last night was not a dream.

“Fuck. Did I say all that? Did I do all that? Out loud?” 

You peeked at him through your fingers.

That smile. “Yeah.” 

You were mad. He looked to fucking happy. 

“Well, don’t take it personal. I was zooted. When I’m sober, I hate you Rafael.”

He frowned. “Are you sober now?”

You opened the bottle of aspirin and drank some pedialyte. 

“Unfortunately, yes. Very sober.”

Rafa moved next to you.

“I’m going to come closer so I don’t have to yell.”

He tipped your chin up with two fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m in love with a fucking brat.”

You were ready to fight.

“I’m a brat? I’m a BRAT?” 

You leaned back, your hands on the counter behind you to get some space from the electricity bouncing between you.

“You ignore me as soon as I land in the same city as you, and then you put me out here in this secret hideaway so you can fuck with that Ava chick.” 

You closed your eyes because you’d be damned if you cried right now. 

“I thought we agreed that we’d talk to each other before we tired of each other and got with other people?”

Rafa leaned close to you, caging you in with his arms on the counter beside yours. 

You could barely breathe, the emotions were getting the better of you. You just wanted to kiss him.

“Who told you that I fucked Ava?” 

This time you raised your chin on your own.

“No one had to tell me. I saw the pictures of you two together. I can read, Rafa.”

“Not very well in this situation, I’m afraid.”

Rafa shook his head and looked down. Then looked back up at you with those damn eyes.

“You also don’t listen. Did you even hear what I said? I just said I love you.”

You just stared at him.

“Wait… what?”

Rafa brought his hips closer to yours, standing up tall. You wanted them on you.

“I love you, you fucking brat. Why would I want Ava when the woman I love has all this.”

And he reached for you, opening the tie on your robe. He sighed as he moved his hands on your brown skin. He was home.

“I want you to listen. Listen before you jump ahead and try to argue.”

You were about to say something and clamped your mouth shut at his warning glance.

“I told you, this was work. And we agreed not to go public with our relationship yet.”  

He saw you wanting to protest.

“We agreed.” 

His hands spread against your stomach, thumbs on your warm nipples.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was controlling myself. I wanted to meet you at the airport, but the paps are swarming.”

Rafael's blue eyes were now dark.

“And I didn’t stash you away because I wanted to fuck Ava, but because this is my home and I wanted you in it.” 

Rafa finally kissed you, and you took his tongue in your mouth, wanting to own a part of him.  Your moan while you kissed was getting him even harder.

“And when you sent me that picture of you in the bedroom, I wanted to run over here and take you in every room,  but I couldn’t. Still working. Just had to jack off when I could. To that picture.”

You moaned as his words made you drip down your thigh.

He pressed his pelvis to you and you could feel how hard he was. You took a ragged breath and forced your hands to remain on the counter. 

But you looked up into those burning blue eyes. You were wet and ready.

“It was killing me knowing that you were so close, sleeping in my bed without me, naked in my hot tub without me, and that I couldn’t touch you, hold you. Fuck the shit out of you. Hear you scream my name.”

“Tire of you? God, I wish I could get tired of you. I want you all the time, I can hardly function when you’re not around.”

He kissed across your collarbone to the other side of your neck. You were definitely weak.

“I was coming over that first night, but I saw you going out. To the club. Where it seems you hooked up with Mike.” 

Rafa bit down on your pulse point.

“Rafa, I…”

Rafa licked the spot he just bit. 

“Shhh. I know you didn’t get with him, but you were a bit of a bitch at the Q and A day. And then you took him to the midnight screening.”

Rafa was appraising your body possessively now.

“You tried to make me think that you were with him; that he was touching you like this.”

Rafa grabbed your breasts and squeezed your nipples between your fingers. You arched into his hands.

“It was like you were teasing me.” 

His hands moved down your torso and around to your ass, squeezing and pulling your cheeks apart and ghosting your intimate parts with his fingers.

“You know I don’t like to be teased.”

He released you and took two steps back, leaving you feeling bereft.

You were panting in the middle of his kitchen. You felt what it was like to be teased.

“Rafa, I’m sorry. Please…”

Rafa was two steps ahead of you. He was pulling his Oaklandish hoodie over his head. Then he shook his head at you.

He bent his head to your breast as he lifted it roughly to meet his lips. He drew your hard bud between his lips and grazed it with his teeth. 

Rafa nipped and sucked your flesh roughly as he licked the fingers in his other hand and reached between your legs.

“Did you want Mike to touch your cunt like this?”

“No...only you Cash…”

He traced his fingers between your wet lips, causing you to shudder and moan. Then he started to tease your clit.

“Tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you love me.”

“I..I…” You didn’t know when it happened, but it did. “Fuck it. I love you Rafael.” 

You sigh in relief and with desire as he pushed his fingers deeper into you.

He moaned softly in your ear as he pressed you back against the island.

“Good girl. Now tell me more. Tell me you love what I’m doing to you right now. Tell me you love this shit.”

“I love it so fucking much,” you squeaked, holding on to his shoulders for dear life, your nails digging in.

As he pumped his fingers, you wriggled and started to grind against his hand. As you wriggled more, he cursed under his breath.

“Fuck! Stay still.”  

His tongue licked up and down your neck as his hand went faster and faster, playing you like an instrument.

You were getting so close, and Rafa could feel it. So he stopped and stepped back again, panting while he tasted his fingers and leaving you quivering and emotional.

You refused to beg, but he knew what you needed.

“I want to punish you for not listening to me and your heart, but I can't because I’d be punishing myself.”

He walked toward you again, put his hands on you and slid down your body as he knelt before you.

Rafa looking up at you like that made you fall in love all over again. 

He leaned forward and kissed your lower lips oh so tenderly. Then, he licked them, and you had to hold on to the counter again. Then he started talking.

“I’ve been hard for you ever since you texted me that you touched down.” 

He kissed each of your thighs and lifted one up and rested it on his shoulder. You were not ready.

“I was so pissed off all day. Until I saw you that night.”

Rafa lightly licked a long stripe between your legs.

He pulled back and looked at your pussy, as if entranced.

“But, I stayed away from you at the mixer because I knew I would drag you to a bathroom and bend you over the sink…”

Rafa slowly rolled his tongue over your slit. You held your hand over your mouth as you watched him.

He looked up at you and chuckled. 

“No close neighbors. Let me hear you.” 

He sighed as he looked at you again. 

“I wanted to take you in the bedroom at the suite during the press day and put your ankles around your ears to dig out that attitude.”  

Rafa licked you again, making you tremble and moan loudly.

“I decided to come and give you an ultimatum last night, but I get here and you were so cute and drunk and said that you loved me.”  

He graced you with a smile. You smile back and brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I know you said that I don’t own you. But you own me. Body and soul. I’m starving for you.”

And then he dove in, making you gasp as he eagerly parted your lips with his tongue and started to flick it back and forth over your clit, grasping your ass and your leg to support you and keep you in place.

This time he didn’t stop. He licked and sucked and swiped, his head moving back and forth as he ate. He did it until your eyes rolled back into your head and you were screaming his name. He increased his pace and intensity until you were a quivering, moaning mess. 

You come on Rafa’s face in the middle of a ski chalet in Park City, Utah.

You were still quivering as you watched him stand up, take off his shirt and wipe his face with it.

“So, you can take your flight back to LA in a couple of hours, or you can stay until Monday and we can be seen together tonight. In public.”

Your face lit up as he led you to the bathroom. You were catching on.

“And we will be ‘good friends’ for a few weeks until we let on.”

“Now, you’re listening.” Rafa was smiling wide now.

“Wait, does Diggs know about us?” Rafa started taking off his pants. You needed what was inside.

“Nevermind. I know the answer, Jackass.”  

You ignored Rafa’s laugh as you began to make up for lost time.

-------

Read the next part, Scene Stealer Tagging: 

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[vemuabhi]

Your Favourite

Hello everyone! 

From this day onwards, I’ll post exact 7 different stories/HC’s/Art of Sanji on the occasion of his birthday. (Aka from 26th Feb to 4th March)

I hope you support this Sanji week of mine! (a like and reblog would be amazing and Comments are always appreciated!) If you see any mistakes, please forgive me. Thankyou.

I hope you like it!

Modern Universe

Pairing : Sanji X Reader

Warnings : Noting but fluff! Happy ending!

Word Count : 1.5K

Summary : Reader is a regular at Sanji’s cafe and everyday receives a compliment or a small writing on the order. ( Aka Cup) This makes the reader so happy and slowly develops a crush on him. One day due to turn of some events, Reader asks him out. For which he becomes very happy and of course happy ending!

A/N : I was listening to BTS Black Swan (Clickable) while I wrote this. Listen to it for more feels! I assure you, you wont regret listening to it.

You sat in your usual place with the hot beverage on you table. As you continued to work on your laptop, you took small sips of your drink. But sure you weren’t totally concentrated on your work thanks to a certain blond barista. He always smiled at you whenever your eyes met, replacing the embarrassment with heart fluttering. It was just a small crush, nothing much. Well, it wasn’t like he was only nice to you. He was polite to all the customers. He always made you look forward to coming here every evening at sharp 5 was because of one thing. You again took your cup and looked at the writing on it.

“You look so cute when you smile”, you smiled looking at it. It was just a crush.

On a very stressful day, you came to this café and placed your order. The same blond, served your order. You took a sip of that drink and instantly, fell in love with the flavour. You cooled down because of the texture and the taste of the drink. It was heavenly. You drank it as your mind slowly relieved you of your negative and stressful thoughts. You smiled as you placed your empty cup down on the table.

Then you noticed, a beautiful handwriting was on the cup. It said, “Thanks for the smile”. Your eyes widened with surprise as you looked at the blond. He just served an order and then looked at you and smiled. You took your belongings and also the cup and left the café. You looked at the cup one more time and took a picture of it. This was the only nice thing happened to you all week. So it didn’t seem silly at all in that moment. Now even after becoming a regular to this place, he never once forgot to write note for you and you never missed taking the photo of the notes. It became a routine for you. Every time you opened your gallery, these photos would come into your view and would make you smile. You made sure to tell your friends Kidd and Killer about this café and its delicious drinks. They also visited the café and really liked it. That day, you saw that he wrote, “Thank you so much”, on your cup. Kidd and Killer were not always with you but they did become regulars to the café because of you.

One evening you entered the café and went to order but, the blond wasn’t there. You looked around as you scanned the place with your eyes. He wasn’t in the café. Your order was given to you. You took it and sat. You opened your laptop and started to work. Your mind didn’t allow you to work peacefully. You couldn’t finish your work properly and wasted 2 hours. You placed your things in your bag and went towards the door to leave. Just when you were about to exit, then the blond came in. He was wearing causal outfit and not the usual uniform of the café. Your eyes locked with his and he smiled at you and for the first time, he talked to you, “Oh! Are…Are you leaving?”

You of course couldn’t say that you were leaving because he wasn’t there. So you just nodded. His jaw clenched then he looked at the counter and again at you.

“Just wait for a minute please”, he rushed over to the counter and within seconds he made a different kind of drink, which you never tried in this place. He quickly scribbled on the cup and came towards you. He handed it over to you. You tried to open your purse to give him money but he placed his hand on yours and said, “Not required. Just take it as a gift. Please”. He pulled his hand back and gave you a quick bow, then went to the employees’ only room.

You left with a smile on your face. You took a sip of the drink and then you noticed that it was so unique and different. You never drank this type of drink ever in your life. This was delicious and had smooth texture. It instantly became your favourite. You then looked at the cup to see what he wrote and it was, “9am to 12pm + 7pm to 11pm”

‘Dang. He wrote his timings’, you smiled thinking that. Then your eyes widened. ‘So… is he expecting to see me during these timings? Does he know about my… crush?’ you didn’t knew what to do. Well, even if the drinks were amazing, your reason for going there every day was… him. You remembered about the work you had to do that day and rushed home. ‘Whatever… I can regret later. I’ll go at 7pm tomorrow’, you thought as you drank your drink.

Next evening you came at 7 and looked at the handsome barista. His eyes clearly twinkled as he saw your form. You went to him and said, “Yesterday, the drink you gave me, it was amazing. I guess it became my favourite now. What is it called?”. He placed his hand on the back of his neck and said, “Thank you so much, but… I didn’t give it a name yet. It’s a new drink which needs to be added to the menu. No one tried it yet, except... for you.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“That… that was a new drink you came up with and it’s not even on the menu?!”, you said as you placed your hand on your mouth. It was shocking for you. He was this talented and the new release he planned was tasted by you first. He chuckled at your reaction and nodded as his hands caught the marker.

“That was super good! I’m sure it will be a huge hit when you add it in your menu”, you said to him as he looked at you and then again onto the cup as he wrote something. He handed you the cup and you noticed that it was the new drink as yesterdays. You smiled and thanked him. You looked at the writing and it said, “Your expressions are so pure, so innocent”. It wasn’t like the daily compliments and pickup lines. It… kinds felt personal. Your cheeks turned pink. You sat at a table and started to work on your laptop with enthusiasm.

As you were working, then suddenly your eyes caught a glimpse of a very beautiful lady who entered the café. She straight went towards the counter and started to talk to the blond. She had orange hair and wore a crop top making her thin waist visible. She was gorgeous. His eyes turned into hearts as soon as he saw her. He then gave her 2 cups of drinks for which… she didn’t seem to… pay for? You didn’t knew that but… your eyes followed her till she exited the café.

‘Was she his girlfriend?’, you thought seeing the way she talked to the blond in a very familiar manner. ‘How could I, compare to her?’, you thought as you sipped your drink. It was delicious but… you didn’t feel like to drink anything now. ‘Why did I even think that I had a chance? Why did I even developed this stupid crush on a man, who was taken? Of course with his looks and behaviour he should be in a relationship by now! God… I’m so stupid’, your mind was filled with different thoughts. After a while you got up and went towards the counter. You smiled at the blond and said, “Your girlfriend is really beautiful”

His gave a confused look as you said that. “I’m sorry but… I don’t have a girlfriend”, he replied.

“Oh? But the lady who just came here, I.. I thought she was your-”

“Nope! She is just a friend”, he didn’t let you finish your sentence. You were a bit glad that he said it.

“So, you are single?”, you questioned. For which he smirked and leaned a bit on the counter. He looked into your eyes and said, “Yes. I am single. Do you want to ask me out or something?”

“Yes”, you said it without even thinking. His smirk was replaced with a shock now. Realising what you did, you thought of brushing it off but you heard, “Really? You aren’t kidding right?”, he questioned. His eyes were looking for a serious answer, so you didn’t wanna lie. ‘If he rejects, I can regret later’, you thought as you took a deep breath.

“I’m serious, I really am asking you out but, only if you want ofco-”

“YES! YES!”, he practically shouted and made everyone to look at you two. He apologised and everyone went back to what they were doing. Then you noticed him placing some cups on a tray. But… They didn’t seem to have any writings on them. Another worker came and took the plate to serve the customers.

“You didn’t write anything on those cups”

“Yeah… Its… Its actually… only you. I only write on your cup. I thought you knew”, he said making your heart beat even faster. ‘Why was he doing this to my heart? and why didn’t I noticed it before’, you thought as you both blushed.

You both kept quiet not knowing what to say after that. You decided to break the ice and asked, “I never got to know your name. What is it?”

“Its Sanji. May I know your name please”, he asked

“Its Y/N”.

“Oh that's the name of my new drink, what a coincidence”, he playfully said as you raised your eyebrow and looked at him puzzled. 

“Don't look me like that, its a joke”, he said.

After someways you got to know, that it wasn’t a joke. He literally included your favourite as “Y/N’s Favourite” in the menu and everyone loved that drink. You got yourself a drink named after you which was super tasty. You were sure it became everyone’s favourite after that day. You blushed as Kidd and Killer teased you for that. 

“Damn I’m lucky”, you said as you looked at Sanji. His cheeks turned pink as he heard you say that. You both smiled at each other.

XOXOXOXO

I hope you liked it! Please forgive me for any mistakes.

Did you like the story or the song. Tell me how you feel by giving me a Like, Comment and Reblog. Thanks for Reading!

[wren-ravenheart]

You Tried So Loud To Love Me

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Hanahaki Disease Relationships:  Jaskier/Valdo Marx Rating: T Content Warnings: Minor blood Summary: Jaskier absolutely could not stand Valdo Marx for even a second. He was pretentious, too pretty for his own good, and had a terrible habit of writing sonnets and songs about the color of Jaskier's eyes and the swoop of his hair that he was absolutely certain were some sort of masterfully crafted insult to his person and reputation.

Tucked under a cut again for Length, though this one is over just over 2k words.

Cross-posted to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31171259

~

There were exactly three things in life that Jaskier was absolutely certain of. Things that he could continue to count on even when the rest of his life was attempting to fall to pieces around him.

That Belleteyn is the best holiday.

That Toussaint is Hot and Pretentious.

And that Valdo Marx is an asshole.

Even when his pockets were empty, his lute strings snapped, or he suddenly found himself caught up in a mild court scandal that he assuredly had no part in, he could always rely on those few things. It was easy to keep moving forward when one was propelled by Pettiness and Lust. Even if he could never give an exact answer as to why he hated Valdo so much when pressed. Really now, you wouldn’t ask why the grass was green or the sun warm, so why would anyone ask Jaskier why he couldn’t stand that fluffy little upstart?

It was assuredly not because the rival bard did indeed stand two inches taller than him and was criminally handsome. Nor was it because he had a perpetual perfect smile on his face that refused to budge even when Jaskier threw his best insults at him. And it most assuredly was not because the thrice-damned bastard had written not one but Two Sonnets entirely about Jaskier’s eyes and hair and he absolutely could read the undertones of mocking that clearly lay within. No, it was clearly none of those things that irked Jaskier to his very core.

What kept his petty hate-fueled animosity going was the absolutely nonsensical crush he had on the bastard. A crush he had worked hard to snuff out with wine, women, and a few other bards who weren’t nearly as annoying as Valdo. A crush that clearly had not gone away with time. A crush that was currently trying to hurtle it’s slimy little self all the way into actual, ugh… Love.

Which made it even more frustrating than usual that Valdo was suddenly not his normal bubbly self, greeting Jaskier warmly and loudly as he strode into their mutually favorite tavern in the middle of Oxenfurt. He looked tired, and quiet, and barely glanced at Jaskier before shifting his gaze back into the pint of ale in front of him. Not wine? By Melitele, what was wrong with him?

“Well, well, look who the alley cat dragged in. Ale will go straight to your gut, Valdo. I’ll steal back the title of prettiest bard before you know it.” He sniped as he leaned against the table’s edge and smiled with too many teeth.

Valdo cut his eyes up and then back down. “Good day, Jaskier.”

The smile dropped from Jaskier’s face and he narrowed his eyes. “Good day? That’s it? Valdo, are you ill? I did take the title back already, didn’t I? That must be it! I’ve never seen you like this. Ah, it must be such a burn to know you’ve finally been bested by a true bard and exposed for the talentless hack that you are.” As he spoke, he gestured grandly with his hands. Valdo only winced once at the mention of being ill and firmly kept his gaze on his mug.

“Everyone already knew you’re the attractive one between us, Jaskier. No need to rub it in.”

Jaskier ceased his obnoxious flailing and took an actual seat at the table with him. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him and leaned in, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “Okay now you’re actually worrying me. I was expecting snide sonnets on my unruly mop and ‘lustful gaze’. Jabs, put-downs...anything but this. You are actually sick, aren’t you?”

Valdo slammed back the rest of his ale and stood up abruptly. Jaskier’s mouth dropped open in shock as he was glared openly at by his once-rival turned unnatural crush. “Leave off, Jaskier. Go bother the brothel workers.” And with that final gritted out jab, he stomped out of the tavern.

Jaskier was still staring in shock at the empty spot before him when the barmaid strolled by.

“You’ll catch flies, you leave your mouth open like that, boy.”

He clicked his mouth shut and quickly made his own way out and back to his lodgings.

This just wouldn’t do. What was Valdo’s game? Was he finally making good on all of Jaskier’s assholish attempts to make them public nemeses? Maybe Valdo could read minds; realized the strange feelings the bard had begun to have towards him and decided he was thoroughly disgusted by him.

Jaskier let himself slink into the beginnings of a depression and decided he’d just have to try and shake that off and find out what was going on with his Fri… Rival.

He followed Valdo whenever he could, ambushing him after lectures and hunting him down in pubs. He startled him so fiercely one of these times that the other bard broke down into what sounded like a very painful coughing fit, enough that caused him to pull out a handkerchief to cough into until his lungs settled from the surprise. He found this odd, and then odder still when as he went to ask after his well-being, Valdo abruptly shoved the handkerchief away and growled at him. Growled! Like some angry dog! And left Jaskier once again staring after him as he stomped away, agog.

A month later, Jaskier’s persistence had turned into straight up concern. Valdo was less angry with his antics and instead seemed constantly tired. There were bags under his lovely brown eyes and his hair had turned greasy and less kempt. He consulted these odd symptoms with a friend studying medicine and she mentioned it sounded like some sort of wasting disease. Jaskier was only familiar with a few of them, but none of them sounded like a pleasant time.

So, while still firmly trying to convince his brain that Valdo was still an absolute Arse and absolutely did not deserve his time or affection, Jaskier made soup. Warm pot nestled in the crook of his arm, he marched up to Valdo’s residence and knocked firmly on the door. No one answered. He knocked again. Deep coughs followed by the sounds of mild choking came from within and Jaskier decided basic decorum was right out the window. He pried open the door and rushed inside, looking for the source of the distress.

And there was Valdo; laid out on a lounge chair looking even worse than usual and slowly lowering a cloth from his mouth. There were flecks of blood on his lips and it appeared as if he couldn’t draw a full breath. Jaskier plunked the soup pot right on the floor and went directly to Valdo’s side.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so ill?” He asked softly, dropping all the pretense of being a rampant jerk.

Valdo just looked at him sadly, too tired to muster up his recent attempts at dismissal. “I did not want you to know, Jaskier. You’re like the sun. So warm and happy. I could not bring myself to have you worry so I pushed you away.”

Jaskier’s eyes went a little wide and he reached out to take Valdo’s hand. It was so cold in his own, and he could make out the fine bones in his fingers. A wasting disease indeed. He rubbed his thumb over the other’s knuckles and shook his head slightly in dismay.

“I’ve been a right arse to you for years. Look at us. Idiots to the bitter end.” He murmured wistfully. “Is… is there anything I can do to help? To ease anything at all? I, uh… I made you soup. I thought it might be… nice?”

Now it was Valdo’s turn to look surprised. He squeezed the hand in his and looked over at the pot on the floor. “You made me soup? You’ve never made me anything.”

“Okay yes. Fine. That is true. I’m a complete and total jerk. My feet should not be gracing your illustrious doorstep, my knees not fit for your carpet. I’m sorry, okay? You’re talented. So talented. I’m at a loss without your poetry to bounce my own works off of.”

At this confession, Valdo cracked a little smile. “Maybe there is hope for you and I after all, dear Jaskier… You see, I ha-” A painful coughing fit cut him off abruptly, the force of it causing Valdo to nearly curl in on himself, clutching the cloth to his mouth as his body attempted to forcefully remove whatever was clearly killing him. Jaskier kept his hand firmly in Valdo’s as he tried to rub the other’s back in comfort. The touch seemed to help in some small way, and the hacking died off. Valdo slumped backwards panting, the hand with the cloth falling into his lap.

There, amidst the spattering of blood, lay small bright yellow flowers. Jaskier gasped loudly and shook his head.

“No, it’s a myth. It’s not real.”

Valdo attempted to clear his throat as he bunched the cloth with the flowers up and tried to hide it from view. “You of.. Of all people… .should know the… power of a story… where they come from...the truths hidden in the tales….We’re storytellers.. It’s.. poetic in it’s own way…”

“It’s a tragedy born of the old stories, is what it is. Wasting away from unrequited love? It’s madness. No one actually dies of a broken heart.”

“I’m not heartbroken, Jaskier. I’m simply in love with someone who is my sun and sky… and who absolutely cannot stand me. It will make the most glorious tragedy. I have already begun to write it.” Valdo smiled brightly as he caught his breath better and shifted to sit more comfortably. He squeezed his hand once more before letting it drop. “With any luck, I will finish it before I can no longer write.”

Jaskier stared into the middle distance over Valdo’s shoulder, taking it all in. It all seemed too outlandish to be real. Things that happened in tragedies and stories never actually happened in real life. Soulmates weren’t real. Kisses didn’t break curses. And people didn’t suffocate slowly on flowers for being rejected. But as he slowly shifted his gaze back to the pale, but still softly smiling, face of the absolute nuisance that was Valdo Marx, at lot of things clicked into place for him.

He had never hidden pithy put-downs into his sonnets. He had never crafted masterful insults through his songs. He had honestly and truly sung from the heart and he had called him his Sun. Valdo had been unashamedly, unabashedly, in love with him from the start. He was coughing up small yellow flowers… Buttercups...and had slipped back into waxing poetic over it all. Lord, the fool was fully gone on him. And he had been nothing but the most righteous arse over it all, so very full of himself and sure that the other was somehow mocking him and jealous of his talent.

Turns out it was Jaskier himself who was the pompous wastrul and talentless hack. He shuffled forward on his knees until he was flush against the lounge. Valdo looked over at him and lifted an eyebrow in question. A beautiful eyebrow set in a beautiful face that Jaskier was tired of pretending he wasn’t also long gone on as well. What was it that the storybooks always said saved the day, woke the princess, broke the curse? Ah… yes…

Jaskier set both hands on the cushion of the lounge and angled himself just right to gently lean forward and press his lips right against Valdo’s own. The man below him went very very still. His lips were soft, but the lack of any response twisted something uncomfortable in his gut and he slowly broke the kiss and moved away, eyes cast downwards.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Jaskier, what-?”

They spoke at once. Jaskier looked up and noticed color on Valdo’s cheeks, his mouth slightly open and his eyes nearly comically wide in shock. He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat.

“I’ve been a right arse to you, but I love you, Valdo Marx. And I do not wish to see you suffer a moment longer. It will kill me too.”

Valdo’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a deep exhale. Jaskier panicked for a brief second, wondering if he had actually killed him, before he sucked in a very long and full breath and opened his eyes again. They shined with unshed tears and Jaskier had a moment to admire the sight and the warm feeling at finally giving in before he was being tackled to the ground in a crushing hug and warm tiny kisses were being pressed to whatever skin the other could find.

A laugh erupted from them, and Valdo’s kisses shifted from surprised, affectionate pecks, to soft and tender kisses meant to explore the other’s skin. Jaskier shifted slightly under him and set a hand to his chin, drawing him back to his own lips to continue the kissing. Valdo hummed happily and nearly melted into what he hoped was now his new Beau. The university community was going to have a field day with this.

Jaskier rolled them over and slowly moved his head away. Valdo attempted to chase after one more kiss, making him chuckle. “As much as I am enjoying making out on the floor like we’re back in year one… are you sure? Are you alright? You were coughing up most of your lung a minute ago.”

Valdo smiled up at him and reached up to run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “Yes, my love, I am quite well now. You’ve restored me and I suffer no longer. Now the story I write shall have a happy ending. A proper fairy tale after all.”

“Well, if you insist. Though I would be grateful to continue this discussion somewhere that is not the floor.”

Valdo’s laugh was bright and filled him with warmth as they both got to their feet and he began to tug Jaskier in the direction of a more private space. “Anything for the prettiest bard in Oxenfurt.”

And wasn’t Jaskier pleasantly surprised when Valdo took it upon himself to demonstrate just how much better he now felt, repeatedly and with vigor. As it turned out, stories always had more truth to them than he had ever expected, for this cursed ailment was most assuredly soothed with a Kiss.

~End~