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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

Please give me the TA scene where Vos takes Obi-Wan to a bar to get drunk and forget about Anakin and pick up some hotties but oh no Anakin is there and Obi-Wan is a little tipsy and doesn’t want to be rude so he goes to say hi. Then for the rest of the night when he tries to go Anakin pulls him back into conversation because he doesn’t want Obi-Wan going home with someone else

yes!!!!!! TIS THE SEASON (halloween)

(2.3k)(the first TA obi-wan snippet!!)

The thing about Quinlan that Obi-Wan hates the most is that his friend is the only person in the entire world that can out-stubborn him. That’s usually not a problem. But sometimes it is. Sometimes it results in Quinlan forcing Obi-Wan into doing something he’d rather not do.

All those people that say peer pressure isn’t really real have never met Quinlan Vos.

Obi-Wan sort of wishes he’d never met Quinlan Vos when the man shows up at his door on Friday evening carrying three different bundles of clothing.

“Because I’m nice, you get to choose what you want to be for Halloween,” Quinlan announces, laying out the options on Obi-Wan’s coffee table.

“Drunk and alone in my apartment,” Obi-Wan says. “That’s an option, right?”

“Just for that, I’m taking Indiana Jones off the table,” Quinlan replies, not sounding sorry about it at all. “I’ll be that one. I think I could make the whip look hot as hell.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and peers at the costumes. “Sexy nurse or sexy….Red Riding Hood? I’m not wearing that. I doubt it would even fit me.”

“Bullshit, you have a very dainty waist, Obi. But hurry up and choose because we’re going to be late.”

“We’re going tonight?” Obi-Wan splutters. “It’s not even Halloween!”

“It’s the Halloweekend, Obi-Wan. It’s like you’ve forgotten all of our sophomore year.”

Obi-Wan’s tried to block most of it out, that’s true. The parts he remembers, at least. “I think we’re a bit too old for Halloweekend, Quin,” he protests, staring down at the costumes. “And I--”

“Have been obsessing over this so-called hottest professor in existence, yes, I know.” Quinlan holds up his hand when Obi-Wan starts to disagree. “No, you know I’m right. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve never heard you casually talk about someone so much and I’ve been there for all of your co-ed crushes. So what we’re going to do tonight is go and get your hot professor fucked out of your head, and the best way to do that is either sexy nurse or sexy Red Riding Hood. So.”

“I do not want this,” Obi-Wan reiterates slowly. “I very much am not aboard this plan.”

“Don’t make me invoke the BFFFOC, Obi,” Quinlan threatens.

The BFFFOC, or Best Friend Forever Failsafe Override Code, was thought up between them one night their first year of college. If ever one of them was going down a path that the other deemed unwise, they had the right to invoke the override and talk some sense into them.

“I don’t think me not wanting to dress in a slutty and offensive nurse outfit counts,” Obi-Wan protests loudly.

“It’s not about the costume, Obi, and you know it. It’s about this professor. You know you need to get over him. So get under someone else. I’d offer, but that would be in complete violating of--”

“BFFNBTBT,” Obi-Wan finishes with him, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I recall.”

That one, Best Friends Forever No Below The Belt Touching had been resurrected after a very unfortunate one night stand. The grounds for that code are some of the ones Obi-Wan is still trying to forget.

“Fine,” he snaps and hates himself for it. One day he’ll learn how to say no to Quinlan. “But I’m going with Red Riding Hood.”

“I thought you would!” his friend cheers. “The cape’s long enough to cover more of your upper thighs and you’re a bit of a prude.”

Obi-Wan snatches up the packaged costume from the table. “Fuck off,” he says, quite pleasantly in his opinion. “And I’m not paying you back for this.”

“You should shave,” Quinlan tells him as he turns towards his bedroom. “Really commit to the role!”

Perhaps tonight Obi-Wan will strangle Quinlan with his own length of Indiana Jones whip. The thought puts a smile on his face.

In the end, Obi-Wan does end up shaving. It’s not something he does often, but he’d looked at the costume. The dress doesn’t even come down to his fingertips. The hooded red cape somehow just a little bit longer.

And he thinks making Quinlan wait for thirty minutes while Obi-Wan gets ready is the very least of what he deserves.

Dragging out the process, however, doesn’t magically give Quinlan enough time to realize how stupid this is, because when Obi-Wan peers around the edge of his door, Quin’s on the couch in full Indiana Jones costume regalia, flicking through his phone.

“I look like a pervert’s idea about what Swedish barmaids looked like in the 18th century,” Obi-Wan complains, trying to flatten the hem of the flared out dress as he regretfully leaves the safety of his bedroom.

“That’s what the hood’s for,” Quinlan says sagely, looking up from his phone to take in Obi-Wan. “What, no makeup?”

“I need you to know that my biggest regret in my entire life will always be that I sat next to you on our first day of chem,” Obi-Wan tells him placidly, adjusting the cape around his bare shoulders. He hates to admit it, but the feeling of the inner fabric of the hood feels good against his skin. Soft.

“Oh, don’t say that, Obi, I’m sorry. You’re pretty without makeup.”

“I’m about to throw a punch,” he warns.

Quinlan grins and slings an arm around him. “Well then, looks like it’s time to go.”

----

They slide into two seats at the very crowded bar only thirty or so minutes later. Everyone around them is wearing some sort of costume, some so wild or revealing that Obi-Wan doesn’t even necessarily feel bad about the amount of skin he’s showing off.

Someone walks by in a golden speedo and Obi-Wan takes a gulp of his drink. At least this place does some heavy pours.

Quinlan leans into his ear. “See anyone?” he yells of the din of loud music and voices.

“I see a lot of people,” Obi-Wan reports back immediately.

“One more tongue-in-cheek response out of you, and I’ll make you do tequila shots, young man!”

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes, but then a girl in a french maid costume smiles at him flirtily from across the bar. His first thought is that he likes Professor Skywalker’s smile a lot better. Then he wonders about what Professor Skywalker’s doing tonight, if he likes Halloween. If he’s dressed up. If he’s alone.

“I would like two tequila shots,” he tells the bartender when she passes them.

“Obi-Wan, you shouldn’t have!” Quinlan tosses his arm around his shoulder and pulls him in for an awkward, but enthusiastic hug when the shots arrive.

“They’re both for me,” he responds. “You can choke.”

“You wound me so precisely,” Quinlan shakes his head, and flags down a bartender to order his own. Obi-Wan decides to ignore him, licking at the back of his hand quickly before sprinkling the salt onto the damp skin.

The first shot goes down easily, but he doesn’t even wait ten seconds before he’s brought his hand back to his mouth for another lick.

Halfway through, he looks up at the feeling of eyes staring at him. He follows his own instincts until his eyes latch onto bright, familiar blue ones across the way.

If he’d taken the shot, he would have choked in this moment when confronted with Anakin Skywalker, out of the lecture hall and looking so intensely at Obi-Wan that he feels strangely vulnerable. Examined.

He breaks eye contact with his professor when Quinlan’s arm tightens on his shoulder and he knocks their shot glasses together.

It’s second nature at this point to do shots with Quin, and he drinks his down automatically as his eyes can’t help but to dart back to Anakin--Professor Skywalker--at his table.

He’s sitting alone. Not even that dressed up. Obi-Wan has no feelings about this.

Quinlan, who is frighteningly observant at the worst times, clues into Professor Skywalker’s presence before he thinks he should, after only ten or so minutes have passed. “That guy is staring at you,” he whispers very loudly to Obi-Wan, taking a pointed sip of his newest drink. “Or maybe me, but he sorta looks angry whenever I touch you.”

As if to prove this, Quinlan moves in to place a sloppy kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan can’t shove him off quickly enough.

“Yep, definitely looking at you.” Quinlan concludes. “Looks blond, older than us, but like. Not ancient. What are you thinking? Wanna go over? I think you should, he looks like he’d give you a good time.”

Obi-Wan stares down at his drink. Quinlan doesn’t know what Professor Skywalker looks like. He doesn’t know that he’s actually cajoling Obi-Wan into the arms of the one person he’s set against him seeing. If Obi-Wan were a better friend, he’d tell him. But Obi-Wan isn’t. Obi-Wan’s feeling a little tipsy from the drinks, and his legs are all smooth, and he wants to talk to Professor Skywalker. He wants to see if maybe the man could want him if he’s wearing this. If he looks like this.

“I’m gonna go over and talk to him,” he decides in a rush, already lifting himself out of his seat. Quinlan crows in delight and reaches out to steady him when he stumbles a bit.

Water next, Obi-Wan thinks. He’s going to have water next.

It’s a short trip across the room to where Professor Skywalker is sitting. It just feels longer because of nerves. God, what is he doing? Why is he doing this?

But suddenly he’s at Anakin’s table. Suddenly he’s standing right in front of him, drink clutched in both hands, very aware of how much skin his outfit is showing off.

Anakin’s eyes dart down and the back up again before lingering at the exposed skin of his thighs. If it were anyone else, Obi-Wan would think he’s being checked out, but it’s his professor. And no matter how much Obi-Wan may want Anakin’s eyes to stick on him like a brand, he knows the older man would never want that same thing.

“Professor Skywalker, hello,” he finally says, fiddling with the straw in his drink. A few seconds later, he takes a sip, conscious of the way the man follows this motion. If it were anyone else--

But it’s not.

“Obi-Wan, I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” the professor scolds. “Especially outside of the classroom.”

“Sorry,” he says immediately. “Um. Anakin.”

Anakin’s arm drapes itself over the back of his booth as he sits more comfortably in his chair. “Please, sit.”

“I don’t want to intrude or anything, I just saw you and thought I would say--”

“Obi-Wan, sit,” this is a much clearer instruction. Obi-Wan drops into the other chair. Anakin looks him over again. “I have to admit, I didn’t have you pegged for being into this holiday,” he says roughly. “Or so committed to it.”

Obi-Wan thinks he’s probably blushing as red as his hood. “No, I um. You’re right. My friend, I--he wanted me to come out with him, and he only got me two costumes--I wouldn’t, but he--”

“Indiana Jones?” Anakin cuts in to ask sharply. “Sounds like a bit of a controlling boyfriend if he made you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

There’s an air of protectiveness in Anakin’s voice that makes Obi-Wan feel warm on the inside. Even though the professor couldn’t have been more wrong.

“No, no,” he corrects him anyway, even though a part of him is yelling that Anakin really doesn’t care that much about the details of his personal life. “We’re just friends. And I….”

He trails off, and Anakin arches one of his thick eyebrows in expectancy.

It may be that expression, the knowledge that Obi-Wan could give Anakin the answer he’s looking for, or the drinks in his system, but he finds himself continuing, admitting quite quietly, “I like it.”

Anakin straightens in his seat and takes a long pull of his own drink. “You like it,” he repeats. “Am I to assume you’re just a fan of the fairytale?”

Obi-Wan bites at his lip. He knows he shouldn’t say anything more, but....but they’re so far from the lecture hall here. It’s hard to remember why they shouldn’t talk about this. It’s hard not to let his mind wander to what he would say if the person he was talking to was not his professor, but a man he was interested in spending the night with, someone he was trying to seduce.

He shakes his head shyly.

“I like the hood,” he admits, because once he’s thought of it it’s incredibly difficult not to say it. He hardly even tries, if he’s being honest. “The cape is just long enough I can feel it on my thighs. And I like the skirt and--” he hesitates here, but it’s not called liquid courage for nothing. “The lingerie it came with.”

Anakin freezes with his drink halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he sets it back onto the table again and studies Obi-Wan with darkened eyes. His expression is unreadable and it makes Obi-Wan squirm in his seat.

“Fuck,” Anakin breathes out, the word almost lost to the roar of noise in the bar.

Obi-Wan fidgets in his seat. “Actually, sir,” he says suddenly. “I’m sorry, I should go, I only meant to say hello--”

“You should stay,” the professor interrupts, leaning forward and placing his hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm. The touch is electrifying. “For a drink.”

“Just a drink,” Obi-Wan agrees probably too quickly, a part of him responding to Anakin’s pleading expression perhaps more than it should. “My, what big eyes you have,” he jokes in regards to his professor’s begging look.

“The better to see you with,” Anakin replies immediately. For a second, his hand on Obi-Wan’s arm doesn’t move. Then his thumb strokes over the smooth skin there before he pulls back. “My dear.”

#asks #sorta cuts out right before the good stuff rip #but still!!!#fun to write and easy to write this time!!!#i did almost have obi-wan be a bunny but at the last second i was like lets keep it classic #and just a lil dirty #in this scene anakin is constantly thinking about how many days are left until the semester ends #he's like '2 months it's 2 months you can do this skywalker it's just 2 months'#'oh fuck did he just say he's wearing lingerie???? FUCK TWO MONTHS IT'S ONLY TWO MONTHS'#ta au #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi

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multifandomthoughts · 3 years

Text

Dark King of Desire

MINORS DNI

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Penetration, Dry humping

The rain beats down on the Oro Jackson, lightning and thunder making it almost impossible to sail. But to support your captain and his crew, you stayed outside, gripping the side of the ship. The ship rocks and sways but one thing that doesn’t budge is Rayleigh.

His posture is tight, his voice booming through the storm as he shouts commands, muscles glistening from a mixture of the rain and sweat. His arms bulge as he pulls in the sails, and you have to avert your eyes just so you can focus on the task at hand. You’re soaked, and the only thing you want to do is go inside and dry off. But you have your own work to do. You linger a bit longer to watch him work. He’s just so alluring, the moments turn to minutes and soon you’re all settled in to brave the worst of it. Rayleigh looks over the whole deck to make sure everyone is accounted for, and your eyes meet. You look away quickly, hoping that between the distance and the rain he can’t see your blush.

You swear that his eyes having been wandering just like your own, but to what you can’t figure out. It can’t possibly be you, he has much more important things to do than talk to you. But here he comes, long strides and firm shoulders as if he’s talking to the most powerful person in the world. You shudder to think of what could possibly be so important that he’s coming over here for.

You try and find something to do so you look busy, and end up fiddling with a knot in the rope ladder. “Can I… help you, sir?” You ask politely, not looking at him yet. He looms over you, a serious look on his face but mischief in his eyes. “Seems like I should be asking you that. You were looking at me like you needed my attention for something. Mind telling me what that was?”

Gulping loudly, you begin to try to think of an excuse. It was rude to stare, and you had no idea whether or not he was actually looking at you. “I wanted to go down and lay in my room for a bit…the swaying of the boat was making me feel uncomfortable. But once I made eye contact with you I figured that I had been found out and I had to stay. I felt I had to keep looking at you to make sure I was still required above deck.” You mumble out, trying to look past his exposed chest and look him in the eyes

He nods in agreement with this explanation. “Alright, guess I can excuse that then. But going forward, you can just go ahead and slip below decks even if you see me looking. I’ll make the connection as to why, I’m pretty perceptive. For example, your panties are damp… or was that just the storm?” He asks, grinning devilishly

Your face turns a deep red, understanding the entendre almost immediately. Shaking your head, you take a deep breath before responding with a sly “I don’t know, why don’t you follow me and you can find out?” Letting out a deep belly laugh, you were almost certain that you were screwed. Instead, his strong firm hand clasps yours as he walks you down to your private quarters.

As you’re led inside and get a chance to think things over, you come to the embarrassing realization his innuendo was actually quite correct. Without even realizing, you had indeed become aroused. Mentally setting that aside as a fun surprise for Rayleigh later down the line, you squeeze his hand as you enter your room. Now comes the moment of truth, he called your bluff before so you have to follow through for the sake of your dignity. “Guess I should get out of these wet clothes before I catch pneumonia or something…” you sigh playfully, seeing Rayleigh has already dropped his wet coat and taken a seat on your bed to watch.

Your pants were torn, not from wear and tear but from slashes and stabs. That being said, it made it a breeze to drop them. Sighing, you step out of the soaking puddle around your feet. You bend over, pulling a bandana out of you hair and whip it back, allowing your hair to be free. However, it releases all the water, causing you to shiver slightly. Next was your crop top that you had created yourself; it was too fancy and frilly upon your purchase. As you cross your arms to pull it up and off from the bottom, you glance over to see his reaction. He’s just tapping his finger and giving an easy going smile, as if this means nothing to him. Frowning, you turn around so he’ll have to stare at your back rather than the perky breasts you’re now exposing to the cool night air.

You toss your top over your shoulder at Rayleigh, not even looking at him now. If he wants the show to continue he has to ask, otherwise he better be content with wet fabric. You hear the sound of a weight being removed your bed, then the soft creak of footsteps across the floor, and the next thing you know Rayleigh’s arms are around your waist. “Might if I help with the grand finale?”

You try to act indignant. “Hmph! I don’t see why you should get to, you weren’t nearly appreciative enough of what I’ve done so far.” You haven’t given me one look over, not one compliment, nothing! I might as well let your wet clothes cause you shrinkage. You turn away from him and pout, not letting your true emotions be known.

Rayleigh rest his head atop yours in a pout. “Don’t be like that. I was just being patient; you don’t applaud in the middle of a great concert, you wait until it ends.” It’s a great line, and he knows you liked it. Damn smooth talker… “I guess that logic is acceptable. Fine, I’ll let you do the last bit, but you have to show off for me first. And I’m not turning around until you say something else nice.” You can feel the chuckle ripple through his chest to his jaw, then he leans down to kiss your neck. “If I didn’t have my spirits literally dampened by these clothes I’d be rock hard and dying to feel you… How does that sound?” A delighted shiver runs down your back, and suddenly you’re soaked all over again.

In an impressive feat of strength, he rips off his shirt with only his bare hands. Drops of rain still cling to his smooth chest, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m at least a little bit warmer now, but now my upper body is cold.” You don’t understand, what does he mean? Oh. Oh. He smirks, watching as you struggle to respond. You decide to tease him one more time. “Then go ahead and lie back on my bed. I’ll handle those pants, and then we’ll see if you even want to sit up again to get me naked?” Now it’s his turn to feel flustered, biting his lip to hold back a devilish grin. “I don’t know, most people can’t handle what I’ve got. But you, sweetheart? You seem like you’ll be a formidable challenge for me.” He coos, throwing hot and heavy words back at you.

“Then lie back and let me feel challenged, stud.” You order, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed and waiting for his obedience. When he complies your hands immediately dive to his fly and within seconds his pants are around his ankles… and you were so eager you yanked off his underwear too. Leaning over his waist, you’re now staring down the barrel of his sex pistol, and it’s every bit the monster you expect from Roger’s right hand man.

You rub yourself up against Rayleigh’s thigh, kissing him hard. “Does someone want attention? Or are you just going to sit there and make me do all the work?” Firm hands grab your thighs as you squeal, being hoisted into the air and directly onto Rayleigh’s lap. “Ooh, seems I came in for a rough landing…” you jeer, knowing full well what he is doing. “I guess you did my dear, and what are you going to do about it?” He retorts, a sparkle in his eye sending shivers down your spine.

You begin to grind your clothed pussy against his hard length, hoping to making him eat his words. Somehow, he’s going to wish he just shut up. His grip on your thighs immediately tightens, and you can see his brow furrow in concentration. His hips twitch, as if it’s taking a lot of will not to buck and roll against you. Guess he still wants to keep the air of composure. That won’t last much longer.

You can feel how hot and ready his saber is just waiting for you to sheath him. You have to bite your own lip to hide how much fun you’re having with this, and at the rate it’s going you might draw blood before any other fluid.

You run your hand across his cock, it’s warmth evident. Along with your hand on his shaft, you begin to wiggle, pressing into him. “Two can play that game.” He sneers, cupping your bare breasts in his hands. Kneading softly, he carefully runs his thumbs over the gentle buds, eliciting a squeak from you.

As if it couldn’t get any better, he pulls you as tight as he can against his throbbing dick. Every move you make, you can feel it pulse and throb. You stop for a minute, with Rayleigh pressing his face directly into your cleavage. His beard tickles as he gently shifts his face, looking to the left and to the right.

You don’t know how much longer you can wait. You’re not at your breaking point, however, your core aches to have his thick cock inside of you. Even just thinking about him makes your thighs clench, and you feel a damp spot in your panties.

Just as you think you’re about to give in and beg for more, he lets go of your chest and starts pulling at your waistband. Jackpot, he cracked first~ You put a hand over his and tut at him in playful judgment. “Tsk tsk tsk… someone’s run out of patience I see. But these are my favorite panties, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tear them apart like a wild man, okay?” On wobbly knees you climb off of Rayleigh and bend at the waist to slide the damp garment down your thighs. The fresh air reaching your wet and sensitive nethers is enough to overwhelm you for the moment, and you fall forward onto your hands and knees. Without meaning to, you’ve provided him with the perfect view of your bare sex.

“you know I’m going all out after that torturous foreplay, right?” You give a nod, and hope your body can endure it. That’d be a hell of a way to go out, your corpse being found by your crew mates the next morning with a shattered pelvis and signs of a heart attack from over excitement. But before he enters, you feel his hard cock playfully slide between your asscheeks and down to rub against your folds, causing you to let out a loud moan

Smirking to himself upon hearing your reaction, Rayleigh holds you steady by your waist and slowly presses his way in. He gives a guttural groan at the sensation, while your moan raises in pitch with every inch he buries in you. You push yourself against him, trying to attain more friction. Each inch he puts in adds another layer of pleasure, waves causing you to shudder. Once he is all the way in, he begins with a steady pace and hard thrusts.

Your body shakes with each thrust, your hanging breasts jiggling and swaying as his pelvis claps against your ass. Hands gripping the bedsheets, you try not to get lost in thinking about how deep he’s getting and how full you feel. Pleasure like this had been unimaginable before now, but you don’t want to picture what it would be like if it went away again.

Rayleigh is clearly enjoying himself as well, his grunts and moans soft, but audible enough for you to hear what he says. A curse or an oh god slip out of his mouth every so often, and that turns you on more, quickening your release. Meanwhile, Rayleigh is having an internal struggle of his own, your tight and soaking pussy treating him better than he can recall getting from any other. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can, but between the mad teasing before and this current euphoria it’s hard to hold the tidal wave back for too much longer.

The two of you continue to rock the bed while the ship rocks in the storm, passion deafening all noise but each other. The wave reaches its crest sooner than you would like but later than you thought with how worked up you were to start with, and Rayleigh hunches over you to keep you close and deep as he finishes. Your orgasmic scream is muffled as he cranes your head back for a deep kiss, and you remain joined at both ends as his pulsing member pumps a hearty load into you.

You sigh, collapsing from exhaustion. Always the gentleman, Rayleigh pulls you up into a comfortable position. “Are you alright?” He questions, a slightly glassy look in his eyes. You gently nod to him and run your hand over his chest with a happy sigh. He pulls the covers over you two, and wraps an arm around your shoulder. What an end to the night.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #rayleigh x reader #silvers rayleigh x reader #I will fix formatting later

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wishesunderthestars · 4 years

Text

Eunoia // Ch. 11

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 9.9k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, mentions of past sexual abuse, injuries and blood

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

A/N: The taglist for Eunoia is now closed.

“Zayn, I promise I’m right around the corner,” you said into the phone. “I went home for lunch and it took a little more time than I had expected.”

You heard the singer laugh on the other end of the line. “It’s alright, you are always on time. I can excuse this one. You aren’t even that late.” You checked your phone to confirm what he was saying. Six minutes late. Not that bad.

“I could be a little earlier. I parked the car at the usual parking spot so I’m really just around the corner.” You looked back at Jimin. He had stopped walking and was looking behind him. Some shop window had probably caught his attention. There were many charming independent shops in the area. “By the way Jimin is with me, he wanted to get out of the house. I didn’t think you would mind.”

“I don’t,” Zayn said. “I would like to see the lad again. You talk so much about him, about all of them really, it would be nice to actually see him instead of hearing about him.”

“I mean…” You paused. “C’mon, I don’t talk about them that much.”

Zayn huffed. “Keep telling yourself that. But I’ll let you have this one. Other than them and work, do you even have any other news?”

“I totally have other news.” Zayn waited. It was slightly worrying that you came up empty. “I’m drowning in work, okay? What other news would I have? Ehhh, have you met Astrid?”

In the short silence that followed, you could hear Zayn rolling his eyes. “Taylor’s hybrid is hardly news, she adopted her a month ago. You were literally together in Nashville. And did you forget I told you that last time I met up with Taylor Astrid was with her? Do you listen that well to what I’m saying?”

“Oh, right. I had wanted to come too, but you know work-” You were cut off by the sound of quick footsteps on the gravel behind you. Not many people wandered these streets. You turned back in time to see Jimin running in the opposite direction down the street. “Jimin!” You shouted. He didn’t stop. He should have heard you. With his hybrid hearing, he should have heard you. “I have to go. We’ll be more late.” You ended the call and took off.

You thanked whatever deities could hear you for deciding to wear sneakers instead of high heels to work. When you had important meetings with the higher ups of the film studios, you would dress nicer and high heels were etiquette at this point. Lucky for you, this day you didn’t have any meetings of that kind but rather a more active role as the director. High heels would only slow you down.

Chasing Jimin down the streets, you were glad nothing was slowing you down. You called his name again and again but he wouldn’t reply, just kept running. Your mind jumped to the worst things that could have happened. No one was chasing him, other than you. He wasn’t running away from someone, unless… Unless he was running away from you. But no. Jimin wouldn’t do that. He had no reason to run away from you. He had been a little strange before and something was certainly off but he wouldn’t run away.

You didn’t let yourself entertain the thought anymore, just put one foot in front of the other as fast as you could. Your heart was racing but it wasn’t solely because of running.

Around a corner, in a small alleyway nestled between a small art shop and a closed down building, Jimin had stopped. You stopped too. A large graffiti in blue spray paint read “The world isn’t fair, why should we be?”.

“Jimin?” you repeated quietly, it felt wrong shouting here.

Jimin was frozen in the middle of the alley, his eyes wide. His hands were fisted at his sides, they were shaking. Someone was standing against the wall.

Jimin went to take a step forward but a hiss stopped him. “Yoongi?”

“Step back,” the man said. Black cat-like ears were turned back, their fur blending into his pitch black hair. Narrowed dark eyes regarded Jimin. Jimin didn’t back down.

“Yoongi, it’s me,” Jimin said, albeit with a little less confidence. His eyes were open and vulnerable, staring at the other hybrid like he was a dream he was too afraid to wake up from, yet he wasn’t sure if he should call it a nightmare. “It’s Jimin, don’t you remember me?”

Yoongi didn’t reply. His shoulders were drawn high in tension, making more obvious the teared up fabric on his shoulder. It wasn’t the only tear on his clothes, his jeans were ripped in a way that didn’t look intentional and the hem of his shirt was torn and scuffed. One of his hands was tightly clutching a baseball cap. “Stay away from me.”

There was so much pain in Jimin’s eyes. All you wanted to do was gather him in your arms and hold him until it was gone, but something was holding you back.

“I looked for you. In the shelter and in the streets. I tried to find you for years.” Jimin’s lip trembled. “Where have you been?”

Yoongi looked away. “You don’t want to know.”

“Please,” Jimin whispered and you could hear the heartbreak in his voice. “I-I’m so sorry.”

That made Yoongi’s head shoot up. “You’re sorry? What-”

Just then, your phone started ringing. Both hybrids looked at you. Alarmed, Yoongi backed further into the alley. Perfect timing. You thought Zayn must be calling you, asking you what had happened and where you had gone, but it was Namjoon. Wary of the deadly glare Yoongi was sending your way, you declined the call.

“Who are you?” Yoongi hissed. The fur on his tail was standing on end and you could imagine him pouncing on you and tearing you apart with his teeth. You hadn’t been as nervous around a hybrid as you were at the moment. With Namjoon, it was more wariness than anything else. But this time a thread of fear was slithering up your arms. There was dried blood on Yoongi’s knuckles. There was no John this time and you didn’t have only yourself to worry about.

"She's my owner," Jimin replied for you. It wasn't the way you would have phrased it and Yoongi's eyes narrowed further until they were nothing more than twin slits. "Yoongi, please," he said again. You didn't know what he was pleading for.

"She's your owner?" Yoongi spat out the word like it was the worst of insults.

You had a very bad feeling about this.

Jimin clenched his jaw, standing up straighter. "She isn't like him, she's nothing like him. She saved me."

Yoongi didn't say anything. His back was one with the wall by now.

Jimin averted his gaze, shoulders slumping. "I-I missed you. I thought... I thought he had done something to you." He hugged his frame, making himself look smaller. "I thought he hurt you," the last words came out as a whimper.

Yoongi was quick to shake his head. "He didn't, he didn't hurt me. You shouldn't have worried about me. You shouldn't be thinking about me."

"But I was! I still am!"

Yoongi looked away, he didn't move from the wall. It was clear the two hybrids knew each other but there were too many things you couldn't make sense of. Yoongi must have been someone important to Jimin if he had chased him all the way here and by what they were saying he had something to do with Jimin's past owner. You had assumed Jimin had been alone with that vile man, you hadn't considered having someone there with him. Someone he seemed to care for. Maybe he had met him at one of those parties Jimin had mentioned his owner liked to take him to, or he was one of his friends' hybrid.

Your brain was in overdrive but your body was rooted on the spot. You didn't want to intrude but you were worried. Meanwhile, you only had limited time before you had to get back to work...

Stupid brain, you cursed. This was such an important moment for Jimin and here you were thinking about work.

“I have to go," Yoongi said, pulling himself away from the wall.

"No!" Jimin protested loudly, moving as if he was going to reach for the other hybrid. "I have been looking for you for years. Don't go. Please." He had been saying please a lot today.

Although Jimin didn't touch him, the other hybrid stopped, as if he was unable to leave Jimin behind when he was calling for him. His fists were clenched at his sides and you could see the dried up blood on his knuckles better. It looked like he had left the blood clog up for a day or more instead of cleaning it. It would be easy to get an infection, especially with the dirt and grime all over his clothes and skin.

"Is she treating you right?" Yoongi asked after a few moments of silence.

Jimin's eyes widened at the question, brimming with tears. You held your breath. "She's my family." He glanced at you. "She taught me how to cook. She takes care of us and she lets us dress any way we like. She lets us go out alone, too, I haven't yet but I could... We went to the lake and we stayed there all day and had a picnic and... and... I'm- I'm happy. I'm happy, Yoongi."

Yoongi lowered his head. "You deserve to be happy," he said quietly but even your human hearing picked it up. He took a step forward.

"Wait." You were surprised to hear your own voice. "You should disinfect your cuts, you could get sick if you leave them like this." Not your best, but enough to make his stop and look at you. Jimin gave you a hopeful look. "I have a medical kit in my car, I can clean them and if you want, then you can leave."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly. His hands were shaking. "You know how to give first aid?"

You nodded. "I have taken a few lessons, I know my way around it."

"She's really good," Jimin confirmed. Neither of you could forget the night you had met. Purplish bruises, stark white gauze and fearful eyes.

Yoongi's cat-like ears twitched. It didn't give you any specific answers as to the kind of hybrid he was. His tail was black as well, it stayed low as he contemplated your offer.

"I don't need your help, I'm fine, " Yoongi said. His eyes flickered to the other end of the alleyway. You could sense the internal battle going on inside him, vices gripping his body as he vibrated with something you were hesitant to call nervousness. His eyes locked with Jimin for a moment and his shoulder slumped slightly. "I don't need your help… but there is someone who does. Can you help him?"

You ignored the suspicious glare and gathered all your confidence. "I can do my best."

A small nod. "Go get your supplies."

He stayed glued to the spot so you turned to Jimin. You cupped his cheek gently and said, "I'm going to the car, I'll be back in a moment." The cat hybrid nodded and you speed-walked to the parking lot, thankfully it wasn't too far away. You would have run if you hadn't already been tired from chasing Jimin. You grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk before rushing back. It was a medium sized box, containing all the essentials, from gauze, band-aids and disinfectant to various pills, like Advil and Claritin. "I've got it," you said when you arrived back at the alleyway, finding the two of them in the same spots you had left them.

Yoongi glanced at you and the white medical kit, and then he was walking away. You took that as a sign to follow him. You slipped your hand in Jimin's, who gave you a small smile, and intertwined your fingers. This neighborhood housed one of your favorite coffee shops, the one you had planned to meet Zayn at, but you hadn’t wandered far from the quiet aesthetic streets with the colorful buildings and the tiny squares.

As you walked further away, the scenery changed. More graffiti appeared on the walls. Words dripping in red and black. Slurs and protests. You kept Jimin close to your side. After ten minutes of walking, Yoongi stopped in front of a two-story building. The door was hanging off from only one of its hinges, as if holding onto a thread. Shattered windows, peeling paint on the walls and pieces of white plastic sheets angling from seemingly random places didn’t leave any room for doubt whether the building was abandoned.

Yoongi slipped in through the half opened door and disappeared in the partial darkness inside. Two balconies were situated above the door on either side, parts of them chipped off. You were worried they would fall on your heads at any any moment. You tugged Jimin forward and twisted your body to get inside without touching the door or the wall. Jimin did the same and you were faced with an empty room. You couldn't see much, sunlight didn't get in the house properly and the plastic sheets prevented most of the rays from passing through.

The smell of rot drifted in the air and you could almost feel the dust swirling around. You resisted an instinctual cough. It was mostly in your mind, the feeling that dust was suffocating you, but your mind tricked your body quickly. You ignored it and walked further into the house, leaving footprints behind on the granite floor. The light got dimmer the further you went and your eyes had trouble adjusting. Jimin's eyesight was much better than yours and like cats he could see well in darkness.

One of the rooms, with the dirtied floral tapestry peeling off from the walls, opened up to a grand staircase. Once upon a time it must have been beautiful, polished wood shining under the light of the chandeliers. You could imagine balls taking place here, women wearing beautiful gowns and men in tuxes made by the biggest names in fashion, mingling and sharing drinks. Now, the room was a ghost of its former glory, a place that belonged in a horror film instead of a period drama.

Jimin's hand slipped from yours and you reached blindly for him. The room wasn't in total darkness but it was dark enough to make you nervous.

In all of your observation of the staircase you hadn't noticed that there was something in the space under the stairs. A boy was curled up on a ratty blanket so thin, it must have been doing nothing to shield him from the cold granite underneath. Yoongi was kneeling next to him but you couldn't make out his features or if he was talking or not. You were too far to hear anything and the building was by no means quiet (you had a suspicion that a family of mice or cockroaches had made its home somewhere inside and you prayed you were wrong). You approached cautiously.

"-alone. Please, don't go again. I'm fine," you could hear the boy saying as you got closer. His voice was croaky, from disuse or pain you weren't sure. He must have been the one Yoongi wanted you to help. You couldn't see him clearly but you could make out the ears peeking out from his hair. Another hybrid.

Yoongi was holding his hand. "You aren't fine, I had to do something. I brought help."

The boy hadn't noticed you so far, he must have been pretty bad if he didn't hear you coming in and didn’t notice your scent. When his eyes landed on you he only curled up tighter with a whimper.

"We're here to help you, not hurt you," you said, coming a little closer when Yoongi didn't hiss at you. You showed him the medical kit you were holding. "I only want to help if you let me."

He didn't uncurl from the ball he had created with his body but Yoongi looked at you expectantly. You knelt on the floor next to the blanket, ridiculously aware of the dust and grime your expensive pants must be gathering. Your mind was jumping from one place to the next so it wasn't surprising that for some reason it decided it was worth it to worry about dirtying your pants. With Yoongi's help, you coaxed him out of the ball so you could start treating him. After turning on the flashlight on your phone, you handed it to Jimin, instructing him to keep it steady while you worked.

The boy clenched his eyes shut at the light, you wondered how long he had stayed here in semi-darkness.

You opened the first aid kit and took stock of the supplies inside, everything was there. You didn't know the extent of his injuries but his labored breathing and sharp flinches whenever he moved told you enough. In the artificial light, you took a better look at the boy laying on the floor. His hair was a reddish shade of orange. A fluffy tail was half-hidden behind his body. A fox hybrid. You had never seen once before.

The awe and curiosity didn’t last long. Your eyes were drawn on his swollen eye, a shocking purple painting his skin. It wasn't the only place tainted with color. His cheek had a purplish bruise as well and his lips were cut in two places. A trail of blood had dried underneath his nose.

"I'll start with your face, okay?" you asked, but the hybrid didn't reply, he just tightened his hold on the blanket. Taking off his clothes, to tend to the rest of the injuries you were sure were hiding underneath, would only make him more uncomfortable. You pulled out a water bottle from your bag, you were always carrying one with you, and poured a small amount on a white cloth. Before the cloth could touch his face, you spoke up, "My name is Y/N. Do you want to tell me your name?"

Wide fearful eyes turned to Yoongi, who gestured vaguely with his hand. "H-Hoseok," the boy whispered.

"Hoseok," you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. "That's a nice name. I like the way it sounds." Gently, you dabbed the cloth on his bottom lip, the boy flinched at the contact. He didn't pull away so you continued. "I'm not a professional, I'm not a doctor or a nurse or anything. My profession is actually very different from that, though I did have to play nurse a few times. I would like to think I'm quite good at this by now. I've taken a few lessons, I was fascinated with first aid when I was younger. I don't even know why."

You continued speaking while tending to the wounds on his face. Earlier in your life you had discovered that talking, or at least listening to someone speak, would take the other's mind off the pain a little. By the time you were finished with his face, you had told him the whole story of how you had come to learn first aid and how you had panicked and forgotten everything you had learnt the first time someone had fainted in front of you, only remembering what to do when a friend of yours had pinched you. Hoseok listened to everything you said silently, his lips curling up a tiny bit at the last story. Maybe you exaggerated a bit and you made way too many hand gestures for someone supposed to be tending to his wounds but it seemed to be working.

Yoongi helped him pull off his shirt and you heard a gasp from behind you as his torso was revealed. His body was toned but a few of his ribs were pushing out in ways they probably shouldn't. It wasn't too bad but it was clear he hadn't been eating well for some time. But that wasn't the worst and it wasn't what you noticed first. Large bruises littered his body and what looked like the imprint of a hand was left on his bicep.

Switching topics, you told him about your first time coming to Los Angeles. Hoseok let out a breath as you started speaking again. As you checked his ribs, you recalled your very first days in the city, when you had been as excited as afraid to go to University in a brand new city where you had no friends. He hissed at the contact, but didn't object otherwise. You observed the way he breathed, taking note of the heavy bruising over his ribcage. You applied salve over the area and all the other bruises on his torso and the few on his back, the front had taken the blunt of whatever had happened. You had a suspicion but didn't speak of it yet.

His right arm was broken, he was holding it immobile close to his body. One touch and you were certain of it. Disinfecting a rather large cut on his arm, you wrapped it in gauze after coating the injury in a thin layer of cream. The cream smelled awful and was a sickly green color but you could testify to how effective it was. You did your best to make a cast for the arm, you hadn't done it before outside of a class and it was more of a struggle than you had expected. When his arm was secured in the cast, you trailed off your recounting of a stupid fight you had with one of your cousins that resulted in both of you getting lost. You were done. Hoseok looked at you with wide eyes, as if asking you why you stopped.

"This is it, we're all done," you said, rubbing your hands together with hand sanitizer like you had before treating him. "When did he... get injured?"

"Why do you need to know?" Yoongi asked, at the same time as Hoseok croaked out, "Yesterday."

"What pill I give him to relieve the pain depends on when he got hurt. Some kinds could slow down the healing process if they are taken less than 48 hours after the injury." Digging into the small suitcase-like kit, you handed him two paracetamol tablets along with the water bottle. There was still had some water inside. "It will numb the pain, it takes about an hour to work," you explained.

Hoseok tentatively took the pills and bottle from you. He drunk the water in one gulp and you were reminded again that he might have gone without water for some time. "Thank you," he said, his eyes on the blanket.

You sighed, getting up from the floor and dusting off your pants. Just like you had expected, two white patches were left on your knees. "I'm afraid, other than a broken arm, you might have fractured one of your ribs. I noticed the area hurts more than the rest and you have some trouble breathing." Jimin who hadn't moved much while you were working, latched himself on your back. The situation was too familiar for him. The injuries, the smell of the disinfectant and the fear in Hoseok's eyes. And just like that night your heart was clenching, begging you to do more. It worked once, why wouldn't it again? The traitorous organ whispered.

Yoongi had sat on the blanket next to Hoseok, who had crawled closer to him, his side touching leg. The silence is broken as your phone starts ringing again. You had set it on silent so whoever is calling you must have made many attempts. You are expecting to see Namjoon's name flash on the screen with the wolf and moon emojis, but instead it is the name of one of the producers.

While tending to Hoseok, you had almost forgotten you had to be at work after the supposedly short trip to the coffee shop. You had to take this. At the other side of the staircase, close to a door that led to what must have been a dining room once, you answered the call.

Everyone had been looking for you, worried about your absence. You had never been late to work before, often you would show up before you were scheduled to, in order to get some additional work done. Three missed call, that's how many times just the producer had called you. His worry soon turned into irritation, asking you why you didn't inform them and why you weren't answering your phone. They had called everyone close to you to find out what had happened and no one had any answers.

You were more than an hour late. An hour you were supposed to spend guiding the actors and getting the first feeling of a few scenes. Those plans went down the drain.

You peeked over the railing of the staircase. Jimin was standing closer to the space Hoseok was laying under the stairs. They were talking but they were being quiet and you couldn't hear what they were saying over the loud voice of the producer coming from the phone and your own too loud thoughts. You tried to explain yourself, staying as close to the truth as possible, which was admittedly difficult. In the end, you used the personal emergency card. Although the producer didn't sound convinced, he let you off, scolding you half-heartedly about calling next time instead of leaving them in the dark looking for you and thinking about the worst.

Ending the call, you looked through all the ones you missed and the texts they had sent you. You replied to a few of the texts, giving the same answer as you had to the producer. There were several from Zayn, asking where you were and if you were okay. In the final one he asked you to call him as soon as you could. Guilt gnawed at your insides. You had left him alone waiting for you for forty minutes, until he was sure there was no chance of you coming. You were an awful friend. Namjoon had also sent you a few messages. Someone had called the land-line at your house. No word from you. You and Jimin had both disappeared. Cradling your heavy heart, you sent a message to Namjoon assuring him that Jimin was with you and you were both alright. You hoped that would be enough for now.

Pocketing your phone you walked around the stairs. Closer to them you could pick up parts of their conversation. Yoongi and Jimin were arguing, silent tears streaming down Jimin's face. You held yourself back from running to him and pulling him away from whatever was hurting him. This was Jimin's battle, you would let him fight it. He rarely spoke of the demons of his past but they were many and frightening with long claws and sharp teeth.

Jimin suddenly reached for your hands. "Tell them, tell them to come home with us. Please, they can't stay here. We have a lot of space in the house, they can take one of the rooms until he heals."

Your mouth was faster than your brain. That was a problem you didn't have to worry about before but something was changing. "They can come home with us if they want." Yoongi hissed, ready to protest. "A fractured rib isn't a trivial matter, he would need medical supervision but I can guess you don't want to go to a hospital. I can tend to it until he gets better, he will need medication to relieve the pain and plenty of bed rest. This place will only slow his healing."

"Yoongi, please. Let me..." He stopped with a sniffle. "Just come with us. I need you to come with us." That seemed to break any of the resolve the older hybrid had. Hoseok didn't react at all, remaining curled in on himself.

"Okay, we'll come," Yoongi said. "We'll come, but we'll leave as soon as he's better.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

It should be way more surprising when you show up at the Castle with Jimin and two unfamiliar hybrids in tow. The initial surprise lasted only a few minutes before everyone just sort of accepts this. Namjoon was the most wary but you couldn't blame him, his instincts were screaming to protect his pack and while Hoseok in his condition was by no means a threat, Yoongi didn't exactly look friendly. Jungkook had hopped away soon after with Jin. The bunny hybrid wasn’t good with strangers. You suspected that he had inherited some bunny instincts that made him jumpy and easily afraid around predators.

You led the two new hybrids to the guest room with the two queen beds on the second floor, and like you had with Jin, you gave them the key. Yoongi looked at you suspiciously but didn't say anything. Hoseok fell asleep as soon as his body hit the soft mattress. Their reaction to the house had been similar to most people’s. Wide eyes and disbelief. It didn’t serve to calm Yoongi down, instead he looked like you had been leading him straight into some sort of trap.

Jimin stuck close to you as you called John from your office. He was one of the first people your team had called, it just happened that the day they needed him was the day he hadn't accompanied you. He was fuming when he answered, worried out of his mind and, unlike the producer, he didn't let you off easily. You had been rash, forgot about any rational thoughts, put yourself and Jimin in danger, didn't call anyone for backup in case something happened. Those hybrids could have been serial killers for all you knew. The list went on and on.

"I'm coming over as soon as I can," he said. "I have to see those hybrids for myself. You can't just go around picking up hybrids like they are new projects. What mess have you gotten yourself in this time?"

"Hopefully, not too big of one," you muttered. "You don't have to come, really. I've got everything under control and it's your week off. I took the rest of the day off so I'll be home. I swear I'll call you if anything happens."

"There is no way I'm leaving you in the house with two hybrids you just picked up from the street and decided to nurse back to health-"

"One of them is fine," you interrupted him.

Yoongi didn't have any visible injuries other than his bloody knuckles and a slit lip he wouldn't let you touch. Even if he had more, there was no way he would let you tend to them.

"And that makes it better how?" John asked. "I mean, good for him he isn't injured, but that doesn't guarantee your safety. If he is fine, he could try something. Don't forget that hybrid's have human DNA too, there are bad apples regardless of how much you want to keep looking at the good ones. Just because it worked once, doesn't mean it will work again. "

Jimin was sitting on the edge of your desk, his head tilted to the side. He could hear everything with his hearing. You ruffled his blond hair and he leaned into your touch. "It isn't the same," you said.

"Isn't it? It sounds awfully a lot like something I've heard before." John sighed. "It isn't that I don't trust your judgment, but lately you act then ask questions lately. I trust you but I don't trust everyone you take into your house. They could take all of your jewelry before they disappear or it could be much much worse."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely defenseless." The first years John was assigned to you, he had decided to teach you the basics of self-defense. He couldn't always be with you and you hadn't been able to throw a punch to save your life. The lessons had paid off and, although you were no black belt student, you could defend yourself to an extent if you had to. "I'm serious, you don't have to come over. What about Alice? She wouldn't want her father running off when he promised her he would spend the week with her."

John huffed. "You are evil, using my daughter against me."

"I will add it to my resume," you said. "I'm alright and I'm going to be alright. You know I'm not alone, if anything happens we can count on each other, and you can come in a few days when your break is over and check in."

"I'll accept this only because I have heard Namjoon growl when he thinks someone in his pack is threatened," you felt warmth seep in your cheeks when John mentioned so casually that you were part of their pack, "and Jungkook has gained enough muscle in the last few months to launch a nice punch if he needs to protect himself or someone." It was difficult to imagine your sweet bunny hybrid punching anyone, especially given the way you had found him, but it was true that the time he spent in the gym paid off.

John didn't come over. He stayed with his daughter because he had promised they would go to the zoo together as soon as she woke up from her afternoon nap. You went through a few papers after the phone call, reassuring yourself multiple times that the whole TV show wouldn’t crumble because you had taken one day off work (you really needed to work on your sense of self-importance). Jimin had turned his body on the desk so he could see what you were doing without taking up too much space.

They would be fine without you. The conclusion wasn't hard to reach but you had tortured yourself a lot over it. Missing days of work was almost unheard for you. You scheduled your life around your work schedule, the breaks were on specific dates and you didn't need to take extra ones. To miss work, you had to be so sick you couldn't get out of bed without fainting.

You put the papers in their respective folders and placed them back on the bookshelves. "Now that we are alone, do you think you can tell me what happened?" you asked, feeling Jimin's eyes on your back.

"I-" He averted his gaze, his fingers wrapping and unwrapping on the hem of his shirt, wrinkles forming on the material and smoothing out again. "I'm sorry."

You walked around the desk, coming closer to him. "That's not what I wanted to hear. A warning before taking off would have been nice, though. My mind went to the worst possibility and you wouldn't answer my calls or wait for me."

Jimin was about to apologize but stopped himself. "I couldn't lose him. I couldn't stop running, I couldn't lose him again. I couldn't really hear you... It was like a fog was over everything other than the path I was following. I needed to make sure it was Yoongi, that he was alright."

You touched Jimin's thighs, situating him better on the desk so you were standing between his legs. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He hesitated before reaching for your hand and holding it in his. He brought it close to his face and started nuzzling on your wrist. He had told you your scent calmed him and he liked it when your scents mingled. Placing a kiss on the center of your wrist, he pulled back a little, keeping your hand in his.

"He was there, in my old house," he said. "I was around sixteen when he was brought in. My owner didn't say why he was there but Yoongi is a panther hybrid, he could brag about him to his friend and he was also a guard. He was supposed to be protecting the house, to be protecting me. I was all alone there and then I wasn't. He was suddenly there and I wanted a friend so bad. Yoongi was gentle and he was kind, he would stay with me when I was feeling lonely. He cooked for me when he could, the food was delicious. I remember loving it but I'm not sure it was because of the food itself or because he was the one who had cooked it. Maybe both." He lowered his head, his cat ears pinned to his head. "We did something. We did something very bad. He took Yoongi away and I was returned to the adoption center. I never learnt what he did to him. I thought..." His voice cracked.

You shushed him, stepping even closer and taking his into your arms. He wrapped his arms around your neck pulling you against his chest. "He's alright. You're safe here. This is a safe place."

"I know," he mumbled into your shoulder. "I know."

You cupped his neck with one hand, rubbing small circles with your thumb on his neck. "Do you trust him? Do you trust him to stay here until Hoseok recovers?"

He nodded. "I trust him, I would trust him with my life."

You held him in silence for some time, just feeling him breath against your chest. "What did you do with Yoongi?" you asked, curious. Jimin stiffened, you felt like he was holding his breath. "You don't have to tell me."

His body relaxed a little, leaning on you. "I can't, we shouldn't have done it. We betrayed him. I couldn't hold myself back, I was weak. I'm stronger now, I promise. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if your hated me."

What he said made you jolt back. Jimin whined lowly but you were quick to cup his soft cheek. "I could never hate you. Nothing in this world could make me hate you," you said, gazing into his watery eyes. Even with tears threatening to fall, he looked beautiful. "My Jiminie. Nothing you say will ever change my feelings about you. Your past doesn't define you. Whatever you did to that man, he deserved it."

"But you don't."

You didn't understand what he meant. "What?" You looked into his eyes but you only found sadness there. The small smile on his lips hurt more than his tears would.

He sniffled. "Don't leave me. Don't throw me away," he pleaded.

You squeezed his thigh, leaning your forehead against his. "Never, I'll never leave you. I will always watch over you, I swear."

“I’m not worth it. I’m not worthy of the care you give me,” he whimpered.

“You are. You are worth everything and so much more.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Namjoon was sitting on the largest couch in the living room, a documentary about ocean life playing on TV. His ears twitched a little when he heard you climbing up the stairs. You stayed standing for a moment, watching the screen as a blue whale emerged from the water shooting up a water water spray like a fountain. Their tails flapped against the water. Such magnificent creatures. They were endangered species, the man speaking explained, hunted and killed for their meat and blubber. On top of that, pollution, vessel strikes, entanglement in traps and nets and more.

If there was one thing humans knew how to do is destroy beautiful things.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? Or some variation of it?” You turned away from the screen and settled on the couch, leaving some distance between you. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you before springing this on you.”

“I can handle it, I think,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think Jimin left you much of a choice if he ran after him. If his mind is set on something, he won’t stop until he gets it.”

“Do you know anything about him? Yoongi? Jimin told me some things but he doesn’t want to say everything.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I didn’t even know he existed until now. Jimin never mentioned it. He doesn’t like talking about his past. I can understand, but then things like this happen. I just wish he shared more with us, so we could help him.”

“I know,” you agreed. “I feel the same. But it’s only temporary. In about a week Hoseok will be well enough to go. Not completely healed, that could take up to a month or more, but he will be better.”

He cracked a small smile. “You can’t really stand there doing nothing, can you?”

You couldn’t, could you? You had always been one to try to help in any way you could. It didn’t matter what the problem was, you wanted to help. An issue at work, a dilemma one of your friends was facing, human rights, poverty, hunger. Homeless injured hybrids. But you usually were careful, you would think the problem over, review all the points and then try to find a solution.

Since when did you throw caution to the wind?

You liked to pride yourself on your mind. You could see the things other people couldn’t and laid new paths when others hadn’t bothered to stray a foot from the blocked road. It felt like you were slipping.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you said, hiding your face in your hands. “Jimin was so sad and Hoseok’s ribs are fractured-”

Namjoon cut you off by tugging at your arm. He pulled you closer to him. “I trust you, you know I trust you.”

“That doesn’t always make things better,” you said, laying your head on his shoulder. “What if I’m wrong? What if you trusted me and I’m wrong? And, I don’t know, something really bad happens.”

“Then we’ll face the consequences together.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll tell you if I think you’re wrong and we will work it out. Now, I’m not sure. We don’t know what happened or why one of them has fractured ribs and a broken arm. I saw the blood on Yoongi’s hands. All we know is that he was part of Jimin’s past.”

The screen was darker as lion fish were swimming around the bottom of the sea, illuminated by blue light. They weren’t afraid of the diver, aware of the poison in their back spines, the narrator said.

You shuffled around a little, getting comfortable on Namjoon’s side. His arm snaked around your waist, settling on your hip. The words unsaid between the two of you were choking you.

“Jungkook came to me earlier,” he said. “He was crying. He told me he had done something horrible, something he couldn’t forgive himself for. It took me hours to calm him down. He said I needed to find Jimin and make sure he was okay. After what he had done, Jungkook said he wouldn’t want to see him again.”

You frowned. “Jungkook said that?” That sounded nothing like the sweet boy you knew. Sure, Jungkook liked joking around, teasing all of you and he could be very stubborn. But he looked at Jimin like he was his muse and whatever he created would be bland and pointless without him. “Jimin caught me last minute before I left the house. He didn’t look well, he was panicked. It was like he was trying to escape something. He didn’t tell me what happened and I didn’t want to push him and make things worse. Where is Jungkook?"

“At the atelier, Jin is there with him. I don't know what we'd do without him," Namjoon said. You agreed. Jin had slotted into your lives like he was always meant to be there. "What about Jimin? Wasn't he with you?"

"He came with me to my office, before I came upstairs he said he was tired and he left to go to your room."

The sun was setting outside, the sky turning navy as the colors of the day receded. You felt like only a few minutes ago you had been about to walk out the door to meet up with Zayn.

Namjoon's hand was rubbing your arm up and down, the touch calming something deep inside you. You had so many questions, so many doubts about what you were doing. There were so many ways this could go wrong. Jimin was in a fragile state. If what Jungkook had told Namjoon was true to some extent, Jimin would be in a really bad place. On top of that, a person from his past showing up could ruin all his progress. Most of all, you were afraid your Jimin would get hurt.

"You're thinking too loud again."

You groaned, burying your head in his shoulder. "I'm not." You turned to the TV trying to erase the look on your face. The deepest parts of the sea were home to so many creatures. Small and large, all of them had adapted to live in darkness. Adapting. Such an interesting skill.

You squirmed in Namjoon's arms, he loosened his hold on you so you could sit up straighter. You hadn't talked about the night when you had been beating yourself up for saying the wrong thing, Jin's retreating form, head lowered, haunting you. Namjoon had a way to make your brain go quiet, something you hadn't learnt how to do regardless of how much you tried. You had been floating and for once you had fallen asleep without tossing and turning.

But you hadn't talked and you couldn't decide if it was better that way or if it would only serve to torment you further. The doubts came, like they always did, and you weren't ready to deflect them.

Namjoon's clever eyes were on you as you traced invisible swirls from his shoulder, his neck and up his face. Your knuckles ran over his cheek in a feather-light touch. His hand covered yours, bringing it to his mouth and placing a kiss in the center of your palm. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest.

"Can I?" he asked, leaning closer. You could do nothing but nod. His lips touched yours gently at first, before both of you got lost in the feeling. This kind of kissing was reserved for books and movies, it wasn't something that was supposed to happen in real life and yet... How could you settle for anything less after this?

This, this was something you could write about. Something to fill up all those blank pages taunting you. Paragraphs upon paragraphs attempting to describe that feeling spreading through your whole body. You could spend your whole life trying to put this moment into words and it would be worth it.

You pulled back. A flush had crept up on Namjoon's cheeks and his hair was mussed. You probably didn't look any better. Hopefully, your makeup could cover any redness on your skin.

Your hand was still in his, held against his cheek.

"What are we doing?" you asked him, breathy from the kiss that had overtaken your whole being. "What does this mean?"

"What do you want this to be?"

Your lips twitched up. "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."

Namjoon combed a hand through your hair, twisting a strand loosely around his fingers before letting go. "It can mean whatever we want it to mean. Whatever we need it to be."

On a moment, his back straightened and he looked at the stairs. You followed his gaze but saw nothing. A few seconds later, your human ears were able to pick up steps climbing up the staircase. You got up from the couch and straightened the wrinkles on your clothes. An itch to change into clean clothes nagged at you, preferably after taking a nice long shower, but there were still things needed to be done.

Black hair was the first thing you saw before the rest of Jin came into view, but you had already guessed who it was by the careful steps he was taking. Living with them, you could distinguish between the ways they climbed up the stairs. Jungkook ran up, eager to reach his destination. Jimin occasionally skipped some steps, light on his feet like he was floating his way up. Namjoon's step were light as well and he was the most likely to miss, stalking up the stairs silently as if on a hunt. Jin was careful and measured in everything he did and this was no different.

The sugar glider hybrid glanced around, his eyes landing on the two of you in the living room. He shifted his weight on his feet.

"Hey," you said softly, coming closer. "Is Jungkook still in the atelier ?"

Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, even though he tended to stick to the other hybrids like glue. Whatever had happened earlier was enough to make him change his habits.

"He's in the middle of a painting," Jin said, biting his bottom lip. It was obvious he was worried as well, but trying to make excuses for the youngest. "I'm going to cook dinner."

The sun had set by now but you couldn't comprehend how late it had gotten. Time to make dinner. On an average work day you would be wrapping up now and checking off the tasks you had completed, making sure everything was going according to plan before leaving.

"I'll help you then," you said, nudging his hands with yours. The two of you go to the kitchen and Jin starts pulling out bowls from the cupboards. "What are we making?"

Jin paused. "Now that you're here, we can make whatever you want. But I can cook. You should rest, you must be tired."

"No more tired than usual." It was true in a weird way. Your body was actually feeling less like it would need to sleep for a week to restore all its functions and more like something heavy you didn't recognize had wrapped itself around your shoulders. "You? How are you feeling?"

Jin fiddled with one of the bowls. "I'm alright."

On a couple shelves, away from where most of the action took place, your cookbooks were lined in neat rows. You picked up one of your favorites, the well-known chef smiling at you from the cover.

"It's okay if you aren't," you said. "It was very unexpected. It'd be understandable if you felt uncomfortable or upset. I didn't get a chance to warn you before bringing practically two strangers into your home."

The bowl was apparently very fascinating for Jin because he was looking nowhere else as he forced a smile. "I couldn't be upset. I was a stranger coming here, too."

You left the cookbook on the counter. "The circumstances were different. I had called the others before adopting you and we had all agreed that I would bring you home with me. I adopted you, you came to stay. They will be leaving soon."

"It's just... I'm not used to strangers," he admitted.

You moved around the kitchen island, standing next to him. You gave him space in case he wanted to move away but he only leaned closer to you. "This is your home and all I want for you is to feel safe here. I'm sorry I didn't call you to ask before bringing them here. I don't want you to act like you don't mind if you actually do. You have a right to be upset."

You brought your foreheads together, rubbing gently. A rare purr escaped Jin and although his cheeks reddened he didn't pull away at the sound like he used to do.

The kitchen filled with noise as you started preparing the dishes. You had decided on chicken with honey and garlic as the main dish and you would make a few side-dishes because you didn't know what the new hybrids liked to eat. Halfway through, when you had added the honey, the diced garlic and the soy sauce in the pan, the itch under your skin got too long and you left to go shower.

Washing away the day felt almost cathartic. The worst parts of it falling down the drain. It was your favorite part of coming home, second only to seeing your hybrids and spending time with them. Freshly washed and dressed into sweatpants and a comfortable top, you got out of your room. Dinner wasn't ready yet but Jin didn't need any more help. Any other day you would get your laptop and open one of the files in your to-do-list but this time you climbed down the stairs to the second level.

Knocking on the door, you took a step back and waited.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice you recognized as Yoongi's called from inside.

"It's Y/N." You didn't elaborate further, curious to see what he would do. Contrary to what you had expected, you heard the key being turned. The door opened, Yoongi peeking at you through the crack.

"What do you want?"

"Dinner is almost ready," you said. "I came to check in on you. Has Hoseok woken up? I wanted to see how well the medication worked."

You could sense Yoongi contemplating shutting the door in your face before a small voice from inside said, "I'm awake."

Yoongi muttered under his breath but opened the door further letting you in. The room was mostly untouched, only the bed Hoseok had been sleeping in gave an indication that someone had been inside. Yoongi had taken a shower but changed back into his own clothes, which he had pulled out from the small duffel bag. The green duffel bag, as worn as their clothes, was the only thing they had carried with them. It was small and certainly not enough for two people to live out of.

Hoseok was laying on the bed, making himself as small as he could without aggravating his injuries. In the hand that wasn't in the cast, he was clinging to the blanket he had with him in the abandoned building. It desperately needed to be washed but you weren't sure it could be salvaged. The light in the room was in the lower setting not to aggravate his eyes. His fluffy tail was curled around his waist, dirt staining it and parts sticking together with grime.

He stuttered answering your questions but overall he looked better. The granite floor with only a thin blanket to lay on wasn't a place someone could actually rest on. You offered to bring him some clothes to change into. Unlike Yoongi, he accepted.

Jacob's clothes had really come in handy. You would have never guessed that you would find a use for them when he left them behind. You had even considered throwing them out at one of your lowest points. Jacob's promise to remain friends and the excuse he would be coming over had been proven a lie or just wistful thinking. They weren't taking too much space, considering how large your closet was, but you had no use for them but sentimental memories you no longer needed. Until February, that is.

Some of Namjoon's clothes would fit Hoseok better, but you dismissed the idea without considering it. The hybrid's scent would be too prominent on the clothes. Jimin liked wearing the others' clothes because he claimed he loved being enveloped in their scents. It was also the reason he had stolen one of your hoodies that fit him and refused to give it back.

Jacob's scent had faded from his clothes after so many months, Namjoon had confirmed it. He had left in early December, five months had come and passed since then. You could remember the months leading up to the break up. It wasn't the fights, there weren't many of them, but the silence and the distance that had broken you. You had been at work all day and he had been at the studio. When he went out you either couldn't go because you were busy or you were too tired to. He didn't get your hobbies. He wasn't a fan of reading and he didn't let you listen to his tracks before they were ready. You weren't good at giving feedback, he had told you laughing after you had said the track felt like something was missing in the chorus. You had been getting further and further apart for more than a year. The house was but a way to fool yourself that everything was alright.

Yoongi had helped Hoseok shower, following your advice to not ruin the cast on his arm and wet the bandages you had wrapped around some of the deeper wounds.

Dinner was different. You had carried two trays down with Jin's help for the two hybrids. It was better for Hoseok not to move and even if he could, Yoongi wouldn't be thrilled at the idea. Jungkook didn't come up for dinner. He wouldn't leave the atelier and Jin carried another tray to him, because there was no way he would let him go without eating. Jimin asked after him. He didn't speak for the rest of dinner picking up the food on his plate with a guilty expression on his face.

John did come the next morning. He didn't press and didn't threaten anyone, not that you had expected him to but it was a relief nonetheless. John was an intimidating man with his height and bulkiness. Yoongi hissed, backing into a corner when he saw him. John looked him up and down, taking in his split lip, the bruises and his worn clothes, and then showed you a picture of his daughter on his phone. Yoongi regarded him for a little longer before disappearing again.

Jungkook and Jimin were avoiding each other. Jungkook did everything in his power not to find himself in the same room as Jimin, getting up and leaving whenever Jimin entered. The hurt on Jimin's face was heartbreaking every time it happened. You tried to comfort him but you couldn't do much when you were gone most of the day and you had to check Hoseok's injuries every morning and night.

You were in your office scanning a few documents when the email was delivered. Your hand froze, unable to comprehend the contents at first.

There was a knock on the half-opened door. Namjoon walked inside. "Are you coming for dinner?"

You looked up from your phone. "I have to go to Virginia the day after tomorrow."

#bts #bts hybrid au #btscreatorscorner #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #bts angst #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #jikook #yoonmin #sope

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lillywillow · 3 years

Text

For Heart or For Country

Summary: “You’re in line to be the next ruler of your kingdom. But first, you must marry the young ruler of your worst enemy. Would you risk all of your happiness for the sake of stopping a war? Or will you find true love in the town’s pub?”

Word Count: 3089

Pairings: Natasha x gender neutral Reader/ gender neutral Loki X Reader (arranged)

Warnings: Seductive Nat, arranged marriage

Written for @caplanbuckybarnes ‘s writing challenge. Go check out her amazing works!

From the moment you were born, you were destined to take over from your father. You spent countless hours in lessons learning how to be ruler of the kingdom, been taught everything from politics to art, sword fighting to etiquette. Long story short, everything you needed to take the throne and face the challenges that came with wearing the crown.

For years, the kingdom had been at war but recently there was at last a chance for peace but it came with a cost... an arranged marriage. You weren’t so sure about it but if it meant your people being safe, you would sacrifice your own happiness.

Ever since your father had made the announcement of your impending wedding, it had consumed your every thought. You hadn’t even met your betrothed and, yet, you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with them. You had watched the older servants with their spouses and to be honest with yourself it melted your heart. Even your father was a kind and gentle person when it came to your mother. With any luck, the person you were going to marry would be kind to you.

Deciding you needed a distraction; you put on a disguise and managed to sneak out of the palace. Sure you could have gotten drunk in your room but where was the fun in that? You had crept out on a few occasions so you knew that the townsfolk knew how to party compared to those stuffy nobles.

From the moment you stepped inside the tavern named The Nest, the atmosphere was abuzz with excitement. The walls were decorated with purple fabric hangings, crossbows, longbows, arrows and other archery items. A taxidermy hawk was perched above the door, its eyes ever watching. A one eyed dog ran about the patrons, getting pats from some of them and cleaning up pieces of dropped food. People were dancing, singing and drinking, some leaning on each other for support as they swayed. To any other noble, the scene may have looked chaotic but to you, it only looked like fun.

With a grin, you made your way over to the bar and took a seat. Still taking in your surroundings, you barely noticed when the sandy haired bartender stood in front of you.

“What can I get you?”

“Oh! Um...” You tried to think of something that would not give away your identity as a noble. The man raised an eyebrow at you.

“Hey, Clint! Two boilermakers over here,” another patron called.

The man whom you now know as Clint poured them the drinks and turned back to you.

“So?”

“I’ll have... o-one of those,” you said, making a feeble attempt to pound your fist on the counter in an attempt to fit in.

Clint tilted his head and gave you a curious look.

“Alright...”

Clint made the boilermaker and placed it in front of you. Thanking him, you took a swig of the drink and felt instant misgivings about it as the alcohol burned not only your throat but your ears and the very pit of your stomach. Clint laughed as you coughed and spluttered.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“You... might say that,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth.

“You picked the right night to come. Nat’s doing a show.”

“Nat?”

“Wow, you really aren’t from around here if you don’t know Natasha. Just watch,” he advised, nodding his head over to the stage.

The stage was well lit and crowed around the edges by men and women who were eagerly waiting for whoever was about to appear from behind the purple curtains.

Music began and a foot decorated with a silver anklet emerged. The audience cheered loudly as the woman behind her curtain slowly began to reveal herself. She wore a black piece of fabric around her upper body, twisted just a little in the centre of her chest. The bottom of her costume was made up of a red fabric front and back which started out solid but faded to transparent as it went down and held together by delicate chains. Silver cuffs adorned her upper arms and wrists. Her lips were painted sinfully crimson. Sparkly onyx hairpins held her red curls in place. She was absolutely stunning.

The woman slowly began to sway her hips to the music, arms and feet poised. It was almost hypnotic in the way she moved. As the beat picked up, so did her dancing. One of the men near the front of the stage started to get a little carried away and tried to climb up.

Fearing for the safety of the dancer, you tensed and shifted to help her but Clint placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Easy. Nat can handle herself around these drunk idiots.”

You watched as Nat placed her foot on the man’s cheek before kicking him off the stage. The crowd jeered and laughed at the man, some pouring their drinks on him. Despite the interruption, Nat continued her performance.

Her face was calm and collected, never faltering, as the audience got more and more rowdy.

Nat ended her performance by kneeling and giving a graceful bow. The throng of people got even more riled up as she headed back behind the curtain and before you knew it, a fight broke out. You could only sit on your barstool and laugh as the place erupted into bedlam. As a noble, the most you had ever witnessed people scuffle as a heated argument that never went beyond words and even then they never used the language you heard flying around the room. Sure, there was the battlefield but once again that was an entirely different situation.

However, your humour was soon cut short as the royal guards walked in to break up the fight. You felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

“You hiding from those guys?” Clint asked, not even fazed by the mayhem around him.

“S-sorta...”

Clint jumped over the bar and prompted you to follow him. You weren’t entirely sure what made you decide to trust a total stranger nonetheless, you followed his lead. As he walked along, he dodged all fists, tankards and bottles that flew his way. You did your best but still caught the occasional projectile to your body, taking great care not to let any hit your face lest there be questions tomorrow.

He stopped to look around before opening a panel in the back wall, just big enough for you to squeeze out.

“Follow the tunnel until the end. That’ll take you to the backstreets. Be fast. The guards will start patrolling the minute they break things up here. Just make sure you close the exit on the other side.” With that, Clint pushed you through the gap and closed the panel behind you.

Just as he said, you followed the tunnel until the end, closing the door behind you and made your way through the backstreets until you had made it all the way home, fortunately without incident.

As you got ready for bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Nat. She was just so beautiful... Could this be just a crush? You had to know for certain.

...

The following night, you once again crept out of the palace and back to The Nest and sat at the bar. The place was busy but nowhere near as packed as it was last night.

“I see the guards failed to catch you,” Clint commented, making his way over to you.

“Yeah... um... is Nat dancing again tonight by any chance?”

Clint gave you a sly look.

“She’s not dancing but she is working. Hey, Nat!”

Your heart began to race as the red head walked over to you. Tonight she was wearing a black, off-the-shoulder dress with a red belt around her waist. Even outside of her dancing costume she was beautiful.

“What?”

“This is the one I was telling you about.”

You felt panic seize in your chest. They were talking about you? What in the world could they have possibly been saying? Nat looked you up and down, carefully examining you before glancing over at Clint who gave an approving nod.

“Let’s dance...”

Before you could protest, Nat grabbed your hand and dragged you onto the dance floor. It was no surprise to you that she was just as graceful on her feet as she had been on stage. As you danced with her, you could feel her brushing her hands over your hips and waist. You found yourself surrendering to her touch. At the end of the song, Nat wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed her lips to your ear.

“Tell me... what is a noble doing in a place like this?”

You completely froze.

“Wh-what makes you think...?”

“Everything. From the way you dance, to your posture and your speech. So, answer my question.”

“Is... is there somewhere private we can talk?”

Nat lead you to the backroom after checking the coast was clear.

“Now talk...”

With a sigh, you removed your hood, showing her your face.

“The heir to the throne,” she whispered reverently.

You put your hood back on and looked down.

“You should get out of here. Folks in these parts don’t take kindly to nobles, especially members of the royal family. What are you doing here anyway?”

“I... I wanted to experience as much freedom as I could before I get married...”

“So one last fling before finally settling down. How sweet.” Her voice positively dripped venom as she spoke.

“It’s not like that!”

“Then tell me what it is like...”

With a sigh, you looked out the tiny window on the back wall that let in a sliver of moonlight.

“Ever since I was young, I dreamed of having a perfect wedding with the perfect person I would spend the rest of my life with... but with this war, I’m to marry one of the children of the opposing kingdom as a token of peace... I don’t know what kind of person they are. If they’re good, maybe we could work together to fix some of the broken parts of the city and of course, I would help in their kingdom too but if they’re not a good person, well...”

Nat was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking.

“I really hate it when Clint is right,” she sighed.

You turned to look at her.

“Clint?”

“You see, Clint has this innate sense of finding the good in people and helping them out. He helped me a few years back...”

You held her hand, encouraging her to continue.

“I was in a really bad place... did some really bad things... Clint helped me get out of it. Got me a job, a home... even made me partner. I owe a lot to him...”

You couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy for the man even though you knew it was completely irrational.

“So you and he are...?”

Nat shook her head.

“We tried it once but it didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends.”

You couldn’t help but feel a tiny sense of relief.

“I would like to get to know you better... for however I have until my impending marriage. That is if you’ll let me.”

“What about after?”

“I’ll try and see you if I can... and if not; you can be my one who got away.”

“That was... really cheesy,” she laughed.

“I guess it was... but what do you say?”

“On one condition; don’t make any promises you can’t or don’t intend to keep. I’ve been through enough of that in my lifetime.”

“It’s a deal.”

...

Over the next few weeks, you got to know Nat quite well. You knew everything about her and she knew everything about you and not just as future sovereign but as a person. Eventually the time came when the feuding royal family came to your kingdom, bringing with them your spouse to be.

They introduced you to the youngest member of the family named Loki. Loki was about your age and attractive enough but in the short time you spent with Natasha, your heart purely belonged to her. Your respective fathers left you alone to bond, catching daggers in their backs from the glares from both you and Loki as they left.

“They certainly can be civil when they want to be,” Loki sneered.

“You got that right...”

“You don’t really want to be married to me do you?”

You thought carefully about how to answer.

“I don’t even know you... but how else can we stop this war?”

“I have been doing research on my end. If we can pool our resources, perhaps we can find how it began and how we can stop it. Shall we?”

Loki offered a slender hand which you took.

“We shall.”

...

In the time leading up to your wedding, you and Loki spent every minute of the day together. To anyone else, it looked like a couple bonding and getting to know each other before your upcoming nuptials. To you and Loki, it was a mission; one to find out the truth and put an end to the war.

Your nights were spent with Nat, talking about Loki and what else you could do to stop the fighting. There was one night you had crept in after seeing Nat and Loki had caught you and you thought for sure you were done for but instead, Loki covered for you. Loki was fully supportive of your relationship with Natasha and encouraged you to pursue her once this whole thing had blown over.

Eventually it came time when your wedding was fast approaching. The night before the big event, you were of course with Natasha, wanting to spend as long as you could with each other before whatever happened tomorrow.

“I promise you Nat, we will be together...”

Nat teared up and shook her head.

“Remember the deal you made, Y/N. You said you wouldn’t make promises you couldn’t keep...”

“But I intend to keep this one...”

“Just go!”

Nat turned away so you couldn’t see her cry. You gently turned her back to you and kissed her softly. She kissed back, holding you tight as if she didn’t want to let you go. Eventually you had to break for air.

“If... if this really is our last night together... then let’s make a memory that will last a lifetime...”

With that, you kissed her again, this time with all the love and passion you could muster. It may have seemed scandalous to spend the night before your wedding with another but you wouldn’t give Nat away for the world.

...

The following morning, you and Loki had set your plan into motion. The wedding started out like any other with guests arriving and people all taking their places. Your heart was hammering against your ribs and blood roared in your ears as the ceremony began. Loki remained calm and collected, keeping cool until the right moment.

“If anyone has any objections as to why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“We object,” both you and Loki said in unison. The whole room erupted into shock. Instantly, both Odin and your father rounded on the pair of you, absolutely seething.

“Silence!” Loki snarled. The room fell quiet.

“Now, the whole point of this wedding was to stop this ridiculous war. A war that was started over a futile reason...”

Both you and Loki went to where you had hidden two ancient artefacts; one from your history and one from Asgard’s.

“Many years ago, our kingdom was accused of taking this,” you said, holding the item up high.

“But they were wrong. We had our own the whole time,” Loki stated, holding up the other.

“Our two kingdoms went to war when they should have been joining forces as we were once centuries ago...”

The pair of you combined the two items to show they fitted perfectly together.

“We should be united once more. Let us put a stop to the fighting once and for all!”

The gathering all cheered and rejoiced at the prospect of peace. Your fathers sat there sullenly while their wives attempted to gently comfort them. Loki gently turned to you.

“Isn’t there someone you want to see?”

With Loki’s blessing, you ran out of the church.

...

Nat had been drowning her sorrows at The Nest. She had known this day was long coming but it didn’t stop the ache she felt in her heart from losing you to another. Clint did his best to try and comfort her but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t even look up when her name was called but eventually Clint did catch her attention.

“What?!” she hissed. Clint pointed behind her to where you were standing still in your wedding clothes.

“Y/N? What are you-” You cut her off with a kiss.

“Loki and I did it. We were able to restore peace and we didn’t even have to get married. We can be together now...”

“But I’m just a common barmaid. You’re going to take over the throne...”

“And when I do, I can make whatever rule I want and marry whoever I want. I want to marry you one day Natasha... that is if you’ll have me...”

“I...” Nat looked over to Clint who smiled and nodded. “Yes...”

...

Over the next few weeks, you worked in tandem with Nat to fix the rough parts of the city, just as you had told her. There was a lot of gossip surrounding your relationship but neither of you cared. You had also made a point to stay in touch with Loki to find out how things were going in Asgard.

After so many years of war, it was nice to finally see some happiness. Maybe in time, there would be a royal wedding after all. A real one out of love that was formed between two hearts that truly cared for one another.

#cappysforeverchallenge #natasha romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x Reader #loki of asgard #loki x gender neutral reader #arranged marriage fic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #ROYAL AU #royal marriage #gender neutral reader #war and peace #true love

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hitory--chan · 3 years

Text

SasuHina Month 2021

Day 1: The beginning of us

Of playdates and dinosaur cookies

Sasuke bit his lower lip, feeling shy for the first time in his short life.

His eyes roamed the entire landscape in front of him, but they fervently avoided looking to his right side, fearful that if he did, then he might never look away again.

That´s was what his older brother told him would happen if he did, and Sasuke, barely a seven years old boy, was terrified just thinking he would spend the rest of his life feeling the whirlwind in his tummy, the warmth of his face and the tickling sensation in his throat that told him he would throw up at any moment just by looking at his new neighbor.

Instead he looked at Itachi, his seventeen-year-old older brother, who was sitting across from him as he talked animatedly to the girl's caretaker beside him about things he couldn't understand and didn't seem to match the rhythm of his lips.

The four of them were at the park, sitting at a picnic table taking a break from the playdate that the older ones arranged for the two youngers who were now having a snack before going back to play each for their part, like they had been doing it for an hour.

That day when both couples met, Sasuke had refused to let go Itachi´s leg, hiding his face in the fabric of his brother´s pants to avoid looking at them and let out a furious blow on the older's thigh when he heard him laugh with Kö - as he learned the man's name was - after Hinata - that's what she was called - asked them if his tummy hurt.

When Itachi and Kö left them in the middle of the playground to sit and watch them from a distance, Sasuke had done his best to avoid looking at Hinata, feeling inexplicably annoyed when she stopped trying to talk to him about what they should play.

But now it was difficult because they were sitting together and there were a lot of interesting noises that caught his attention but he couldn't look for where they were coming from, because if he did, he would have to turn to Hinata’s direction and he would undoubtedly look at her.

He couldn't allow that.

So he keep eating the dinosaur cookies he´d brought especially for this occasion, feeling his tongue dry after putting a Pterodactyl, a Stegosaurus and a Tyrannosaurus Rex in his mouth at the same time, so he reached for the apple juice box he'd left on the table with one hand, but he squealed in surprise when his fingers collided with others as small as his, and before even think about it, he turned his head and froze when his gaze locked onto the pale eyes of the girl.

A few seconds went through in complete silence, until he began to cry.

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He didn't speak to her until they were both twelve years old.

Honestly, it hadn't been his intention, the words that were hovering in his head had simply left his mouth without any warning.

"Digimon is better than Pokémon"

She looked at him in horror, as if he had just said the worst insult that could be said to a person, clutching the strap of the Jigglypuff crossbody bag in her hands.

He bit his tongue and instantly turned away from the metal fence that separated his house from the rest of the world, determined to walk back inside his house and put his face in the first bucket of water he could find, but before he took a third step he heard her speak.

"D-Digimon is a copy of Pokémon"

He slowly turned around, feeling personally insulted.

They both began to have a heated discussion about why one show was better than the other, launching arguments and counter arguments that were moved to the living room of his house after he invited her in to continue arguing while they ate cookies and drank lemonade as an Itachi´s courtesy, who simply walked into the room and put the refreshments in front of them when they were organizing a schedule in which they would watch both series together to showoff which one was the best.

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Only a year later he realized, with the help of his brother, that he might be in love with her.

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At fifteen he took her hand for the first time.

It happened while leaving school.

He was walking a few steps behind Hinata when some older boys, seniors, approached and started harassing her.

Like everyone in his class, puberty had caught up with Hinata.

But while the other girls in his grade had barely defined their waists or their breasts just started to grow, Hinata had had to adjust her clothes and change bra sizes at least half a dozen times.

And those changes certainly caught the attention of the boys at school and men on the street, who didn't care if she was still wearing her Togepi-themed stockings or the sheer number of pokemon-faced pins in her backpack, instead of stopping them, they actually seemed it cute and reason enough to try more insistently.

Sasuke was bothered by that, but he didn't interfere because he believed she should be brave enough to stop them herself.

Well, that changed when he saw how they tried to pull up her skirt.

With a sudden wave of fury and taking advantage of his recently developed high -average stature for boys his age- in addition to his robust body, he walked faster, pushing the boy who was most actively teasing her aside and grabbing her hand to move her away with fast steps from that place.

He only stopped when they arrived to the park and nearly collided with the ice cream man, just realizing her fingers had slipped between his and closed around. He squeezed her hand and stroked with his thumb as best he could in an attempt to comfort her when she rested her forehead against his shoulder, preventing him from seeing her face.

She mumbled something and he laughed, motioning for the ice cream man to come over them, letting her choose the most ridiculously large and expensive ice cream that this ice cream man could offer.

Later when they returned home, they watched a Pokemon marathon even though it was supposed to be Digimon's turn, as they had christened Fridays years ago.

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Several weeks later, when she was no longer emotionally sensitive about what happened on that occasion, he confessed to her.

To his surprise, she did not reject him.

They started dating.

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The first time they had sex, it was the night of the prom, which neither of them wanted to attend.

They were seventeen years old, but they both felt ready to take that step in their relationship.

And, well, they hadn't planned on doing it on that particular night.

Instead of going to the prom, they preferred to celebrate on their own by going on a date to the ice-skating rink in the center of town. He fell a lot, he wasn't afraid to admit it, he had humbly accepted his legendary inability to handle any kind of rollerblades that might exist, but ice-skating was one of Hinata's favorite activities, and he would sacrifice his butt any day as long as he could watch her laugh happily while trying to teach him to skate.

When they were finally exhausted they went out to eat and then decided to walk home in the cloudy night, ignoring the thunder that warned of the impending storm.

They were close when it started raining loudly, drenching them from head to toe hopelessly before reaching Sasuke's door and entered the house, where they were all alone.

They went straight to Sasuke's room. He pulled her towel over her head and began to dry her hair while Hinata took off her coat and helped him get rid of his. They hugged for a moment as they looked into each other's eyes, the space between them disappearing as their lips met.

But the defining step was taken by Hinata, who pushed him onto the bed to sit and then climbed on top of him, kissing him again as she worked to remove her blouse and unbutton his pants.

That night the cold parts of his body began to heat up with the touches they gave each other as they fused into one.

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Having a long distance relationship was difficult, people always said it but they did not believe their relationship was so fragile that they could not bear a few kilometers between them.

But being in universities so far apart from each other proved to be a more difficult challenge than they could bear. They were barely twenty and twenty-one years old, adulthood was still very young for both of them, and the process of adjusting to this new life was proving more complicated than they had ever thought.

He didn't notice the decline in his relationship with Hinata until it was too late, but looking back, there was no other possible outcome.

The first few months there were many love calls, talking almost every night until one of the two could not carry on anymore. But the further the semester progressed, the more difficult it was to talk, the calls went from being daily to inter-daily, then only on weekends.

One call a week, one every fortnight or once a month.

When they talked… well, they didn't talk, they argued.

They argued over trifles or jealousy until one of them couldn't take it anymore and hanged up the phone without any warning.

Then it happened.

"I think we should break up"

Sasuke was livid upon hearing that.

His brain stopped registering the other words she said through the loudspeaker, and instead it repeated them cruelly over and over again, mocking him.

I think we should break up.

We should break up.

Break up.

He did not say anything and pressed the red button on his cell phone, wasted no time and blocked her contact from both his phone and any social network they might have in common and then threw the device against the wall, destroying it in one fell swoop.

He didn't sleep an eye that night, not the night after or the night after that.

And when he finally got to sleep, he dreamed of her.

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Now Sasuke is twenty-six years old, he had finished his studies two years ago and returned to his hometown, got a good job and paid for his own apartment where he lived comfortably.

Hinata hadn't come back, not even for the holidays.

Kö had told him that she had stayed to do a specialty, that she was fine and happy. He wanted to see it for himself.

So he looked for her on networks just to remember that he had blocked her, so he unlocked her phone number- which he had never deleted, and even if he had, it would not be a problem, since he remembered every digit of her number - and he unblocked her from Instagram, her Facebook was gone, it seems she had deleted her account.

On Instagram there was nothing new, the last photo published had been three years ago, and reviewing the previous publications he noticed she hadn’t deleted the pictures both of them were together.

He tried calling her only to find out she had changed her number, and that the one he was calling now belonged to an older man with a severe cough problem.

He didn't try anymore, there was nothing more to try.

He had to focus on the present.

He is now a lawyer, the uncle of three little terrors whom he loved with all his soul even though he constantly complained about how loud they were.

Soon they would be staying at his house to take care of them while Itachi and his wife went to another city to finish the transmissions for the adoption of a fourth child, the second that was not biologically theirs.

That's why he was at his childhood convenience store, the only one that still sold the dinosaur cookies that had him so obsessed as a child, which his nephews absolutely loved and demanded every time they visited.

He paid for a large quantity of them and thanked the clerk, opening one of the cookie packages for him as he turned to leave.

The automatic door opened and someone rushed in, bumping into him and knocking the cookies onto the floor. He was about to insult them, but that person beat him to it.

"I am so sorry! I'll pay for the cookies”

He froze, recognizing that voice instantly.

"Hinata?"

"Sasuke?"

His black eyes met her clear ones and the little breath that had remained inside was expelled from him. After years without seeing her, she still seemed like the girl - woman, he corrected himself - more beautiful his eyes had had the privilege of resting on.

"It's been a while"

He wanted to kick himself for commenting on the obvious; instead he bit down hard on the inside his cheek in the sneakiest way possible.

"Yes ... quite ..." she looked at the floor and so did he, where the cookies had already beaten the five second rule more than a minute ago "I'm sorry again for your cookies" she said, this time with a little humor in her voice.

"No problem, I have more" he replied, raising the bag in his hand, emphasizing his words with that action.

Silence fell between them, uncomfortable as it had been in his youth when he had refused to speak to her during all those play dates Itachi had made for him without asking, but the lack of words or active movement allowed him to observe her more closely, listing all of the characteristics that had changed during those years without seeing her.

Her plump cheeks were no longer as prominent, giving her face a more pronounced shape. Her eyes were still large and expressive, but even in the poor light of that establishment he could make out the darkened skin under her eyes. Hadn't she been sleeping properly? Was she working too hard? It had also seemed she had grown a little more, or perhaps he had shrunk, he was only sure that she did not reach the tip of his nose before. He couldn't tell from her baggy clothes - old habits hardly die - but she was probably thinner than before if her face was any indication of it.

Before he could continue searching for the differences between the her of the past and the present, the door opened again and they were both forced to move to make way for whoever came in.

"It was good to see you, Sasuke" she said and he could see the sincerity that was expressed on her face at her words. It was a goodbye, he knew it, and the storm raged inside of him as she walked around and past him, beginning to move away from him.

It was a full-blown impulse when he leaned back and grabbed her arm, sliding his hand quickly towards hers noting the lack of any jewels that could make him reconsider his actions, secretly grateful for the lack of any kind of rings.

"I know a place," he started, his brain working a mile for minute searching for the right words to say "It's near here and they serve decent food, maybe we should go there to catch up?" he said, increasingly unsure of his own voice and ending in a question, something uncharacteristic of his usually blunt attitude.

Instead of answering immediately, Hinata looked at him searching for something that he couldn't even guess what it was. Maybe he was wrong and she was with someone? Maybe she was looking for better words to reject him, she was that considerate.

He tried to lower his hopes, but it was difficult when her own hand closed momentarily around his before releasing it again, perhaps it had just been a small spasm, nothing intentional.

But when she smiled and her hand closed again, the weight of his shoulders and the nervousness of his body disappeared, being replaced with relief when she said...

"Lead the way"

#SasuHina #SasuHina Month 2021 #Sasuke Uchiha #Hinata Hyuga #day 1 #the beginning of us #sasuhina month

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

🤬 | seokjin

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ frenemy!seokjin ft. e2l and the magnificent get-along sweater | 2K words → a/n: this is dedicated to my homie @jincherie who has been, as they say, wiping her ass everyday only to shit again. i can’t really do much to actually alleviate your circumstances except maybe making you smile, so i hope this can be your tiny ray of sunshine amidst the crap. this fic literally makes no sense because i wrote this within one hour so i’m sorry but pls know that ilysm!!

“Where’d you even fucking get this abomination?” you growl, struggling fruitlessly against the coarse fabric. In your fidgeting, your elbow knocks into Seokjin’s broad chest, causing more damage to your weak joints than anything. Even so, Seokjin grunts overdramatically, stepping on your toes in retaliation.

“Yoongi-chi, you know that I love you very much—” Seokjin seethes, his teeth clenched almost painfully as he fights to restrain himself from ripping the sweater in half, a la Hulk style. “—but I will not hesitate to stab you once I get out of here.”

“Not my fault that you both are acting like a bunch of toddlers,” Yoongi snorts, hip jutted out in contempt like the homosexual that he is. “And to answer your other question, I bought that sweater online after your last fight, when you two were literally wrestling on the kitchen counter. I didn’t know whether I walked into some intense BDSM play or a WWE ring.”

“You bought a fucking get-along sweater for us? What are you, some sort of Christian camp counselor?” you growl, kicking your legs out in an attempt to hit him. The slimy twink bastard jumps away gracefully, landing onto the loveseat opposite the couch that you were sitting on. He crosses his legs, opening his arms wide when your traitorous cat jumps onto his lap, looking to all the world like a terrible Bond villain from the 80s.

“If I was Christian, I would not put the two of you into a sweater together,” Yoongi says. He strokes your cat, who purrs loudly before pointing a contemptuous glare back at you, as if she was enjoying your torture too. Dumb cat. You never liked Miko anyway.

Yoongi continues, “Anyone would two eyes knows that you both are just one brawl away from fucking each other into the next dimension. Lord knows that your sexual tension could power the entire city.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to snort, who has been relatively quiet in comparison to you. He’s also less fidgety, but that might be because he at least has the advantage and comfort of occupying 90% of the sweater space due to his oceanic shoulders. You once described him as “horizontally imbalanced,” which he did not find slightly amusing.

“I would rather place my balls into a panini press and feed them to Miko than to ever fuck Y/N,” Seokjin fake-gags, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “It would be less hot for me to actually grill my penis than for me to sink into her hell-ish cunt. I swear, you could bake bread in there with how much yeast has accumulated from—“

You headbutt his chin before he can finish, squawking indignantly. The satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together in pain is momentary but worthwhile. “Excuse you, but it’d be an honor to fuck me! I’ve got that S-tier pussy! If my pussy was in a gacha game, people would spend thousands of dollars just to roll for my mystical coochie!”

Yoongi smirks. “So you admit that you do want Seokjin to fuck you!”

“What the fuck! No! That is—what the—I don’t!” You stammer, face flushing as you struggle to regain your footing in the conversation. Yoongi’s eyebrow raises, intrigued by your slip-up. “That is totally not what I meant, and you know it!”

Yoongi picks at his nails, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t speak hetero. Prithee, explain thy peculiar mating rituals to one who does not walk the straight and narrow path.”

You slump back against the couch, forcing Seokjin to follow and fall backward with you. His shoulder hits you square in the boob, causing you to groan in pain. “Yoongi, just let us out of this thing before I lose a limb to this walking inflatable tubeman,” you plead, ignoring Seokjin’s glare.

“I resent that,” Seokjin inputs, but no one pays him any mind. Your attention is focused solely on the smirking kitty man in front of you, who grows smugger as time ticks on.

Everyone in your friend group is aware of the weird relationship you have with Seokjin. Ever since you met him in your freshman year of university, things were never peaceful between the two of you. It was always constant bickering, squabbling, competing… everything. Even Jungkook, Seokjin’s other sworn enemy, doesn’t argue with the elder as much as you did.

For three years, everyone just assumed it was your weird kindergarten schoolyard way of showing affection for each other, and at the beginning, it might have been. You and Seokjin, both of whom have never dated in their lifetimes despite being moderately popular while growing up, are unsurprisingly emotionally stunted and never learned how to just be nice to people you like. Affection who? Compassion where? To the both of you, physical connection can only be achieved through hair tugging and nipple pinching, and not even in the sexy way.

But at a certain point, things were starting to get tiring. Your arguments only grew larger in scale, to the point where it was getting hard to differentiate whether the bruises on your neck were from pinches or something else.

“I just… Ugh… When are they gonna fuck, hyung? I’m actually getting tired of their constant fighting,” Namjoon had lamented one afternoon, just a day after your last altercation with Seokjin. It had been a big one, where Seokjin nearly lost a tooth when you had landed a neat uppercut squarely on his jaw after he called your toes ‘a foot fetishist’s worst nightmare.’

Yoongi’s boyfriend had been staring listlessly into his bowl of soup for the past hour, and he was honestly starting to get worried when it looked like Namjoon had started muttering to himself in a foreign language. Yoongi almost thought he might have been scrying for a prophecy, begging for an answer to their most pressing question.

“What do you want me to do about it? Lock them in a room and let them out only after they’ve done the deed? Mixed bodily fluids? Performed the monkey dance to its climax?! No thanks, I don’t wanna be near them when that can of worms finally explodes,” Yoongi grimaced, shivering at the thought.

Namjoon shook his head quickly, face paling with him. “Heaven forbid. Maybe you can keep it PG? How about getting one of those get-along sweaters or something. I think they used those in kindergarten.”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, but the question would be how I’d get them into it.” He flaps his noodle arms around in demonstration. “I’m not exactly in the running for world’s strongest twink. Plus, years of fighting each other means they’re both stronger than I am.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Easy, just dare them to wear it. Make it into a competition. Nothing gets them more riled up than when they’re trying to outcompete each other.”

And so, that’s how the two of you had gotten stuck in a 3XXL Hello Kitty sweater that Yoongi had bought from Ebay. It has yet to be decided whether spending $40 on expedited shipping was worth it.

“Look, Yoongi-chi. We both promise that we will stop fighting once you let us out of this,” Seokjin says, smiling sweetly at him. Had Yoongi been younger and much more prone to the alluring temptation of the Straight Man™️, he might have caved. But Yoongi is older now, plus he knows when Seokjin is lying better than any polygraph test.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving him off. “Fat chance. You’d probably stop fighting for approximately three hours before getting mad about mint chocolate ice cream or something.”

“Hey! Give us some credit. We both agree that flavor is abhorrent, so we would never argue about that,” you retort, with Seokjin nodding furiously in agreement. You glance at him. “And I feel like we’d last at least six hours without fighting. What was our record again?”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Seokjin says.

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, I can promise at least five hours and thirty minutes. Maybe.”

Yoongi groans, rubbing his temples in frustration. His souring mood even makes Miko jump away in fright, and the two idiots trapped in a sweater can immediately feel the dip in temperature. Uh oh, here we go!

“I am absolutely sick and tired of the two of you dumbasses fighting all the time! It’s embarrassing as hell trying to bring either of you anywhere in public because everyone mistakes your little catfights for strange foreplay or whatever,” Yoongi glowers. The two of you shrink into your seats, ashamed.

“We’ve only gotten kicked out of one Costco—” Seokjin defends.

“But we did get fined for public indecency at the beach when I pulled your trunks down, which was totally unfair, by the way,” you mutter.

“You literally threatened to, and I quote, ‘Suck the soul out of Seokjin’s dick until he dies.’ How the hell is that unfair?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“It was a death threat! I would’ve accepted a charge for attempted murder, but that was not going to be a sexy blowjob, I assure you—”

Yoongi holds up a hand to silence you. “Face it, you both like each other. Whatever! Sure, you guys are the token straight people in our friend group, but that doesn’t make you bland as hell! Well, actually, it does but…” Yoongi pauses, wondering if it was worth lying. It takes a second for him to refocus. “Where was I? Oh right—“

Yoongi clears his throat, starting again. He heaves a deep breath, shoulders sagging tiredly as he puts on the sincerest face he can muster. “Listen, I just want to say that I care a lot about you, okay? And it sucks seeing the both of you hurting every time the other person says something really mean that neither of you even mean! If anything, will you please stop for me? If you really cared about our friendship, will you do it for me?”

There is a heavy pause as Yoongi strives to get his breathing back in check, his impassioned speech causing his fragile grandpa heart to race. He can feel his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, unused to using his “hyung voice” on Seokjin or you. Separately, the two of you are very reliable, never really needing him to scold either of you. Together, however… that’s a different story, but as the next eldest hyung, it really only fell to Yoongi to fix his friends’ mess of a relationship.

Screw age hierarchy. Yoongi would love to see Jungkook try to get Seokjin and you to fuck. Would absolutely pay to see the twerp squirm as he tries to even say the word “penis.”

After a while, Seokjin and you share a look. Yoongi watches with bated breath as he waits for either of you to speak, but he can sense some unspoken conversation happening between you. Perhaps, after years of exchanging blows, you had somehow knocked brain cells into each other and now share a weird psychic connection. Or, more likely, the two of you actually like each other and understand each other on a deeply personal level, so personal in fact that you could probably finish each other’s sentences, like—!

“We refuse,” you both reply in tandem, your joined voices echoing throughout the apartment. You both had said it so in sync that Yoongi might have imagined the other person speaking, but no—you both really did just say that to his face. In front of Miko. In front of his goddamn imaginary salad.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi squeaks. He cleans his ears with his fingers but finds no cotton there. These bitches! How dare they just throw his speech to the gutter! That shit took brain cells to think of, and he is not in the business of wasting his precious minutes by using them for productivity.

You shrug, leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder. He can see the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s confusion. “You heard us. We’ve made the executive decision to double our efforts, actually.”

Seokjin nods, not even shoving you off his shoulder like he normally would whenever you made contact with him. What? “Exactly. Honestly, we’ve been fighting for so long that we’ve kinda been just doing it for the bit at this point, and the fact that it annoys you so much is just the icing on the cake.”

Yoongi stares at them. His brain doesn’t feel like it’s connecting to his body at all; he feels like he’s floating. “So. What you’re saying is—“

“We know we like each other. Whatever. But we also like fighting, so who gives a shit if we’re having fun at the end of the day?” you shrug, pinching Seokjin’s cheek for good measure. As per usual, the elder retaliates by grabbing your finger with robot-like accuracy, before biting you there like a ravaging beast.

“And before you ask, no, we aren’t really dating. Yet. We kinda just wanted to piss as many people off before actually becoming official. We honestly didn’t think that you’d be the first one to crack.” Seokjin says, your finger falling from his mouth. The imprint of his teeth marks on your skin are plain as day, but you don’t look remotely bothered by it. In fact, you’re practically cooing at his ‘baby teefies’ like a psychopath.

“I—“ Yoongi stutters, at a loss for words for once in his life. He stands from the chair, but his knees give out from under him, causing him to tumble to the carpeted floor. He holds his head in his hands, shell-shocked. “So… That means…”

“Yeah, we’re kinda just freaky, I guess.” You muse before laughing hysterically when Yoongi begins to sob. “Hey, you’re right! We did make Yoongi cry! Do you think we could make Namjoon piss himself in rage when he finally confronts us too?”

Seokjin cackles, shaking your hand underneath the sweater. “If anyone can do it, I know that we can.”

And so, the two of you stand up clumsily to your feet, not bothering to escape the ridiculous sweater as you both waddled out of Yoongi’s apartment. From outside his door, Yoongi hears the sound of a new fight commencing, your shrieks resonating down the hall and for all the world to hear.

#btsghostie #bts scenarios #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts humor #e2l #kim seokjin #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bangtan #bts fanfic #the sleep deprived series

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Windows

Peter Parker x reader

So basically I got a prompt and accidentally deleted it, cuz I’m an idiot lmao. Peter is friends with the reader watches the reader out of the window cuz he likes her and then he finally comes in her window and confesses who he is and that he likes her one time. They are college aged. I hope I didn’t forget anything.

Warning;smut

Peter always felt like he had 2 lives. His superhero life and private life. But as he worked around the city and saw more people, he saw that there was a third life, home. People acted totally different in the privacy of their homes. Peter literally crawled on many windows on high rises and saw stuff he didn’t want to.

The first time was a pair of large breasts pressed against the glass as a woman was being fucked. Peter just webbed high without seeing in from the ground. As soon as his feet landed, her mouth made a soft o shape and Peter had jumped away from the window. The man probably hadn’t even seen him.

The worst thing he had seen was domestic violence and he wasn’t scared to climb through or shatter a window to save someone. Peter was usually pretty controlled in his actions, having literal super human strength. But when he saw a man punch a child, he had kicked in the window and webbed him to the ceiling. He had clenched his fist to resist pummeling the man. The sobs from the child had brought him back to earth with guilt. It was one of the few times that he waited with the victims until the cops came.

So when you, a classmate that he might think a little too much of, came to classes with bruises on your wrist, Peter was worried. He started following you. Was something going on at home? One thing he didn’t anticipate was that he was going to fall head over heels for you. The little quirky things you did when you thought no one was watching, dancing and singing into your hairbrush. Every time you got a phone call, you would flip off the phone before answering.

The fact that you were so kind to Peter in organic chemistry class didn’t help his growing crush. He had thought about asking you out so many times but it hadn’t been that long since he had broken up with MJ and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be burned again.

So instead he sat on the fire escape near your open window watching you live. He used the excuse that he hadn’t figured out why you were bruises to keep watching you. It was probably a random accident anyways. The shear curtains you had around you window whipped a little in the breeze and obscured the view into your room. So Peter had instead just listened to your softly playing radio and you light singing while doing his homework. He had the police scanner on in his ear but it was a quiet night.

Suddenly you screamed and he heard glass break. Without a second thought, Peter had jumped into your window and to your room. You had shrieked again.

“What the fuck?” You yelped, staring at him.

“What’s wrong?” He said seeing your coffee mug broken on the ground.

“A spider? There’s a spider in my room,” you pointed at a spider in the corner. Peter chuckled nervously before scooping the arachnid up and placing it out your window. It was only after that that he looked back at you and saw that you were only in your panties and bra. He froze for a second before turning away.

“Sorry y/n,” he said and mentally kicked himself. Spider-Man wouldn’t know your name. Fuck.

“How do you know me?” You asked staring. He couldn’t help but think you were absolutely gorgeous staring at him unabashedly in your current state.

“I don’t,” he squeaked and winced.

“I know you,” you said suddenly. “Your voice. Who are you?”

“That’s kinda the point of the mask. So no one knows,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I’ll be going,” Peter said walked to the window.

“Peter Parker,” you said.

“What?”

“You’re Peter Parker,” you said walking close and gently pulling up on the mask. He tensed at your touch but let you pull the mask off. “Peter,” you gasped.

“Uh hi?” He said before licking his lips.

“Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting this,” you admitted. You looked over his suit and couldn’t help but touch the spider on his chest and the webbing on his arm. Peter felt like his heart was going to rip out of the suit. You were so close and wearing so little and literally touching him through the thin suit. Peter started thinking of all the Yankee World Series wins because, of course, his dick wanted to respond. You touched the web shooter on his wrist. Your touches were light and curious but they felt like fire on his skin. He thought about the periodic table. Hydrogen, helium,..

“How do you do it?” You asked. “Like the webs? Are they organic fibers or synthetic? Where do you produce them?”

“Oh, um my apartment. They’re synthetic spider webs. A high density polymer with a super absorbent gel,” he said. You ran a hand up his arm and he inhaled quickly. Were you trying to turn him on or just curious about the suit?

“Kevlar lined Lycra?” You asked, giving the material a pinch. Peter jumped. Okay he was definitely semi-hard at this point. Fuck.

“Something like that,” he said before choking a little as you held both of his biceps.

“Not exactly what I imagined our first kiss to be like but I’ll take it,” you said softly.

“Our first-“ he said before being caught off guard by your lips on his. He froze for a second before responding. Your hand slid up to curl in his hair. You smelled like some kind of sweet lotion and the coffee you spilt. Peter gripped your waist, expecting fabric before feeling a jolt as he touched bare skin. Oh yeah, you were practically naked. You gently pushed him back towards your bed. You broke the kiss and pushed him back on to the bed.

“Oh, okay,” he said as you climbed on his lap. Peter’s hands gripped your thighs as you kissed his neck. You pulled at the suit a little with your fingers.

“How do we get this thing off?” You asked between kisses to his jaw and neck.

“Here,” he said and you pushed the button. His suit slid off his shoulders you shoved it down his body, touching his muscles as you explored him. Peter grabbed your breast through your bra and you sat up and pulled it off. He ran a hand down the middle of your chest and between your breasts before gripping one. You hummed a little with a shy grin.

“You want this right?” You asked. “I basically jumped you.”

“Yeah, it’s cool. Definitely cool,” he said running his hands along your body. You giggled before bending back down to kiss along his chest. You reached your hand into his suit and squeezed his hard cock. Peter gasped and grabbed your hips.

“Take it off,” you said breathlessly before climbing off of him. You pulled your panties off and walked over to your dresser where you pulled out a condom. Peter starred at your wet pussy as you walked back to him. He quickly shoved the suit down his legs and off. You straddled his lap before opening the condom. You jerked him off for a minute before sliding the condom on.

You sank down on his cock and made the prettiest sound. Peter wrapped his arms around your back and kissed along your neck and collar and you slowly bounced. You gasped and moaned freely. Peter could become obsessed with those little sounds you made.

You reached a hand down to rub your clit and he literally groaned at the sight. You taking pleasure from his body the way you wanted. You started speeding up and Peter resisted the urge to fuck up into you as he wanted you in control.

“Fuck me,” you pleaded and his hips started moving. Peter grabbed you by the waist before picking you up and flipping you both over and laying you on your back with your legs hanging over the edge of the bed. His hips snapped against yours roughly and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Yeah, like that,” you moaned. “Fuck.”

Your fingernails dragged along his back and your eyes were clenched closed in pleasure. “Peter,” you gasped as he changed his angle a little. Your mouth hung open and you made a ton of little noises. Peter was grunting and groaning against your skin too.

“Don’t stop. I’m close,” you breathed. He nodded and started think of the periodic table again. The way you were gripping him had him on the edge and he had to focus not to cum right there.

“Chromium,” he breathed as you temporarily clenched him as you got closer. Your brow furrowed a little in confusion but that was forgotten as you reached your high. You moaned out his name loudly and clenched him tightly. He gasped and came at the same time. He kept moving through both of your highs before stopping.

“Fuck,” you said before he pulled out to take care of the condom. “That was great.”

“Yeah,” he said shyly. He slid in bed with you. Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and you tangled your legs together.

“We should have done this months ago,” you said and he looked at you in surprise. “I’ve been missing out.”

He laughed nervously.

“Now you need to take me on a date because I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” you said laying your head against his chest.

“Yeah. I can definitely do that,” he said smiling. “I know a little Thai place...”

“Wait why did you say chromium?” You asked and he flushed a dark red.

#friday night smut #peter parker #peter parker smut #marvel #peter parker x reader #college spiderman #Spider-Man #Spider-Man smut #spider man x reader

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hanaasbananas · 3 years

Text

100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 5

Can I have this dance? (Marichat)

We got a historical one here folks! Because I have absolutely no self control.

AO3

He wasn’t here.

Swallowing her disappointment, Marinette gathered her skirts in her fists and turned away, craning her neck to search for the exit. She shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have been so foolish as to believe his promises but she’d been just like so many other girls, taken in by pretty words and a handsome stranger.

Had this been his plan all along? To entice her just so that he could humiliate her with his absence? And she’d fallen for it! Marinette could feel the weight of others gazes on her, taking in her simple dress, her simple hairstyle that told them she didn’t belong.

Chat had asked her here, had asked that she step foot in his world for one night, and she had agreed, despite maman’s reservations, believing foolishly that she would be alright, as long as Chat was by her side. But on her own...

Invitations to the ball had been extended to everyone in the town and not just the nobility and merchants; and though the only requirement for attendance was that everyone was to wear a mask at all times so as to conceal their identities and station from others, Marinette still felt out of place.

It was clear who among them were the richest; who wore the finest silks and newest fashions in bright colours that Marinette would never be able to wear herself. Her eyes roved over the dresses hungrily, taking in the designs and in fabrics, substituting them in her mind with the few she had at home.

Well. At least the night wasn’t a complete loss.

Finding the exit at last, Marinette began to make her way through the crowd, weaving around dancing couples and shoving aside large skirts as she went, muttering apologies all the way. Oh, and she’d so looked forward to tonight! Dancing at a large ball was worlds apart from dancing at the town fair, and she hadn’t even gotten to enjoy it. If she ever saw that man again, why she’d, she’d—

“Leaving so soon?” Chat’s velvety smooth voice startled her with it’s proximity, stopping Marinette in her tracks.

“Hm?” the amusement in his voice was palpable and Marinette scowled, whirling around to face him.

“ You-!” but her words dissolved on her tongue as she took him in. Chat was dressed smartly in a black frock coat intricately embroidered with golden thread. His mask remained firmly in place over his face, though for once it did not look out of place.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Chat said “I had intended to arrive early, to meet you at the doors, but...certain circumstances forced me to be late.” He sounded truly remorseful, and Marinette took in his windswept blonde hair-messier than usual- his pink cheeks as though he’d only just come in from outside.

Had she got it wrong after all? “I-” she began “I...I thought you had tricked me, brought me here to humiliate me.”

“Never!” Chat exclaimed, causing some people to look over at them. He lowered his voice. “I would never do that to you.”

She ducked her head at his incredulous expression, berating herself for so readily thinking the worst of him. “I’m sorry.”

“What? No you have nothing to apologise for,” Chat waved a hand dismissively. “I should have sent word ahead for you, but…”

Marinette realised with a start that there were many more eyes trained on the two of them than there had been before. She could hear confused murmuring, saw them looking back and forth between her and Chat, but he didn’t seem to notice, rocking back on his heels as he spoke under his breath to himself.

“I had hoped to make my declaration in private, but I suppose this will have to do.”

“Declaration…?” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

The corners of his lips curled up in a smile as he bowed lowly, holding out a hand. Glancing up at her, his green eyes were playful, gleaming in the light as he asked: “Can I have this dance?”

There was a gasp in the crowd, and Marinette felt the blood rushing loudly in her ears, feeling as though all eyes were on her. Chat hadn’t moved at all, looking at her expectantly until, after hesitating for a brief second, she released her grip on her skirt and placed her hand in his.

Chat’s grin was blinding. Curling his fingers around hers, he led her towards the dance floor. “Ignore them,” he whispered, placing his other hand at the small of her back as the dance began and Marinette exhaled shakily.

“I’m not imagining it then, they are watching us?” Chat hummed in response, spinning her out and bringing her close.

“They know who you are, don’t they?” she asked “under the mask?”

“Perhaps.”

Both of them were silent for the rest of the dance as Marinette focused on the steps, hoping not to make a fool of herself in front of so many people. Afterwards, they made their way out into the gardens, where Chat threaded his arm through hers as they walked.

“Why were all those people so interested in us?”

Chat sighed.“I am from the nobility, as you know already, but uh-I have never attended these balls, and if I have, I have never danced.”

Marinette frowned. “But then why dance with me?”

“Well, I intend to court you of course.”

“C-court me?” Marinette sputtered, staring at him incredulously.

“Yes.” He looked down at her, his eyes soft. “That’s why I was late actually.” He let go of her hand, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long velvet box. Opening it slowly, Chat showed her the delicate golden chain and pendant within. “I was getting this, to give to you as a token of my affection and it took longer than expected I-” he broke off as Marinette launched herself at him, pressing her lips to his.

For a moment, he remained frozen in place, and Marinette hesitated, worried that she had overstepped, that he would never want to see her again, that—

—and then his mouth slanted over hers, deepening the kiss, his arms sliding down to her waist and pulling her flush against him. Marinette didn’t know how long she’d been wrapped in his embrace, but when they finally pulled away, they were both flushed and panting, and Chat’s hair was significantly more disheveled than it had been before.

“I take it that means you like the idea of me courting you then." Chat teased, and Marinette could only nod, pulling him in for another kiss.

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #100 ways to say i love you

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notgonnarememberthis · 3 years

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find your way (back to me) - chapter fourteen

Here we gooo. I absolutely have Em to thank yet again for helping me with this chapter and the discord gc for continuously inspiring me to keep writing. It’s honestly been such a blast writing this that I’m getting out updates faster than anything I’ve ever published before. Em knows just as well as me exactly where I want this story to go and that was a neverending push to getting down voices and conversations. I’m just mushy honestly because this is the most reception I’ve ever got to a fic before and I couldn’t do it without an amazing group of people rallying behind me. Thank you all so much.

The walk inside the warehouse feels like a death march. Her heels clang loudly on the cement, the echo off the metal walls is a laughing chorus towards her own personal doom. She misses the lonely sound when the frantic, muffled screaming starts. She knows it’s Malcolm and he knows the steps are hers.

She steps into the room, her hands balled tightly and in no way mentally prepared for the sight. Malcolm’s hands and ankles are bound to the chair, his hair is disheveled and she wonders for a moment how long he’s been struggling. The blood on the side of his face makes her heart skip a few beats but his eyes are worse.

Even from back here she could tell he’s been crying. They’re swollen and the blue stands out against the red rims in the artificial light. His mouth is bound as well, making it clear that’s why he sounded so muffled. She wants more than anything to run to him, free his hands and hug him with all of her might.

And then she spies the one in the chair across from him. Her head is tipped forwards but the white coat alone is enough to identify Dr. Garcia. The woman that she’s caused enough pain. Now trapped in this hellscape. She was going to call, offer to pay for Freddy’s funeral expenses. But no, now she’s stuck in her son’s nightmare. Awaiting death by the madman in the center of it all.

“I’ve got to be honest,” Her eyes jump to the man standing between the two. For the first time he’s wearing no mask. It sickens her how painfully average he looks. Her dreams always showed the monster, sharp teeth and glowing eyes. Absolutely torn apart by every aspect pushing him to murder. She knows better, or she should’ve. The monsters look ordinary until they’re covered in blood. “I wasn’t sure you were going to show up.”

Malcolm’s screams become more frantic and he throws his body in every which way. She knows, painfully, how futile it is. The chairs are bolted to the ground. They won’t budge in the slightest.

“Shut up!” The man snaps, spitting at her son.

“Do not touch him.” Her voice rolls with the threat, more confident than she feels. His gun glistens with the turn back to her.

When he tilts his head towards her the smile is so much worse than she expected. Malcolm stares at her, eyes pleading that she walk away. She can’t. Not again. “You’re bolder when it’s your son tied up, hm?” He steps towards her and she takes another towards him. He points the gun at Malcolm and she freezes. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Malcolm doesn’t have anything to do with this. Let him go.”

“I really thought you would’ve learned better than making demands. Don’t you remember what happened last time?” Her side aches with the recalled memory. “Your recovery is really impressive. Dr. Garcia did stunning work.” He gestures to the unconscious woman. Her breathing is the only indicator that she’s even still alive. “Would be tragic for the world to lose such a gift.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asks. The desperation wrecks her throat. “I would have given you anything you wanted. Just end this.”

“I don’t want your blood money.” He hisses with his head bowed, his challenge to avoid the sin that drove him to madness. “It is poison, you poisoned me.”

“I did nothing to you!”

“Liar!” She steps forwards, emboldened by her anger and the gun trains on her. She takes a deep breath, steadying the fear that sent her heart into orbit. “It’s time to make your choice.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I won’t play your game.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that, so I changed the rules.” He spins on his heel, gun trained on Dr. Garcia. “Either the talented doctor that saved your life or your son.”

She steps back in horror. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“Neither was your escape.” He shrugs with a smirk. “Plans change. If you don’t pick? I’ll kill them both.”

“No!” His glare could lay down an army and she corrects herself. “No, please. Just let me talk to my son.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I just want to say goodbye.” She says. Malcolm begins to protest but she puts a hand up silencing him. “Do you have kids?” He shifts and she knows she struck a nerve. “What would you give to be able to say goodbye?”

The silence weighs heavily on her shoulders. For a few moments all she can hear is her thundering heart. Even Malcolm holds still, wondering what exactly is her plan. Truth be told, she’s not even sure. His permission is no more than a wave of the gun, a signal to go ahead.

She rushes to him coming down hard on her knees before him. Her hands fall on his shoulders while her eyes search for any other injuries. She doesn’t see any more blood than the head wound, which is a relief. So he didn’t want to hurt Malcolm, but he would if she wasn’t careful.

“Oh, Sunshine.” She whispers, her fingers tracing the fabric covering his mouth.

“Don’t take it off!” They both flinch at the shout but she obeys.

Her hand traces up to the wound and he winces painfully. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He gives her a look somewhere along the lines of are you serious? and she smiles despite herself. “Don’t blame yourself for this. You’re too hard on yourself.” He doesn’t respond but his eyes glisten. “Your sister will need you. I need you to be strong for her one more time, ok?” The tears come down with that statement. He knows, god help them both he knows what she plans to do. “Gil will take care of you both. Tell him…” Her voice catches with the confession she never got to say. “Tell him I loved him. Tell your sister too. Every time she needs to hear it.”

“Hurry up.”

“I love you all, so much. I’m so proud of you.” She cups his jaw with both hands. His words are muffled but she knows he’s begging her to stop all this. To stall just a little while longer. Back up is coming. Gil will find them in time.

She stopped waiting on someone to save her a long time ago.

“Close your eyes Sunshine. I’ll be ok.” She smiles sadly before standing to face the man. He raises his eyebrows waiting impatiently for the answer. She swallows heavily, thinking for only a moment. Whenever she picked herself the other would die. But this isn’t between her and Dr. Garcia. This was Dr. Garcia or Malcolm. She will not take the risk that the rules will change again. “Kill Dr. Garcia.” Malcolm begins screaming and thrashing again but she’s just out of his limited reach. The smile cracks across the killers face as she stares down the barrel of the pistol.

“Thank you for coming to your senses.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gil races as fast as the car can go. He blows through every traffic light without even looking as the red and blue lights race through the darkened roads. He’s close, they just need to hold out a little longer. Jessica had went in without protection, without Dani. If she were to alert that Jessica wasn’t alone. It could mean the deaths of everyone in that warehouse.

The metal structure looms in the shadows, it feels bigger than it actually is. The sharp edges threaten to collapse with his worst fears as he climbs out backed by JT and Agent Collette arriving shortly after him. He spies Dani’s car but there’s no sight of her. It’s possible she’s already inside. At least that’s what he tells himself to alleviate the pain in his chest.

And then a shot breaks through the crisp air sending his world crashing down with it.

#prodigal son #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gilssica #gilica #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #malcolm bright #kidnapped au #prodigal son AU #notgonnarememberthis fics #find your way (back to me)#find your way (back to me) chapter 14 #fanfic #em: stop hurting malcolm me: no <3 #can yall find the callbacks

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

What Dogs See - fic

Characters: Titus, Krypto, Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, bits of others Summary: Dogs see more than we think they do. A/N: A gift for @mayleebaby28! Thank you for being such a supportive, unconditional and kind human being! I hope everything is going well for you and yours and know you are so loved and appreciated, especially by those furbabies. Also sorry if this is jumbly and not good, ugh! You deserve better D:

From the second he saw him, Titus loved him.

The man had talked to him on their way to the house. Warned him.

“He’s a little…prickly.” The man said with a chuckle. “An attitude that…I still don’t know how it fits in his little body.” He sighed. “But…he’s good, deep down. I know he is.” Then almost bitterly. “Dick tells me he is. I wish…” Now a sigh. “Why can’t I see what Dick has?”

But when he saw the boy, in a big dark, cold place, scowling and alone, wearing silly clothes, he knew.

This was his boy.

His to love, his to protect. His forever.

The boy – Damian – scoffed when the man presented him. Said something about being indifferent, barely looked at him.

But then Titus followed the boy up to his bedroom. Watched as he prepared for sleep and laid down. Without any command, or the boy even looking at him, Titus walked silently over to the bed, and laid his head on the mattress.

Damian was facing away from him, but Titus waited. Only huffed a breath once.

I know what you’re doing. I’ll wait as long as I have to.

But eventually Damian rolled towards him, and let those silent tears Titus already sensed drop freely. Titus licked at his face, licked those tears away, and just rested his head on Damian’s when the boy hugged his neck tightly.

Yes. This boy was his.

Krypto met Jon when he was born. He was in the room. He helped Kal-El tend to his wife, tend to his baby.

And when it all settled, when Lois was asleep, and the baby was clean, Krypto just couldn’t stop staring.

This child was beautiful.

A perfect mixture of his parents, of a human and a Kryptonian. Of two worlds, two universes.

The baby squealed in amusement as he tugged absently at Krypto’s ear, and Krypto felt like it was the most important moment in the history of every universe ever created.

He would protect this child. This miracle. But not for Kal-El, not even for the memory of Krypton.

For himself.

Kal-El muttered apologies as he removed the newborn’s fingers from Krypto’s ear, and he almost whined at the loss. Instead, he trailed after the father, watched as he put the baby in a crib, and then curled around its base. Even when Kal-El called to him a while later for some food, Krypto ignored him.

His watch started now.

Damian was his life, to the point he didn’t care to learn about any of the other humans around. He recognized them of course, but beyond that could not care less.

So it was frustrating, when sometimes Damian went places that he couldn’t go. He’d pat Titus’s head, sneak a kiss when the one he called Father, or Batman, wasn’t looking then chase after the man like a shadow.

It was even more frustrating when Damian would return covered in blood or bruises, or unconscious and being carried by that man.

Titus hated it, hated the man for it, actually. Growled at him when he returned with Damian in this state. At least until he realized it wasn’t the man causing his Damian pain, and that he was just upset as Titus was about the predicament.

He also learned over time that his boy only seemed to come home injured when he put on the heavy, bright fabric. So, one day, when the man and Damian were resting, Titus went through those lockers, sniffed out his boy’s uniform, and ripped it to shreds in his teeth.

Damian wasn’t happy with him when he discovered what Titus had done. But Titus noticed a smirk of satisfaction on both the Batman’s face, and the old man with the mustache.

These terrible moments had a small upside, though. When Damian was injured, the mustached man always demanded he rested for a long time. Tucked him into bed and forced him to stay there. During these long times, Titus lounged next to his boy, head on his leg and Damian’s fingers scratching at his ears.

Quiet and safe and with his boy. Sometimes the men joined them, sometimes not. Sometimes Damian used Titus as a pillow, and sometimes Titus would curl around him like a barrier between him in the world.

He just wished these times came when his boy wasn’t hurting, too.

He’d seen the universe. He knew the galaxies – many of them – and all the beautiful, wild secrets they held.

But nothing was as magical, or as breathtaking, as Jon discovering something new.

The way his face lit up the first time he saw a butterfly. His laugh the first time he jumped in a puddle. His gasp the first time he saw blue and yellow paints mix to create green.

It was the most amazing sight, every time. No matter how many times it happened over the years.

And when Jon discovered his powers, his heritage – Krypto was sure that there were literal stars in that boy’s eyes. He hooted and hollered, jumped into the sky and did a lap around the barn’s roof.

But when Jon swooped back down, tried to take Krypto on this first flight, Krypto took the chance to give Jon another first.

Before Jon could grab him, Krypto jumped into the air himself, swirling and spinning playfully away. He watched with a grin of his own as Jon’s violet eyes widened, and slowly, a gap-tooth smile spread across his cheeks.

“My dog can fly!”

Jon immediately flew after him, and they began a skyward game of tag. Jon laughed the whole time, and it was absolute music to Krypto’s ears.

To think – Kal-El was once the last of Krypton. The last hope of an entire race. An entire planet. An entire universe, light-years away.

And now, here’s Jon too.

Learning and growing and the best of them all, here was Jon too.

His boy was strong. Cunning. Genius. A warrior.

But that was not Titus’s favorite part of Damian. His favorite part of his boy was how kind he was. How thoughtful. How he looked at the world around him like everything was new, smiled when he found something beautiful. How he tried to recreate it in his drawings and in his music.

His least favorite part, though, was how much his boy hated himself. And he knew that. He knew that from the day he met him. So he always stayed close. Gave Damian all the kisses, love and protection he could, every time he saw him. Every time he could.

But it wasn’t enough, and sometimes that hurt. He could see it, when Damian separated himself from his family when they were all together. How he blamed himself for things that were not his fault. But worst of all, how he didn’t feel worth anything, or deserve anything.

Like the nights he came back in that colorful costume alone, limping and bleeding. How Titus would try to lick his wounds and Damian would shove him away. How the old mustache man would offer the same, and Damian would snap sharp words at him instead. All but crawl to his bedroom and close the door even to Titus, and allow himself to suffer in silence. Suffer alone.

Or the times Titus would see the man yelling at him. Scolding him. And maybe sometimes it was deserved. Titus would see the mustached old man nodding when it was. But other times it wasn’t, and the mustached old man would furrow his brows and hold his hand over his mouth.

But even if it wasn’t deserved, Damian would not fight back. Not like he was capable of. He might have a little attitude here and there, but generally allow the hateful words to wash over him. Allowed himself to believe them.

The moments with the one frequently called Tim were bad. They would yell at each other, and insult with a purpose. Sometimes it would come to blows, and Titus would do all he could to separate them. Pull Damian back by his clothes. Growl at Tim until the other backed away with his hands raised in surrender.

And then when everything settled down, Damian would retreat. To a corner or the cave, to his bedroom, sometimes down a wandering path around the manor. And he’d repeat what Tim said to him. Repeat it and lament about how correct his brother was in his awful assessment.

It broke Titus’s heart. If only Damian could see how wonderful he was. How lovely. He deserved nothing but kindness, and Titus still did not understand why he did not get it from everyone around him. Why he did not see how much he deserved it.

But his boy could not understand his barks or whines. Just whispered “It’s okay, boy. Everything’s okay,” even when it so clearly absolutely wasn’t. So Titus did the only thing he could. Followed Damian when he tried to disappear, and stayed at his side when no one else would.

Maybe that was why Titus knew how kind this child was, because Damian only seemed to allow himself to be when no one else was around. When no one could see it. Maybe that’s why he always snuck off to be by himself. It was the only time he thought he could be himself.

You are not alone. You can be yourself. Titus would say loudly in his head, hoping against hope that maybe somehow his boy could hear him, or sense his words.

You are not alone, and you are loved.

Krypto would do anything for Jon. Anything.

He’d destroy worlds for him. He’d change the climate. He’d tear another being limb from limb if they so much as looked at him wrong.

But he realized, over the years, that there was one thing he couldn’t fix. One thing he couldn’t do.

Jon was lonely. Krypto couldn’t fix that.

Jon was a good kid – a nice kid. Too nice, some said. Too naive. And instead of those traits flocking the people to him like, in Krypto’s opinion, it should – it brought out the bullies instead. Got him teased and mocked, and shoved into lockers.

And Jon tried to handle it on his own, he did. He’d take a deep breath, fix his glasses and smile. That’d just get him teased more.

On most days Jon could shrug it off. But not all. There were some days he’d come home and go straight to his room and cry. Other days he wouldn’t make it into the house at all. He’d hit their long driveway, or just pass the barn. Krypto would bark a hello, and Jon would hide his face in Krypto’s fur and collapse into tears.

He never believed the hateful words. Of course not, Clark and Lois raised him to be smarter than that. But he had no one else to lift him up. No one else to hold him in these darker moments. And this wasn’t something he could talk to his father about. His father was Superman - what kind of loser would that make him look like?

So he suffered alone, sometimes in silence.

And oh, Krypto tried. Would like Jon’s face raw if he could.

Even if you have no one else, you have me. You will always have me.

Jon never heard him, of course. For all the brilliance of his powers, animal translation was not one of them.

So Krypto did was he could – which here, was not much. No amount of laser vision or super strength would do anyone any good. So he’d whine a little, in solidarity with his cub, and laid with him until the tears dried, or his boy was able to smile again. Let himself be a pillow, a teddy bear, or just a plain shoulder to cry on if he needed to be.

You will always have me, he’d always try. Maybe one day Jon would hear him. Maybe one day Jon would know.

Always.

They were meeting someone new today, and Titus was shocked when the man said that Damian could bring him along. Damian seemed to be too, and the smile remained on his face until they jumped into the car and took off.

The drive was long, and took them out into the countryside somewhere. Titus didn’t mind. He spent the whole time sitting with Damian in the front seat, making him laugh and getting his ears scratched by Damian and the man both.

It was nice.

They arrived at what looked like a farmhouse, and immediately, Titus smelled something interesting. He hopped out of the car and immediately went on alert, wrapping around Damian’s legs. Damian just snorted, and pet his head again.

Suddenly, the door to the farmhouse slammed open, and a large man appeared. He greeted them as he walked down the steps, followed by a woman and child, and then another dog.

Krypto locked eyes with Titus immediately, and a silent truce was formed. Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours.

Titus remained wrapped around Damian, even as Krypto did the same for Jon. Titus hadn’t paid that boy any mind, not until the woman pulled him forward and introduced him to Damian.

His first thought was: This boy is so sad.

Krypto watched Damian with the same intensity, and took in his posture, his crossed arms, his gaze off to the side of the conversation at hand.

His first thought was: This boy doesn’t like himself.

After the introductions, the adults moved towards the house, leaving the two children alone. So Krypto and Titus stayed with them too.

The boys stood staring at each other, but the dogs approached, sniffing.

“Why does your boy not like himself?” Krypto asked immediately.

“He does not believe he is good enough, that what at, I’m not sure. And he has no one in his life to tell him differently. Though I suppose they don’t realize they need to.” Titus explained. “Why is your boy so sad?”

“He does not have many friends, probably because he has to keep many secrets from the children around him. He struggles to cope with the loneliness sometimes.” Krypto glanced up to Damian and Jon, when Jon sounded like he raised his voice. “…They do not appear to like each other.”

Titus looked back, gave a small scolding yip towards Damian. Damian didn’t seem to hear him. “They don’t.” He looked back to Krypto. “But you know?”

“Hm?”

He looked back at the boys. “I have a good feeling.”

“Funnily enough, so do I.” Krypto agreed. “I just…get the sense this may be the best thing to ever happen to either of them.”

“Perhaps,” Titus thought out loud. “Perhaps with each other, maybe they won’t be so sad and lonely anymore.”

“We can only hope.” Krypto nodded. “Our boys deserve better than that.”

“That they do.” Titus hummed. Jon and Damian appeared to be mid-argument, so Titus barked loudly, making them both jump.

They went quiet as they looked towards their dogs. Damian narrowed his eyes in warning to Titus, but then glanced at Krypto. “…Your dog is beautiful. What breed is he?”

“Uh…a mutt I think.” Jon mumbled sheepishly. “Do you know yours?”

“Le Grand Danois.” Damian said proudly. Jon just stared. “…A Great Dane.”

“Cool.” Jon smiled. “…Can I pet him?”

“I suppose.” Damian sighed. “Only if I’m allowed to pet yours.”

“Sure! Krypto loves belly rubs.” Jon exclaimed. “Don’t you, boy?”

Krypto barked and flopped over. Damian laughed softly as he rubbed his hand over his ribs. Titus graciously accepted Jon’s chin scratches.

As the boys pet the other’s dog, their conversation picked back up. Not into argument this time, but rather a simple conversation about dog toys.

Jon rambled slightly, seemingly thrilled to actually have someone to talk to. Damian smiled as he spoke too, not trying to hide his true, gentler nature.

The dogs looked at each other and grinned.

They finally found exactly what – and who – their boys needed.

#Damian Wayne #jon kent #Titus #krypto #mayleebaby28

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sterys · 3 years

Text

Behind the Beskar

Genre: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Cross-posted on AO3

Behind the Beskar

You’d just joined the Guild and this was your first job.

You were living on borrowed money in a seedy little flat in the one of the worst neighbourhood of Nevarro. You had to pay the rent (not cheap), the electricity (cheaper), the running water (hot water was included, thank hot lava planet), the speeder repairs, the monthly salary to your elderly parents’ maid who helped them through old age, a system away from you.

You used to lend your accountancy skills to Governors from outer regions, help them manage their bases and finances. Now, with the Empire fallen, you struggled to make ends meet. The Rebel alliance had centralized every financial operation, scattered the old consolidation team and you were made redundant at the young age of twenty-seven.

Every accountant and financial controller working under the Empire had been found guilty of financial fraud and theft by the Rebels right after the Battle of Endor, so you had hastily embarked on a ship to leave the Core Worlds and never return.

In Nevarro, nobody cared about where you came from, or what you did for a living, as long as you had credits, and the wits to keep them with you at all times when on trips to the cantina. You were able to sustain the lifestyle for a month, but one day you woke up feeling so cold that you thought your toes would fall off your feet, stomach rumbling loudly, and you decided that enough was enough.

You went straight back to the cantina, barely paying attention to your surroundings. You were intent on paying off this debt. Everything went smoothly enough, considering that it was obvious that the man from the Guild expected you to die on your first mission, and you could only agree with him, but fuck, this was a ride-or-die situation. Nobody wanted to hire a former Empire accountant. Things would have been different, were you a trooper or a starfighter pilot, because people always needed those skills. But you had spent the last five years forgetting both honesty and the Full Disclosure principle, so that did not go well in your CV. Fuck the Empire and their margin-reducing Death Stars.

You chose the best-paying job, not out of talent, but out of necessity. You returned home, burying yourself under the woollen covers, puck in one hand and the city’s last year financial records printed out on yellowed paper in the other. You stifled a yawn, looking lazily at the pages.

Something was wrong here with the numbers, and you bet it had everything to do with your new bounty.

The Guild guy had explained that somebody stole something from somewhere in the city, which was not great intel, but this somebody had a contact inside the townhall, which was intel. As soon as the theft had been discovered, the contact had disappeared from the surface of the planet, but rumour had it that he was just low-profile for the moment. He was said to carry three blasters with him at all time and use two akimbo.

Sure, you didn’t have the weapons or the military background other people in the Guild had; but you had your wits and an eye for spotting anomalies in figures. Years of camouflaging fraud had taught you how to spot one very quickly – and yes! Here it was, the gap between income and cash flow. Somebody here was getting some hidden cash from the city’s council as there was no way they could still buy Empire stock with simple credit coins or chips after the fall of the Empire.

Financial records were a mine of information if you knew what to look for. You compared the statements – yes, a new building had also been bought at the beginning of the standard year, roughly at the same time as the strange disappearance of Mr. Bounty. And you happened to know where this building was. You lived in it. No wonder the rent was so high!

You emerged from the covers satisfied with your studies. But you had yet to devise a plan to eject the tenant under your feet while not crashing your own little flat. Maybe you could try from the sewers under? You could pretend to take out the bin tonight and –

Crack!

The bedroom door flew out of its hinges in a cloud of black smoke. Coughing loudly, eyes closed, you plunged to the floor, cursing your bad luck. How could your neighbour possibly know that you’d chosen his puck? You crawled under the bed while the smoke dissipated, hugging the puck and the soundproof bag containing the fob. The fob! – it was pulsing red, but no more than before. How odd, you thought, that someone would give me a faulty fob that doesn’t work even though the bounty’s boots are three inches from my face.

Heavy brown boots did in fact stood just before your eyes. You pressed a hand to your mouth, feeling sweat running down your back.

The boots shuffled on the dusty floor. You held your breath. Suddenly the bed above you disappeared, then came crashing down on the window. The room became dark, the mattress hiding the morning sunlight.

You lifted your face, head buzzing with panic. And then you saw him. You couldn’t miss him, really. The tall Mandalorian in a battered armour and shiny helmet. He towered over you, and despite you lying on the floor and having a very distorted perspective, you could tell that he was huge.

Fob glowing an angry red in one hand, and a blaster pointed at you in the other, he was a dangerous man. Before your eyes, around his calves, were enormous bullets that could only fit the rifle strapped in his back. You could tell he was a true fighter by the state of his chest plate: old, the paint wearing off, bullet cavities marring the surface. Something was not right, you decided, observing his strong shoulders. You read in his stance that he was an adept at hand combat. Hand, mid-range blaster and heavy sniper rifle. He looked down at you. One gloved hand was stained with blaster residue. The other glove was clean – or at least as clean as orange could be on a rocky planet.

“I can bring you in warm –“

“Wait!” you cried out. “You are not the bounty I’m looking for.”

This man obviously used only one blaster, not two. You could almost see the cogs turn in his brain when you saw his T-shaped visor gazing at the general direction of your own fob.

“Who are you?” His voice was raspy.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” you replied, your voice shaking a little. Admittedly, you hadn’t done a lot of bounty hunting yet but it did sound better than accountant.

He didn’t answer but you heard a small huff of static.

“I believe the bounty is the tenant living one floor under me,” you said hesitantly.

Immediately, he turned on his heels and ran out the room, leaving you aghast. You heard his surprisingly soft footsteps going down the stairs and the sound of a door being blasted off.

You sat down, heart pounding in your chest. Wow. Chances were that you’d never be able to live here again. Better flee now than miss the chance of escaping the kriffin building. You grabbed your ID, clean underwear, a big brown cloak, a bottle of water and the implant. You put on the combat boots one deputy statutory auditor had gifted to you before being murdered by the one and only Lord Vader, and set off to the stairs.

You put your foot on the first step timidly. Bang. The unmistakeable sound of blaster fire. Smoke rose in the air as it became acrid and hard to breathe.

That’s when you panicked. You turned around and ran towards the window, pushing aside the lumpy mattress and curling your fingers into a punch. Then you hit the glass as hard as you could. It came down crashing down, shards falling everywhere. You held your breath. You jumped.

You landed. You landed bad, and it hurt. Oh, kriff. You’d fortunately landed on your feet but lost your balance and your right ankle ached a little. It would probably swell up in the next couple of minutes but for the moment you needed to get out of here pretty fast.

Your stuff had fallen off your bag when you’d landed in the dirt-filled back alley. You quickly gathered your clothes, put the dust bag over your shoulder and half walked, half ran to the freeport, wincing at every step you took.

The buildings were blurry, and you could only see the shadows of the people you passed by. Was it a concussion? You ran a hand through your hair, half expecting to see blood, but you only gathered dust on your fingers. The pain in your ankle had risen during your walk, and by the time you were on the main road you were limping pitifully.

You reached the cantina for the second time in one day. This was both the point of no-return and the place where everything had begun. There were tears in your eyes, tears for this city that you’d have to leave so suddenly after grinding so hard. You were never happy here, you never made it and you struggled till the very end. On your left you saw the stand where an old man sold coarse fabrics; you’d purchased a few to repair your own clothes in the direst times. You recognized the woman brushing her hair through the top window of that one dirty, dusty building: she’d helped you find a place to sleep on your first day here.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. Shivering, you turned around. The Mandalorian was standing just behind you. You looked at him through your tears, understanding the hurry in his stance. He didn’t say anything, but you grabbed your bag and followed his long strides in the darker alleys to the space port.

Your ankle hurt but you kept running. You kept your head low, not wanting to be recognized by another Guild member. This was your first bounty, and you’d already colluded with a fellow hunter. You weren’t so sure if this was legal or not, and you were not eager to find out.

In any case, the closer to the space port you were, the better it was for your skin. You needed to lie low for a while; people here noticed blaster shots easily and you didn’t want your name to be linked with a bounty.

Your throat was burning from volcanic dust and pain flared in your ankle at every step, but you carried on. Everything was still blurry but you could see the Mandalorian keeping a steady pace a few steps before you. He never turned away to make sure you were still following, but you guessed he could hear your laboured breathing from where he was.

Now the next steps were: finding a ship that left soon, not do anything for a moment, then… Now was not the time to think about a potential “then”.

His ship was a military cargo ship, made to carry soldiers in remote outposts during the war. It was battered from battle and dusty from whatever planet it had been to before. You hesitated for a second.

“Is this where we part ways?” you asked, your voice wavering.

“Do you need transport out of here?” The Mandalorian asked gruffly.

When it became clear to him that you did, he ushered you inside and rushed to close the ramp.

You stopped to look around. That was when you realized that the Mandalorian was carrying a big black body bag on his shoulder, and he was heaving a little from the weight.

He threw the body on the ground then retrieved a pair of handcuffs from somewhere inside the metal wall. Intrigued, you looked closer. There was a strange system of metal chains suspended from the top of the wall that ended in two hooks. You understood their purpose when Mando attached the hooks to the handcuffs and pulled a lever, raising the body to eye level.

The bounty was a middle-aged human man, black haired, smartly dressed for Nevarro. His head was hanging, lip split open, and a nasty bruise was spreading on his right eyelid.

“Dead?” You murmured, a little frightened.

“No,” the Mandalorian answered. “Get back.”

You scrambled back to the end of the ship, clutching your tightly. Sharp lighting reflecting on the beskar helmet, the Mandalorian looked very in the small hull of this ship.

His movements precise, he clicked a few buttons on the control panel and suddenly the body was frozen in carbonite.

You let out the breath you just realized you had been holding. You shivered a little.

“Better get used to it,” the Mandalorian said, making his way to the cockpit.

You followed him quietly, strapping yourself in the passenger seat when he told you to. You closed your eyes as you felt the engines roar and the ship soar into the grey sky, the heavy clouds, then the blackness of the galaxy. You were afraid, but there was also a strange feeling of excitement coursing through your veins. The Nevarro days were behind you.

You woke up, feeling blindly around you. Judging by the absence of light in the ship, it was still the middle of the night on Scarif. Also judging by the soreness of your muscles, you’d only managed to sleep for a couple of hours before the clamp soup you’d swallowed with abandon the evening before had reached your bladder.

Leaving the (relative) comfort of your covers, you got up, reaching towards the nearest wall to support yourself. Tiptoeing around, you tried to make as little sound as possible. You stifled a yawn, almost lost your balance, and cursed loudly. So much for quietness.

After half a dozen more yawns, another string of curses and a bruised toe (you’d unfortunately collided with what felt like an enormous durasteel wall plate) you found your way to the ‘fresher. You relieved yourself and washed your hands – they looked so thin; you really could use some more food – then stepped out of the unit.

That was when you heard it.

A very male groan followed by heaving breathing that did nothing to cover the distinctive sound of flesh on flesh.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

You’d forgotten to shut off the ‘fresher light. It was a flickering old light that made your face look like it had been out of the sun for two decades, but it was enough to show you that the enormous durasteel wall plate you’d stumbled into was in fact a thigh guard. And said thigh guard was still attached to its wearer but was not protecting anything except Mando’s ankles.

He was holding himself in one hand, helmet still on. You stuttered:

“Wow. Errm, I mean – I’m sorry.”

Not waiting for an answer, you took a step backward, closed your eyes and made a hasty retreat.

You lay in the cot, waiting to fall back asleep. You’d felt so tired just seconds before and now sleep was eluding you. The image was seared in your brain.

It had been long since you’d had a good fuck. You’d been building up so much financial stress that you hadn’t even found your release by yourself in months. You guessed it was all backfiring now. Remembering the sinful sounds Mando had made, you felt a heat coiling deep inside you.

You risked a hand between your legs. Okay, you had a problem there. You were wet. Not just damp. You were soaking through your underwear. You brought your fingers to you nose; they had the definite smell of sex.

Would you be able to finally pleasure yourself on a stranger’s ship far away from Nevarro?

You wanted it so badly. You were burning up, pressing your thighs together to relieve the pressure. But the thing was, the owner of this spaceship had lent you his cot. People did not get off in other people’s bed, that was your implicit rule of hospitality. Especially not when you knew you’d make a mess with how wet you were.

Just a touch, you decided. A quick rub of your lady parts would not do wrong, right? You leaned backwards until your back was pressed against the metal wall and you slid a hand under your sleep pants, circling the tender area with the tip of your fingers.

You still saw Mando under your closed eyes. You tried to focus on your past adventures but Mando’s helmet kept coming back until it was him you imagined riding on your small bed back in Nevarro, making the erotic sounds you’d heard tonight. You let out an unvoluntary moan. You couldn’t stop now, you felt your whole body tingling and burning, you began to see stars, white stars, everything was brighter –

Your eyes flew open at the brightly lit torch brandished towards your face from the end of the cot. Fuck fuck fuck. In your haste to flee, you’d forgotten to close down the hatch and now Mando himself was standing still, looking directly at you, the torch in his left hand.

He was not moving but you swore he looked amused. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die, and at the same time you felt incredibly wanton and powerful with your legs spread apart and the glow you knew was on your face.

“I heard my name,” Mando whispered.

His voice was hoarse and heavy, and you felt your insides clench at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. The air between you was thick.

“Don’t be,” he replied. Then he looked at you, looking like he was debating something internally. “May I?”

The pronounced static of his breathing, the expectant posture – you felt your head buzzing at the implication. It meant one thing.

“Yes.” Your voice was breathy, but you didn’t care.

The two of you were too big for the bunk, especially since Mando still had his full armour on, but you didn’t mind the way his body pressed against yours in all pleasant ways.

“Let me,” he groaned, once he was fully inside the bunk, …

You stilled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. Slowly, so slowly, he placed his right hand in your inner thigh, fingers hovering over the soft skin. Every place he touched you, you burned.

You reached to grasp the helmet but he caught your hand, staring hard into your eyes. You resolved to closing your eyes and slide your hand under the fabric of his shirt, smiling when you caressed the warmth underneath.

So there were taut muscles and soft skin behind the shiny beskar.

You’d lost your way in the numbers and figures, it seemed, in the cold facts of mathematics and the harsh reality of financial fraud. All those years alone had not been easy and you’d forgotten what it was like to be held by a soulful touch. You could almost cry. The night was tender and warm and you felt like melting into Mando while he melted into you, two lives meeting in the corner of the universe, on a planet graced by tragedies and hope alike.

There was no undressing for him. He’d made it clear that the helmet would stay on, and neither of you bothered to remove the rest of his clothes. He sighed deeply when you bit the fingers of his gloves and removed them with your teeth, revealing two hands that looked and felt sun-kissed.

You lazily removed your sleep clothes, keeping your eyes fixed on the helmet, and it felt like your gaze was locked with his even though you couldn’t see behind the black visor. You threw your underwear in a bundle, the fire in your body urging you to feel him ever closer. The plates of metal poked into your skin, cold and unforgiving but you couldn’t care less. If this was the price to pay to keep him close, then you’d willingly pay it.

The rush of the cocktail of hormones felt like drugs in your foggy brain. You were in the middle of draping your left leg over his waist when all movement slowed and stopped. Time was suspended; only the heavy static behind the beskar helmet and your own wrecked breath cut the silence and the electricity buzz of the landed spaceship.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you. You knew you wanted to press your mouth against his and taste his lips. But you knew it couldn’t happen. He knew it too. There was a shimmer of hope, then it died down as your leg finished its graceful arch in the air and you settled yourself over him, hot and heavy under your hips.

You felt the desire in your veins, and there was raw longing in the way he murmured your name over and over again while he buried himself inside you.

Maybe the last few years had been harsh and loveless for you, but it seemed that Mando had decided to make it all up on his own. Why you would at last find true passion in the hands of a seasoned bounty hunter, you didn’t know. You couldn’t contain your wanton moaning, lost in the haze of the moment. If he was as fierce in battle as he was in his love - and it looked like he was -, then you would not be able to fight back if he demanded your heart. You would gladly surrender right there, right now…

You felt the sweat gathering on your face. There was urgency in your movements, and you felt your own muscles tightening deliciously.

Cyar’ika, cyar’ika, cyar’ika…

Mando whispered the words into your shoulders as you felt his body tense under yours.

You couldn’t understand them, yet you couldn’t miss the depth of their meaning. You pressed a thousand kisses on his helmet, cradling him in your arms, rocking quicker as you readied yourself for him to shatter and explode into your embrace. Cyar’ika, cyar’ika…

You couldn’t understand these words, but I could.

You and I were chatting amiably in the cantina of some random planet he happened to have a bounty on. I could tell that the flush on your face was caused by both the cocktail swirling in your glass and the feelings you so obviously had towards the beskar-clad warrior.

Maybe it was the need for female company. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system. Maybe you thought you found a friend in me. But you poured your heart out to me, maybe hoping I would somehow understand your feelings and encourage you to act on them.

I didn’t tell you that I last travelled with the Mandalorian of your story a little more than six months ago. I couldn’t bring myself to it.

You didn’t understand the pet names he gave you, but I did, because he’d called me this way too.

I’d done everything you did.

I’d met the Mandalorian a different way, him looking for a doctor for a festered wound that did not heal. His desperate sighs when I applied bacta patches beneath the armour had compelled me to stay on his ship.

I’d laughed and cried and moaned on the Crest just like you. I’d been under crossfire more than once, I’d tended to his wounds, I’d made the calculations to jump to hyperspace while he was asleep, tired from a day of bounty-hunting and a night of love-making.

We’d spent hours discovering each other’s bodies while the Crest floated somewhere between the stars. I’d seen the heavens, shuddering beneath him, breathy sighs saturating the air. I’d waited for him to come back every day, touching myself on the pilot’s seat and wishing for the comfort of his strong arms.

But life on the Razor Crest was too lonely for me. After a while, I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I needed company, friends to share a meal with. I missed evenings with my family, cooking together our trademark roast chicken recipe inherited from my maternal grandmother. I missed the silly games we played with my little cousins; our faces distorted in grimaces as we imitated HoloNet celebrities. I also missed my friends’ laughs, my first crush’s hazel eyes, my best friend’s freckled face. My home planet was only a short hyperspace drive from here, yet it felt like I was worlds and worlds away.

Behind the shiny beskar and the hard muscles, I could only see a lifetime of worry and loneliness. How in the galaxy could I ever belong there, in that tin can in the middle of nothingness? I needed the warmth of the sun, the smell of the earth and the promise of a happy life.

So I’d left before I could fall in love and get hurt. I gave him back the pendant you now wore between your breasts. I’d tried to ignore the way his shoulders hunched as I packed my bag. I left without looking back, my chin held high, half hoping he’d notice the tears on my face and beg me to come back.

You looked happy; he deserved you. You picked up your watch and I read the surprise on your face. “Already? I have to go, he’s picking me up here and we leave in a half-hour.” You packed your bags hurriedly, the flush lingering on your cheeks and I smiled at your apologies for leaving so soon. You thanked me profusely for my quiet companionship.

Then I heard it clearly. The velvety voice from my memories, the deep “Let’s go”, the clanking of the armour. It seemed that my body had not forgotten either and I felt myself uncomfortably pressing my thighs together. The memories started to flood my mind because I remembered everything and now I realized how much I missed –

How happy I –

How passionate he –

But this was a path I’d chosen not to take.

#the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #fanfiction #romance #angst #star wars #read and review #read and enjoy #din djarin x oc #x reader

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Rookie |2|- Dabi x Reader

Omg guys! The amount of love I got for Part 1 makes me- ugh- just- THANK YOU! You guys make my day! I tagged as many of you guys as I could who asked for a Part 2, and also- we hit 400 lovely followers! YAY! I love all of you so much! <3

Dabi x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count:

Warnings: cussings, and again Dabi is ThIrStY

Summary: You had just come from school at UA, excited to finally spend another blissful evening with your new found friends, the LOV. But unknowing to you, Dabi has other plans for your night.

PARTS: |1| |2| |3|

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

You sighed, watching the clock move at an agonizing pace. Couldn’t this class go any faster?

You hated this room, this school, these people around you, especially the teachers that tried so desperately to turn you into something you weren’t….

You checked the time again, and felt disappointment bubble in your stomach for what seemed like the 100th time: All you wanted was to meet up with the villains. They liked you. They accepted you for who you were, quirk and all. They may be dangerous and cruel at times, but who was to say that you weren’t the same way? You watched out for yourself: they just did the same thing.

After that very rough introduction between you and Shigaraki a few weeks prior, he had realized you had been serious about your intentions. All your information about Izuku was correct- what classes he took, what train route he would be on in the morning, where he would usually be at after school, his best friends, his worst enemies….every and any thing Shigaraki needed to know you had in that amazingly beautiful brain of yours. To Shigaraki, you were this blessing in disguise that he had been dreaming for for so long.

-----------------------------

You and Shigaraki were sitting at the bar, his piles of ideas for missions scattered across the top like a detective’s work table..

“So,” Shiagaraki drawled out, “what is this information you have for me?”

You sucked in a deep breath, allowing your mind to calm itself, to will yourself to remember every piece of information you had accumulated over the past few weeks.

“I’ve been watching Izuku for a while now,” you explained, “Since that attack on Class 1-A you created, I noticed how he always seemed to have some sort of run-in with you...so thats when I’ve been tracking him a bit. Keeping tabs: Where he lives, what train he takes, his friends, his enemies, his hobbies, his powers, his weaknesses…” you looked down at your drink, letting your words set in.

The more you talked the more Shigaraki got visibly excited- all this information, finally at his fingertips! He smiled a craggly grin, perking up his head at the word weaknesses.

Dabi leaned across the wall in the adjacent hallway, invisible to you or Shigaraki. He looked at the hunched backs at the counter, listening in to your conversation. That pretty little face of yours faced Shigaraki, your shoulders all too close to him for Dabi’s comfort. He knew a pretty little thing like you wouldn't want anything to do with that dried out mummy of a man, but he couldn't help but feel some sort of angry possession over you. A pang of jealousy erupted in his chest, wishing he was the one sitting next to you.

“That’s not all I know.” You sighed, “UA is doing some...training camp in the summer. Only for the students, and at some secret location- so its very under wraps.”

“You think you can get us inside the camp then?”

You scoffed. “If I didn't think I could, why would I tell you?” You laid back in your chair. “Yeah, I can do it.”

Shigaraki smiled so wide it looked like a grimace, the dried skin looking hideously strecthed under the hazy lights.

“If this works out Demon, we may just have an open spot for you on our team.”

Dabi’s heart unexpectedly skipped a beat, a rare grin spreading across his scarred lips.

-----------------------------

The final bell rang, your eyes wide with excitement as you flew out the room as your teacher tried desperately to remind the class of some quiz the next day. You rolled your eyes. You didn't bother with school anymore: if you joined the League, what was the need of it? You’d be more than fine by yourself. You could give two damn’s now if you passed your classes: you just wanted out of this place.

You finally came upon the grand entrance of UA, pushing out the door with the rest of the student body. It was amazing outside- the sky was a fiery orange, red’s and yellow’s dancing in the sky as the sunset’s glow illuminated everything in its golden rays. You smiled, feeling the power of your quirk pulse excitedly in your veins, your hand tingling slightly, a memory flitting into your mind.

-----------------------------

You had just come from school, taking time to hang out with your new friends- the League. They had seemed to have been taking a liking to you, Toga loving having a new girl counterpart, Shigaraki now welcoming you with much less hostility after learning your importance, Twice seeming to forgive you for spraining his wrist, and Dabi- well- Dabi was a character.

He was unpredictable, merciless, and cold yet...warm at the same time. He wasn’t afraid to play dirty, or be dirty, for that matter. He had countless times thrown you smug stares that made the heat in your face rise, or sexual innuendos that would make your whole body shiver. He wasn’t a clean man, Dabi, but hell was he attractive.

“So Demon,” Dabi asked, sprawled on the couch with you, “what exactly is your quirk?”

“Yeah, I wanna know!” Toga yelled out as she clutched her face, her eyes wide with hungry anticipation.

“Really? I haven't told you guys? I'm surprised!” you laughed, racking your brain to see if you had shown them. You surprised yourself- you had been around the League for two whole weeks now, and couldn't remember once showing them your quirk.

You rose from the couch slightly, Dabi feeling the weight leave from where he was sitting, missing the feeling of your body close to his own.

“Well….it’d be easier if I just showed you instead of telling,” you replied nonchalantly.

Dabi watched you with gleaming eyes, his eyes eating at you with the hopeful, slightly seductive look he always seemed to give you, a small grin on his face. You were wearing the same type of outfit when you first arrived to the group- black sweatshirt and matching black sweatpants. He had not once seen you without it; when he confronted you about it, you had blushed all so adorably he wanted to practically eat you up right then and there.

Your main reason was that you met with the villains after school, and you would throw these clothes over so no one could see you walking to the villians in your UA uniform. So, now, as you reached down and pulled to lift the thick fabric of your sweatshirt, Dabi couldn't help but feel excitement erupt in his stomach

His heart beat pulsed sharply, watching those delicate arms of yours become- finally- exposed, his breath hitching. You were wearing a simple black tank top, the curves of your body tightly contained. Your unmarked skin glistened in the light, making Dabi’s mouth water. He drank in everything about you: how your shoulder muscles protruded from your skin, each dimple and spot on your arms, the way your hair cascaded around your body and face oh so perfectly. Dabi noticed the delicate chain necklace resting on your throat, the tiny pendant fitted perfectly between the ridges of your collarbones. Something about that necklace drove him wild inside, imagining how it would feel to twist that little chain in between his slender fingers as you moaned out his name, him trailing kisses down that sweet soft skin of your chest. He licked his lips, trying not to get too overwhelmed as he followed the trail from your strap down to bust, the slight cleavage make him frustratedly hot inside.

All you ever did was tease him, and you didn't even know it. It drove him crazy that you could do this to him.

You closed your eyes, unaware of the lustful dilemma Dabi was going through seeing you take off your top. You instead focused on your quirk, allowing its power to build, feeling a familiar warm heat grow in the pit of your stomach. It started to spread, a honey warm sensation sliding down your body, hugging your thighs and torso in it as it trailed its way up. When the sensation finally reached your chest, you heard a loud, in awe gasp from Toga.

You smirked, imagining how strange it must be to watch you transform: its not everyday you get to see someone turn into something otherworldly. You opened your eyes, looking down at your hands. Your skin was now fiery red, the color of a ripe maraschino cherry. You looked at your new friends, smiling sheepishly as you saw their shocked faces.

“WHoa! Your eyes! They’re completely black!” Toga breathed out in awe, now sitting on her knees as she craned to stare at your new form.

“Yeah, it's a small side effect of my quirk-” you chuckled.

“I guess I now know why you call yourself Demon, doll face.” Dabi smirked lazily, drinking in this new you. “Your pretty damn hot like that.”

“Ew Dabi dont start that now- Im right here!” Toga complained loudly, not unlike a child seeing their parents kiss. Dabi sighed, rolling his eyes. He forgot-the little brat was still here.

Not going to lie, he was not expecting this: he had thought maybe you used some weird illusion quirk or maybe an elemental type quirk, but nothing like this. Your whole body was this red hot color, your skin completely pigmented to the color of a bright red lipstick. Your hair was crazy and wild from pulling off the sweatshirt, matching the fierce, dangerous gleam in your pitch black eyes.

Why were you so hot to him- even more so like this? Maybe it was because you looked so dangerous now? He didn't think he could hold in more of this sexual tension- he was ready to pounce on you right here. If god damn Toga wasn't there, he probably would. He was just so used to seeing you as this innocent little angel, somebody who had no idea what world they were truly entering into. Yes, You could hold your own, talk back, and stand up for yourself, but- he just loved how flustered you would get with him. The smallest pet name would make you go crazy, cheeks blushing and a stuttering mess. He could tell you were most likely inexperienced in many aspects of love, and oh how did he want to teach you. Every damn thing you didn't know.

But now he couldn't tell- he just knew that with that red blood skin and all black orbs you looked like some other wordly being, straight from Hell itself. You looked like a sex goddess. And he loved it.

“My quirk is kinda rare,” you began nervously, tugging on the small necklace, “Its called ‘quirk bonding’. Basically, I don't just get a mixture of my parents quirk, I actually get both in their entirety. My mom is the one who actually looks like this and she had a fire quirk. My dad on the other hand had a mind quirk- he was able to look into people’s minds and see what their deepest, darkest desires were at that moment. Some people can actually have more than their parent’s quirks, like aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents….but those are especially rare- I just have the two.”

“Whoa….” Toga squealed. “So cool! Fire quirk- just like you Dabi!”

He ignored her voice, shock riddled in his stomach. Hell, you had a fire quirk too? He was surprised at himself though- he would have thought he would feel some type of intimidation from you for having the same type of quirk as him, plus another one on top of it. But he didnt feel anything like that- it was like he was almost glad to hear you had a similar quirk- it made him feel that maybe that meant you two were destined to be together: a sign of some sort.

“So, you can look inside people’s heads?” he asked, his bright blue eyes burning into yours.

Dabi tilted his head up at you, his tongue dancing upward to lick his top lips, a giddy sensation frothing inside him.

“what do you think I'd be thinking about princess?” he flirted, snickering as he watched your already red face somehow turn even more red.

Damn you for looking so cute. He shifted deeper into the couch, watching as you giggled nervously.

You would be the end of him.

-----------------------------

You looked over your shoulder, making sure no student was in sight before slipping into the dark alleyway where you usually changed into your baggy clothes.You had seemingly managed to out walk the sea of white and gray school uniforms you had been consumed in, allowing yourself to feel slightly safe. You let the memory wash over you, relishing the look on Dabi’s face in that moment. He always seemed to give you this sweetly dangerous look, as if a lion looking at a lamb. It made you shiver, but God was it hot. You knew it was bad for you to be having feelings for this villain, but how could you not feel some sort of way for him?

You heard a pair of feet coming up the street, the steps making anxiety ripple in your stomach. Your breath instantly hitched, your mind going a thousand miles a minute: did you finally get caught? Was somebody out to get out? You flattened your body onto the wall next to you, feeling the rough stucco prickle onto your back as two loud school girls walked by, laughing and texting as they strolled by without a care in the world. You rolled your eyes at their ignorance for giving you such a scare, willing your heart to lessen its intense pressure on your ribs. You breathed out a soft sigh, a hand placed over your heart, feeling the beats like a kiss on your digits. Thank God, now you could finally relax-

“Didn’t think you were so jumpy doll face- if you're gonna be working with us in the future, you're gonna have to get more loose,” you heard a male’s voice chuckle out, a playful taunt as you whipped your head around, fearfully searching for the source of the voice. A pair of fiery blue eyes emerged from the shadows of the alleyway, Dabi’s characteristically lazy smirk making annoyance bubble inside you.

“What the hell Dabi!” you cried out, feeling your overactive heart scream against your chest, “you scared me!”

Dabi laughed, no guilt evident on his face.

“Im a villian, sweetheart- get used to it.” He was now standing dangerously close to you, his lean body towering over you. That sinful look was back on his scarred face, his lips curling into a bi-colored smirk. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you tried desperately to keep your stance and not melt under his intense gaze. You both kept up your staring contest, each side not wanting to falter.

“Its still not cool,” you retorted back, feeling your anger bubble away as you felt yourself get lost in those blue eyes. Damn him for being so dangerously pretty- you felt your eyes began to roam his face, following the separation between his smooth skin to the death purple, marred scars. The staples glinted like stars in the lowering sunlight, the sky turning a soft shade of indigo.

Dabi had been staring right back, loving the annoyed expression on your face- even if it was directed at him. He had no shame as he admired how sweet and innocent you looked in that school uniform, your curves slightly hinted at behind the thing white shirt and pleated green skirt. The short stocking you wore didn't help his imagination, his mind taking each article of clothing off one by one. It was such a stark contrast from your true quirk, he couldn't help but find it somewhat comical that you were on both spectrums: the most purely innocent to the downright sensual. He continued to gaze at you, noticing the blush creep up your cheeks, not minding if he was making you feel uncomfortable.

“Dont look at me like that,” your voice wavered, barely audible as heat flooded your body, Dabi’s ice blue eyes stopped scanning your body and meet yours.

If it was anyone but you, he would have instantly defended himself- he did whatever he wanted to do, damn what others told him. But you- you were different, he never wanted to intentionally hurt you, and by the way your voice faltered, you seemed to like that he roamed your body. You just weren't used to it- but that was alright, he’d make sure you got real comfortable with how much he adored you.

He took a step closer, your bodies a hair away from being pressed up against each other.

“Why’s that?” he asked huskily, his smirk growing dangerously.

Your mind felt numb- how could he do this to you? You felt like you couldnt even think straight- you were so consumed in those aqua eyes and the lingering scent of firewood that seemed to grow with each step he took towards you. God, he was downright intoxicating- you could drown in him forever.

While your heart was loving the fact that he was outright flirting with you, your head was screaming with logic- he was villain, this could never work! This complicated your plans, not make them clearer! And he could be doing this to dozens of other girls- making them feel like they were special, and then ripping their hearts out to shreds. You wouldn't put in past him. You reluctantly stepped away from him, ending the trance you had put yourselves in abruptly.

You spun around, trying to calm your heart, your head faced away from him. You needed to end this, now- you couldnt let this one man get in the way of your goals, even though you were seemingly falling for his charms.

You took a deep breath of cool night air, forcing yourself to get rid of the heat he had cause inside your body.

“Its rude,” you shot over your shoulder, your voice icy as you slung your backpack off your shoulder to dig for your clothes.

Dabi just merely rolled his eyes, his grin still on his face. You pushed him away, he could take it: He was angry that you ending the energy between you two so suddenly.

“Besides-” you added, “how did you even know I would be here?”

He leaned on the wall, his smirk now half as small, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Just followed the wave of school kids, until I found your face in it.”

It sounded innocent enough, but in his voice, it sounded menacing, like a predator stalking its prey. A satisfying chill crackled up your back. You imagined Dabi slinking in the alleyways, following and watching your every move with those icy blue eyes. The thought made your body feel off balanced, your head foggy.

You contiued to not look at him, knowing full well that lazy smirk was plastered on his face.

“Well that was stupid-” you scolded him, “you couldve been seen.”

“Aw, you care about me? How precious,” he cooed at you mockingly, enjoying the way your back stiffen, knowing you reacted to his words.

It was so easy to make you react to him, even when you tried not to- Dabi found it quite fun. A game of sorts.

You rolled your eyes, hating how even when he was mocking you, he could make you feel so warm inside.

“No, its just I dont think its smart to be sneaking around a whole building full of Pro Heroes that would arrest you in a instant.” You retorted calmly, trying to act as if his words didnt effect you in the slightest.

Dabi perked up his eyebrows, a little bit of annoyance bubbling inside him. He knew damn well you werent any better than him- you were probably a little worse. You were a spy for the League of Villians- you were practically in the belly of the beast every day. He knew you really meant no harm, but he didnt like to be questioned, especially by someone who was doing exactly what he was doing.

“Dont patronize me, Demon,” he sighed, his body relaxed but his jaw tight, “ you do the same damn thing everyday.”

Well that hurt.

You stopped rummaging through your backpack, startled slightly by his lack of friendliness in his voice. It bothered you that he called you by your name you had told him, not by the sweet pet names he always called you by. You shook off the feeling instantly, letting it slide off your conscience- it didn't matter that he seemed annoyed with you. Damn him- you were only concerned for his well being.

“Maybe- maybe not. I’m just….careful. And I just want you to be too.”

You chose your words carefully, not wanting to escalate the argument any further. You chose that time to peak a look at Dabi’s expression. To anyone walking by, he would have looked calm, relaxed even. But you observed him a little more closely- his jaw was clenched, and his hands stuffed in his pockets roughly. He was obviously bothered by your words. The air felt heavy enough to slice with a knife and the silence unbearable to deal with to you.

Dabi couldn't believe what he just heard- this was the first thing you had said to him that reciprocated some sort of feelings towards you. Even though you were being pretty nosy a few minutes ago, he couldn't help but feel exhilarated by your words. They were sweet and pure, and he really didn't know how to feel about it. Dabi was a man run by primal passion, and not really keen on the fluffy feelings of love. It was a hassle to deal with, especially with the wall he had around his heart, and he wasn't used to others expressing concern for his well being. But you just did right now, and even if it was intended to be friendly, it made his heart race and new, honest emotions bubble inside him he hadn't felt for years.

You sighed, feeling you had said the wrong thing as Dabi brooded in his thoughts.

“Just let me change, then we can go to the League.”

Dabi heard your voice and instantly shook off the feelings he was feeling for you, reluctantly rebuilding the wall up around him and plastering that lazy smile back on his face.

“No need to do that- Shigaraki has something for you.”

He walked past you, that agonizing smell of firewood drifting off his clothes as he pulled out a black, thin box from a hidden corner in the alleyway. He held it out, motioning for you to take it. You watched his every move, giving him a quizzical look as he held out he box for you to take. He flashed you a cocky grin, making a weak smile come out of you. You didnt know where the new found friendliness had came from, but you were just glad Dabi had gotten over your argument so quickly. You took the box eagerly, confused on what it could be. The box was thin, with a small silver latch on the front. You unhooked it, a satisfying “snap” filling the air as you opened the lid, a small gasp escaping fro your mouth.

“Your new villain suit,” Dabi smiled at your shocked face.”If your going to be coming out as a villain pretty soon, your gonna need something better than some voice changer and pajamas.”

You couldnt belive it- your own authentic suit. One that wasnt trying to covering you up. Back at UA, your hero suit was pretty mediocre- it completely covered up your body, except for one arm so you could activate your fire quirk. You felt covered up, as if they wanted you to look less menacing, as if your red skin was a curse. It was already a curse enough to have a quirk that changed your whole body- why couldn't they just let you accept it?

But this new suit- it was completely black, a reflective gray shine to the fabric as you shimmied the fabric in the setting sun. There were etheral black cut outs at the hips, tendrils of fabric like flames licking up to make the bodice. Matching cuffs with yellow orbs like moons were there to accent your arms, giving the ensemble a pop of color. It was exactly as you invisioned yourself to look like- powerful. Confident. Dangerous.

You gave Dabi a look of appreciation, his blue eyes watching your face with a look of humor. He didnt think youd get this excited over it- you practically looked like a kid on Christmas.

“They are not pajamas-” you finally retorted back after a few moments of admiring your new outfit, trying to keep your overwhelming excitement at bay, “ their sweats.”

Dabi laughed, not really knowing how that made a difference. “Whatever you say Demon.”

You continued to look at the costume, feeling a surge of appreciation fill you. You couldn't believe it- you were finally being accepted. After years of being alone, of suppressing your quirk because of the fear people had of you and your quirk's effects on your body, you finally found a group that actually liked you for you.

“This is really mine?”

Dabi smiled softly. “Who else would it be for? Dont ask questions- just take it.”

You gave a curt nod, smiling down at the outfit.

“Ya know, I gave some ideas for the outfit to Shigaraki.” Dabi commented, a flirtatious tone in his voice

“Oh really?” you said sarcastically, “ I didn't even notice.” Dabi’s touch was definitely in the suit- he seemed to have a flare for black with gray pieces, which was evident in the material used for the cuffs. And how tight the whole suit was, you could definitely see him trying to convince Shigaraki for that little detail.

“I hope you love it as much as I do.” He leaned in close to your face, those fiery eyes piercing your soul with such a lustful look you couldn't help but look away- it was so hard to keep eye contact with him.

You blushed again furiously, angry at yourself for instantly looking away. How was he so easy to control your emotions? You felt like this was just a huge cat and mouse game to him- he’d give you some space, allowing you to feel confident enough to banter and kid with him, and then he latches onto you, throwing in a comment that throws you in for a loop.

“Th-thank you-,” you stuttered slightly ,swallowing to regain your composure, “but Im confused- why wouldnt you just give me this at the bar?”

“Oh he didnt tell you?” Dabi smiled evilly, making your heart race. “We’re going out training tonight- just you and me.”

You internally screamed. What the hell Shigaraki?! He knew how much of a pervert Dabi secretly was- he didnt try that hard to hide it. So why was Shigaraki trying to screw you over by placing you with this man you were slowly gaining feelings for?

“Shigaraki thinks it would be a good idea for me to train you,” Dabi continued, hardly noticing the terror erupting inside you from the thought of being alone with him, “ since our quirks are similar. Help you feel out how to work alongside the League once we put our plan into place.”

You simply nodded your head, trying to pretend you were cool and collected about learning this new information.

“Smart,” you agreed, “-alright, I’m in. I just need a place to change into my costume.”

“Oh, thats alright princess- I dont mind if ya do it right here. Matter of fact- I’d really love it if you do.”

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Was this good? Did you guys like it? Im debating whether to write a Part 3, so I’ll just base my decisions off of what you guys decide!

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REQUESTS OPEN/ Matchups closed/ Asks open 24/7!!!!

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Taggings:

@cin-midnight @ justaweaboonugget @ tinyweaselhoundpickle @ missalicebaskerville @ velvet-kissesss @ nekee-lilac02 @ placeoftime @ lillushx

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takadasaiko · 4 years

Text

Three Little Words (a Veronica Mars one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Veronica has always had a little more trouble with those three little words than Logan has.

Three Little Words

There was something about pre-dawn that made every louder. Doors creaked, pipes sang, and even the coffee pot sounded like it was being amped up through a megaphone aimed directly into her ear. Veronica groaned loudly and turned over, risking a look at the clock. 5:15. It just wasn't right.

Footsteps - soft, she knew somewhere in the back of her mind, even if somehow the hour magically made it sound like he was stomping through the apartment - drew closer and Logan appeared at the door in just his sleeping pants with a toothbrush still stuck in his mouth. "Hey, did I wake you up?" he asked around it, his voice very quiet and very loud all at once.

Veronica pushed a breath out through her nose and sat up in bed. Something was off. He was further along in his morning routine than he ever should have been at this hour, even if the Navy had somehow managed to train him into being a morning person. He must have already been out on his run down the beach because the pants he was wearing weren't the same ones that he'd worn to bed the night before - those were still crumpled on the floor in the corner - meaning that he'd already had his shower. His hair wasn't wet, though. It took a moment, but realization finally clicked into place. "Your leave's over today."

He gave a brief nod and disappeared back to the bathroom to rinse.

It felt like he'd just gotten back from his six month deployment yesterday. The two weeks had been a blur of excitement over the simple fact that they weren't just on the same continent again, but in the same town. There had been more than one late night while he was away - especially after a long stretch of radio silence from him - that Veronica had laid in bed and wondered if her brain had just cooked everything up. If she would blink her eyes open and she'd be back in New York City with Piz asleep next to her and her nice, normal job waiting for her the next day. Every damn time she'd felt her heart sink at the thought and had reached for her phone. Just in case. Here, now, she could hold onto him. He was living, breathing proof that she'd made the right decision.

While they had held up in the guesthouse that he rented from Dick for the first two days or so, they'd made a conscious effort to get out and do things together. Dinner and a movie, walks on the beach, and he'd helped her move into her new apartment. Ten days had flown by faster than she could have ever predicted, especially on the heels of the longest hundred and eighty days known to man. She wasn't sure she was ready to let him go and start getting used to whatever this new, new normal was. She just wanted to tug him back into bed and ignore the hour.

There was that whole AWOL thing, though. The Navy sure was picky.

"You have some time before you have to go?" she called out, trying to decide if she could steal any time with him at all. Breakfast, maybe.

"First day back after leave is always busy, especially right after deployment," he answered from across the hall and stepped back into her line of sight. "I need to drop by my place and get dressed before getting out there. I was going to just sleep there last night, but you know. Best laid plans and all of that." He gave her an impish smile and she felt her own lips quirk up at the thought of the night before.

"You should probably keep them here so you don't have to leave at an hour that shouldn't even exist," Veronica offered, flopping back against her pillow.

Logan bent to dig through his bag that he'd finally brought over. "You offering me a drawer?"

"Maybe. If you play your cards right."

He straightened, tugging a fresh t-shirt over his head and her own smile faded a little. "No time for breakfast?"

"I'll grab a bagel to eat on the way down to San Diego." He dropped the lightweight pajama pants and exchanged them for a pair of jeans. "Dinner tonight, though?"

"Will you be back in time?"

"Should be. I'll give you a call when I leave out."

"It's a date," she said with a sly grin and a motion for him to come closer. She caught his hand and pulled him in. Logan didn't take much coaxing as he leaned down, his eyes falling closed as his lips brushed hers. She wrapped her fingers around the fabric of his shirt to bring him even closer.

He was the one to break the kiss and as her eyes drifted back open, trying to stop herself from hauling him back into bed if they had time or not, and she found that soft brown gaze fixed on her. "I love you," he whispered and she felt herself freeze at the words. If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it, but pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Gotta go."

And then he was out the door, leaving those three unanswered words hanging heavily in the air.

---------

They stuck with her all day. Through coffee and breakfast, through a morning jog and a shower, and they even worked their way through her often unshakable focus on the case at hand.

I love you.

It wasn't like Logan had never said them before. He had been adamant about it after that first confession in his car all those years ago. At the time she had brushed it off with a quip about the things guys said to get past second base, but he had said it again and again after. Sometimes it was boldly, all the confidence in the world filling the words and sometimes quietly, almost as if he were afraid that she didn't reciprocate. However he said it, she never questioned that he believed it and that he meant it with everything he had had in him.

That had been years ago, though, and this had been the first time he'd let those three little words slip out since they had found their way back to each other. And she hadn't been able to say it back, like so many times before.

Veronica sighed, her gaze directed at the office window but not really focused on anything in particular. It wasn't that she didn't feel it. They had so often been caught up in the next batch of chaos life was churning out at them when they were young, but she had been drawn to him in a way she'd never known with any other guy. He had always been more ready than she had been to put feelings out on the table - to be vulnerable with her - and it looked like no amount of growth had changed that when the moment had called for it.

It wasn't like she didn't know why. Years and maturity didn't erase the fact that she had lost nearly everyone she had been close to. Her mother, gone again and again to finally close the lid on all of Veronica's failed attempts by not only squandering the help her daughter had used her college savings to pay for, but then taking off with the money her father had meant to put towards Stanford. Lilly who had been gone so suddenly and the utter lack of justice that had followed with Aaron's release. Sure, he'd gotten his in the end, but after what he'd done to all of them he deserved to suffer so much more than a bullet to the back of the head. Then there had been Duncan who had been run out of town just to have a chance to raise his own kid and even Logan himself. Looking back, she wondered if her readiness to assume the worst with him had been a subconscious way of protecting herself, just like leaving Neptune and keeping those few that had somehow held on at arm's length had been. People never stayed. They died or they just left. It was the lesson she'd learned and that had been deeply ingrained through repetition, and if you didn't let yourself get too attached it hurt a lot less.

But knowing it in the abstract and doing something to change it we're different beasts entirely. She'd made a start. Coming home had been more of a relief than she ever would have predicted, almost like she'd stopped running and turned to face the fight instead. Adrenaline pumping, purpose set, it had felt right for the first time in years. She'd reconnected with Wallace and Mac, rekindled that close relationship she hadn't realized she'd missed that much with her dad, and she and Logan…. would have to find their stride. She knew she didn't want to live without him, that he had remained - even with nine years of silence between them - one of the most important people to ever move through her life. She wanted him there with her for years and years to come, their lives intertwined. She wanted to continue to learn more about the man that had once been the boy she had…. loved.

And still did. Always did. Always would. She loved him.

"You doin' okay there?"

Veronica jumped at her father's voice. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded, feeling the blood rush to her face.

"Long enough to wonder if the world's goofiest smile might have something to do with the owner of the way-too-fancy sports car that just pulled up outside," Keith answered with a crooked smile of his own.

The front door to the office chimed and Veronica spotted a familiar figure in his service khakis. If her dad had thought the smile she had been wearing before was goofy it was a wonder what he thought about the one she wore as she stood from her desk and started towards him. "Hey, I thought you were gonna call first."

"I did. Several times," he answered lightly, his own smile tilting into place to match the amusement in his eyes. His gaze flickered over to Keith. "Mr Mars."

"Logan," he greeted back. "And while it's always nice to have been promoted from dude, Keith's fine. You kids have plans tonight?"

"Dinner," Veronica answered, pulling her boyfriend's attention fully back towards her and his eyes narrowed just a little, though they never lost that spark of amusement.

"I was thinking about that new Chinese place at the edge of town if you're interested."

"Very. You good, Dad?"

He waved them off as he shuffled back towards his own office, leaving Veronica to grab her purse and slip her hand into Logan's as they made their way out the door and into the hallway leading out. He tugged a little after the door closed behind them. "You're in a good mood for getting woken up at the crack of dawn."

"Before the crack of dawn," Veronica countered and pulled him a little closer at that to wrap her arms around his neck. Logan's lips twitched up before he ducked down, spinning her a little so that her back was against the wall as he stole a kiss. "I love you too," she breathed as they parted.

"What's that now?"

She let her eyes slide open and she saw hints of all that boyish charm that had always gotten them into trouble. "Just answering you from this morning."

His expression sobered just a little and his words were quiet. "Wasn't sure you were going to."

"I know. It still…. takes me a little while. I'm working on it, but I want you to know that I do. Love you, I mean."

That grin returned. "I love you too."

"Yeah, that was never in question," she laughed and he tilted his head just a little to the side. "You don't exactly have trouble telling me how you feel."

"Sure I do," he answered softly and took the smallest of steps back. She took hold of the front of his uniform and pulled him back in close. His smile returned and he shrugged as if he realized she wasn't letting him go until he explained. "I don't have to tell you that I…. don't always face things head on. That I deflect. I think it was something I learned pretty young."

Veronica frowned a little at that. She could make a relatively safe bet on who and what had taught him the lesson that he had to protect himself emotionally when he couldn't protect himself physically.

"I don't get close to a lot of people, but I made myself a promise a long time ago with you."

"What's that?"

"That you'd know me. That you'd never have to question if you did. Now, after everything, I don't want to hide anything from you, even if…." He ran a hand through his shortly cropped hair. "You don't have to say it just because I do, Veronica. I just want you to know I love you. That doesn't come with strings."

"I know I don't have to, but it's the truth."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in, his forehead touching hers and it was everything she could do to remember they were outside the Mars Investigation offices with her father inside. "Let's get takeout instead of going out."

"You sure?"

She tipped up on her toes, catching him in a kiss as her hand slipped lower and lower down the front of his shirt. "Oh yeah." Her hand slipped down into his again and he was already moving towards the cars parked on the street outside.

All these years later, all the pain and the mixed bag of good and bad decisions later, she knew it would work this time. Some of it was the growth, sure. They had had to get their lives together separately to make it work together, but it would work. She loved him too much to let it fall apart again.

--------

Notes: I was really sad when I realized that Veronica didn't actually say the words "I love you" until S4 and this is the result. It's not that I think she didn't love him, it's that her walls are tough to break down.

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #Veronica Mars fic

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ithehellisbucky · 4 years

Text

Yellow and Fuckboy- Random People Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested: None

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cussing, brief mentions of sexual harassment, brief talks about eviction, general bitchiness

Author’s Note: Ahhhhh, I finally posted something. I know I’m a day late, but I tried my best. I only had enough time to edit the first half, so sorry if there are any errors. This will be a series, with about 5, 6, or 7 parts, it depends on the turn this takes. Requests and taglists are open. Love you, and stay safe out there!

This is the end. Standing on a crosswalk in the middle of a bustling street with people screaming all around you. This is the end. But then again, you never know what the ending is until it's done. But it isn't done yet.

6 years. 6 years at that job. A good job. A job with a guarantee of climbing the corporate ladder. A job that you had just been fired from.

Why the fuck were you fired? Stupid bullshitters caught one whiff of a sexual harassment scandal and booted you out without a second thought. And blamed it on your "work ethic". Stupid Jonah should have been fired instead, he was the one who would wolf whistle and "flirt" (the shitty thing that he tried to claim he was doing instead of sexual harassment) whenever you walking by his desk. Not you.

Then after all of that shit, your landlord evicted you. Said that "you wouldn't be able to pay the rent" because you were fired. You would've been able to throw something together if he had trusted you. If someone had trusted you.

But no one had. You're just standing in the middle of the street. Without anyone. Trying to convince yourself that this wasn't the end of the world.

This is the beginning. The beginning of something. The beginning of a whole new future. In the middle of the bustling street, there was only one spotlight. And that spotlight is on James Barnes.

Today was the day. The day to end all other. Bucky's pulse was the only sound he could make out, even though there was noise all around him.

"What am I gonna do without you Buck." He turned around to look at a face he had seen almost every day of his life, a face he almost forgot was standing right next to him.

"I don't know Steve, but you’re gonna figure it out." The better question in Bucky's mind was what the hell he was going to do without Steve. Every day of his life he had seen Steve. What the hell was he going to do without the scrawny kid who wasn't afraid of a fight but definitely should be? Possibly survive, probably die.

On the inside, Bucky had no idea what the hell he was going to do. All he knew, is that this was the beginning of something. He didn't know what. All he knew was that it was the beginning

An apartment. That's all you needed. An apartment. One bedroom, one bathroom. Maybe even a kitchen, or a living room if you were lucky. Hell, at this point you'd settle for no windows.

Today is hell. It honestly couldn't get any worse.

Something hits your back. It was light, and for a moment you thought it could be a pebble or something. You reach behind you and touch the top of your back, right where the fabric of your shirt meets the strap of your backpack.

Nothing was there. You shrug your shoulders and continue to walk along. The same sensation hits your nose. Nothing, again. All there is is a small wet splotch. Oh. Oh no. This is bad. This is worse than bad. This is devastatingly horrible.

Looking up towards the sky in horror, you wince as another raindrop hits your cheek. The movies were right. You should never say "it can't get any worse." Because then it’ll immediately start raining.

At least it's only a small drizzle. Nothing too bad could come from it.

...Fuck.

Almost the exact second that thought ran through your mind that a complete and total downpour washed over you. Thunder was crashing all around you, and everyone started running. You pull up your backpack and put it over your head. Like that would do anything to stop the flood that was coming down to you.

If this was a movie you would be running through the rain to your estranged lover, but alas, this isn't a movie. Instead, you're running to a diner that is barely in your line of vision.

As you run towards the diner the wheel of your suitcase gets caught on the curb, causing you to fall over. While pushing yourself off the ground, you look down and see that your knees have been bloodied by the fall.

Sighing, you straighten your suitcase and continue to walk towards the restaurant at a much slower pace; partially because of your skimmed knees, and partially because your mood is just as hurt.

Once you reach the diner you stand in the foyer, thinking about all the horrific turns this day has taken. Wiping your feet on the mat and putting your backpack back on your back you sigh loudly into the universe. Not to a person, place, or thing, to the universe.

You open the door and take a whiff of fresh coffee and warm waffles. You roll your suitcase over the bump in the doorway and hear a clanging noise.

The diner was more crowded than most of the other diners you had been to in Brooklyn, and you wonder what makes it so special. The funny thing was that most people weren't in there to shield themselves from the rain, the majority of people looked like this was just another day, not the day the world was ending.

Dragging your suitcase behind you, you walk towards one of the only empty seats at the countertop. There is one empty seat on your left, and the one on your right is taken by a man in a blue business suit.

You take a seat on the stool and plop your suitcase down on the seat beside you. If someone wants to sit there enough they'll ask. You take a look at the menu in front of you. Within two seconds you had instantly picked out the meal that you wanted: chocolate chip pancakes and a coffee.

Waiting for the waiter to come over to take your order wasn't easy. You had just been fired, evicted, and then caught in a goddamn thunderstorm; you aren't in the mood to be patient.

For a few minutes, the seat next to you was empty. Then, someone walked up being you, and said the exact words: "Is this seat taken."

A rainstorm. Just his luck. Possible the only thing that could happen to take Bucky down a notch had happened, a rainstorm. It may not be the worst thing on the planet, but it's certainly up there.

Almost the exact second he had said goodbye to Steve for the last time in a long time, the sky opened up its floodgates and poured them down onto him. It was almost as if the weather was reciprocating the emotions he was feeling.

While running to the nearest building he could find, the only thought running through Bucky's head was how he would find the airport. He barely left Brooklyn, and when he did do it, it was by subway.

The bell chimed as he entered the building, which he could now see was a diner from the decor. Panting, he looked around the room for a seat. There didn't seem to be any until he spotted one with a suitcase on it.

The woman that the suitcase presumably belonged to was wearing a purple sweater and blue jeans that stopped midway up her calves. She was (for some twisted reason that was beyond him) wearing cheap yellow flip-flops that looked like they were from dollar tree. Her backpack was black, and the straps were sagging so much that the bottom of the bag reached several inches below the bottom of the seat she was sitting on.

Grumbling, Bucky walked over to the countertop, thinking of how much he didn't want to deal with some crazy lady wearing yellow flip-flops in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Is this seat taken?" Bucky asks the yellow-flip-flop-wearing-lady with grain in his voice.

You turn around, trying to make the exhaustion on your face as clear as humanly possible. Turning to face the man who had so *rudely* interrupted your peaceful, if not depressing, brooding, you plaster a scowl over your face.

However, when you turn to see him, you see something that you were without a doubt not expecting. A handsome young man (dear god you sound like a grandmother).

He's wearing a brown coat, and the shirt beneath it is a navy blue. He's wearing a pair of dirty blue jeans, and it looks like the second or third time they’ve been worn without being washed. The black baseball hat he's wearing somehow matches perfectly with the rest of the ensemble. His dark brown hair is tousled in a way that's halfway between "fuckboy" and "my hair is messy because I was busy making you breakfast at 8 AM and I didn't have time to brush it."

But even when you take all of this into account (his flawless body, hair, face, eyes, and general vibe) you couldn’t bring yourself to be nice to him on such a shitty day. "What the fuck is your problem."

Instead of acting offended, or gasping in horror, he simply rolls his eyes. Yep, definitely a New York native.

"My fucking problem is that your backpack is in the seat I need to sit in." He almost looks more annoyed that you... Almost.

You roughly pull your suitcase off of the stool and onto the floor, not breaking eye contact with the fuckboy (that is the option that you have decided to go with since he's pissed you off this much).

He kicks your suitcase out of the way, and for a second he looks at you like he's expecting a big ass reaction, instead, all you do is scoff and stare straight in front of you.

The waiter walks up to you, and within a heartbeat, you can tell that she's new to Brooklyn. She has straight and perfectly combed black hair that doesn't have a single hair loose. She has perfectly straight posture, and the look in her eyes of someone who hasn't seen someone pee on a subway. Not to mention that that makeup matches with her skin tone perfectly, not the half-toned shit that's 2 shades off your skin tone that you wear.

"Can I take your order?" Her voice is far too cheery for a diner in Brooklyn, even the waiters who fake it for the tips couldn't muster up that much positivity.

Feigning a smile you simply say, "chocolate chip pancakes, and coffee as black as my heart." The waitress looked taken aback, and the sickly sweet smile that you choose to plaster on your face remained the same. "Thanks," you look to see her nametag "Manta."

Fuckboy snorts, and you can tell that he is far more amused by the situation than you are. "And all have the eggs and sausage with the-" snort "coffee as black as her heart."

'Manta' has an awkward look on her face, and you can tell that she is trying to push the negative emotions down. Her face soon perks up, and as she takes your menus she responds with: "I'll have that right out for you."

Your smile remains sickly sweet as she walks away, but it immediately drops the second she leaves your eyesight.

"Why the fuck are you wearing yellow flip-flops?" Fuckboy says with a sneer.

"Why the fuck aren't you wearing yellow flip-flops." You respond, raising both your eyebrows and speaking in a mocking tone.

This lady is getting on Bucky's fucking nerves. She acted like she ran the fucking place, when in fact the only thing she had control over her fucking flip-flops. He was trying not to be a sexist bitch, but Bucky was wondering how anyone could be so shit-headed.

In Bucky's eyes, today was supposed to be the perfect day. Starting over. Joining the military. Yet in "Yellow" (the name Bucky choose to call her in his head because of her obnoxious yellow flip-flops) seemed to be put on this earth to make Bucky feel any emotion but happiness. Fine, two could play at that game.

"You know, I was having a decent fucking day, so I would appreciate if you try not to ruin what's left of it." He said while staring at the clock and wondering how quickly he could get out of the establishment.

"We don't always get what we want." She shook her head in a way that made it seem like she was mocking him, which she didn't seem to be doing. Even if she was, she was doing it horribly.

"Can't I get what I want this fucking time." Bucky reaches into his pocket and rolls around a cigarette that he hasn't had the chance to smoke yet, and contemplates what the consequences of him pulling it out would be.

"No, apparently you can't," Yellow responds. Both of them were staring ahead into nothing.

The waitress, Manta, comes back with Yellow's pancakes. Yellow's fake sugary sweet demeanor returns and Bucky can tell under the artificial smile she seems slightly happy to receive the food.

Manta puts a coffee in front of each of them, and when she speaks she does it with her trademark smile, "Your sausage and eggs will be right out sir."

Putting on a fake smile (unlike Yellow he actually meant to be nice, and not just to be evil) he said: "thank you so much."

After receiving his coffee he turned to Yellow and said: "What the fuck made you act this way? Why in God's name would you be so horrible to someone who had done absolutely nothing."

Her head snaps back over to Bucky, and she makes piercing eye contact. "You know what made me act this way. You know fucking why?" Yellow seemed to actually state this as a question, but before Bucky could respond she continued.

"I was fucking fired because some shithead said he wanted to get in my jeans. Then I was evicted from my apartment by my asshole landlord. I have nothing and no one in my life that needs me, so why the fuck should I act happy." She pauses to catch her breath, then continues on her tirade.

"I've been nice to people who haven't deserved my entire fucking life, and I'm so fucking sick of it. You have a look on your face that says that the hardest decision you've ever had to make was to fuck someone from the front or the back. Get the fuck over yourself, some people have shit to deal with."

Why the fuck had you just explained your life story to a stranger. No idea. It just felt kind of right. In a weird and twisted way, you felted more comforted with this stranger than around assholes you had known your whole life.

"I'm sorry you went through that, but that doesn't mean you get to treat people like shit," Fuckboy said in a tone softer than any that someone had spoken to you in years.

Before you know what's happening you feel tears welling up in your eyes. "You're probably right. Shit, no. You're definitely right. I swear to god that I've never acted this way before. It's just, today is different." You look over to Fuckboy and shrug your head. "I've always had shit days, it's just that today was takes the cake."

Fuckboy looks down at his shoes and then back up at you. "Listen, I'm not sorry for what I said, I just want you to know that I believe you. From the story, you told me I'm pretty sure you're not used to people saying that to you.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot." He says in a tone that you're certain you haven't been spoken to before.

"I do too." You exclaim as you twist your lips around, keeping at least one part of your body busy as your mind roams Fuckboy's mannerisms.

"Here's your egg and sausage, sir." Manta puts a plate down in front of Fuckboy, much to his delight.

Fuckboy immediately stuffs his face with the sausage, and then looks over and glares at you. Understanding what his eyes were saying, you turn to face Manta.

"I'm sorry Manta. I didn't mean to be a bitch. I've had a long day, and, I don't know. It's not really an excuse, I'm just sorry." You look at her in hope, with a neutral expression on your face.

For a second you think she's going to react badly, and then she perks up again, excited by your apology. "Don't worry about it! We all have our bad days, and I just happened to catch you on yours."

You let out a sigh of relief and smile a genuine smile at her acceptance. "Um, here's my card; I don't work at the place listed there anymore, but the personal number still works. If you ever need a favor, just call me. I'm almost always by my phone, and what I mean by that is that I'm almost always scrolling through supermodels Insta feeds."

Upon excepting the card Manta perked up even more, "Thank you so much."

"So, how am I doing?" Yellow asks Bucky.

"...Actually pretty good. I'm super impressed that you can just turn it off and on like that, pretty twisted superpower." He exclaims with a chuckle.

"Thank you, for your overwhelming support," Yellow responds. After hearing her say this Bucky lets out a chuckle, and in his heart of hearts he truly means it.

"So, what's your life story. I already told you mine." Yellow Pauses to think for a second. "I swear if it's more depressing than mine, I'm going to be super pissed."

Bucky ponders the question for a moment, and then answers with: "Nothing too horrible I have a sister named Rebecca, my mom is my favorite person. I have a scrawny best friend named Steve." Bucky continues to think for a few more seconds and then, like a lightbulb, Bucky remembers something that is very important to his story. "And I am joining the military, today."

Yellow's jaw drops to the fucking floor, much to Bucky's amusement. "I'm so fucking sorry. If I had known I probably would of, well, done the same thing." She pauses and looks the other way in shame. "I'm sorry."

"It's all good, I wasn't really attached to my pride anyway." Yellow feigned shock and Bucky responded by chuckling. He was really liking her more and more as the moments passed.

"Oh, and by the way, my name is-" She started to say, but then Bucky quickly cut her off.

"I don't want to know your name. I'll probably never see you after today, and I don't want another thing to miss." Bucky knew that he wanted to know her name, but he also knew that he'd regret it if he found out.

Yellow raised her eyebrows in confusion (Bucky was beginning to think that this was a mannerism of hers) but she soon realized what he was getting at and then lowered them. "Okay, so then what do you propose you call me then?"

Bucky wanted to act like he was pondering this question, even when in reality he had made up the nickname in his head. "Yellow, because of your flip-flops."

"Again with the flip-flops! What is with your obsession?!" She counters with a laugh.

"So my name is-" Bucky says with a smile, counteracting her statement.

"Na-ah-ah," Yellow responds, waving her finger in front of Bucky's face as if to scold him, much to his amusement. "If I get a codename, so do you."

"What's it gonna be?" Bucky asks entertained by this entire conversation, and curious to see what nickname she was going to give him.

"Fuckboy." She says, making a definite stance.

"Thank you, for that overwhelming compliment," Bucky responds, slightly taken aback by her brutal remark.

"It's not a bad thing. It's because of your hair." She says, her grin growing wider by the minute.

"My hair?" Bucky responds, not sure of what to do with that piece of information.

"Yes your hair, gives off major Jack Dawson vibes." She counters with a chuckle.

"So Jack is suddenly is suddenly a fuckboy?" Bucky exclaims as he takes another bite of his eggs.

"Need I remind you that he painted women nude in fucking France." She says right before swallowing a bite of her pancakes.

"I get your point, Fuckboy it is," Bucky says with a smile that lights up his entire face, causing a chain reaction on Yellow.

Fuckboy was charming. Then again, all fuckboys are charming. But he seemed different, he seemed... Softer.

"Why are you joining the military, if you don't mind me asking." You exclaim as you twirl your finger around on the rim of your coffee.

"I dunno; my entire life I just wanted to help people, and I found a way to do that using something I'm good at. Fighting." He exclaims through a full mouth of eggs.

"It sounds like you do know." You say a second before you put another bite of pancake into your mouth.

"Know what?" Fuckboy asks you through a mouth full of eggs.

"Why you're joining the military." You say, your mouth equally as stuffed.

"That's what I tell people." He says, looking over to you with endearing eyes. "I really don't know why. If I think too hard about it I come to the conclusion that it's because I know my life will have come to nothing if I don't do something noteworthy."

His brow creases, and you ponder for a second what your response will be. "How do you know that you'll do something noteworthy in the army? How do you know that your life won't end up as anything no matter how hard you try to make it do the opposite."

Fuckboy turns to look at you, amusement resting on his features. "Thank you for the vote of encouragement."

"I'm only saying this because I don't think you could ever be nothing. I immediately classified you as a Leonardo DiCaprio type, that's not nothing. You're going to do great thing's whether it's in the military or not."

Fuckboy looks up from his eggs in earnest. "Thank you for saying that, it makes me feel a lot better."

"The trick is to be as brutally honest as possible. You're bound to say at least one thing right if 89% of everything you say is completely and totally devastating bullshit."

You finish off the last bite of your pancake and pick up your suitcase from the floor. "Well, I expect payment from my words of wisdom to be the eight dollars for my pancakes, peace out!"

This conversation had become too emotional, you knew you would have gotten attached if you continued the conversation.

"Wait no!" Fuckboy catches your arm, and your secretly happy that he wanted you to stay with him.

"I don't have to check in until six, so would you like to stay with me until then? I was going to go around some landmarks, and maybe see a broadway show, but I would appreciate it if you stayed with me, for just these few hours."

His forehead was doing that cute crease thing, and you faked internal conflict before saying what was always on your mind through it all: "yes."

His face practically explodes with excitement, and yours does too. You and Fuckboy didn't have forever, but at least you had today. And you were going to live this day as if it were your last.

Part 2

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