#THE WAYYYY I GIGGLED WRITING THIS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

python333 · 8 months

Note

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.

You’re still staring at the scalpel.

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.

The fists your hands have formed become tighter.

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.

There’s a knock. Then another.

The door handle twists.

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.

The door opens.

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”

“... Ye sure?”

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”

“Ye whit?”

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.

“No.”

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”

“Us ‘four’ being… ?”

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.

Your words affect them more than you thought they would.

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”

“I do.”

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”

“But you just said that I was strong.”

“I did.”

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

458 notes · View notes

jishyucks · 5 months

Text

Desk Deliveries — ljn

‣ pairing: lee jeno x reader

‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l/coworkers-to-lovers, secret admirer au, office!au

‣ wc: 5.6k

‣ summary: When gifts start appearing on your work desk on December 1st, you have no choice but to hunt down the man who’s been planting them. And with only 7 men on the floor, this shouldn’t be difficult… Right?

‣ warnings: nothing really?, cliche-ish ending, a lot of dialogue (I gotta get this story goingggg)

‣ an: jeno’s wooooo, honestly easier to write than I thought but it’s wayyyy longer than I wanted it to be (I keep underestimating? myself), I just hope it’s up to my own standards lmaooo, but hopefully u guys enjoy!

Series Masterlist

DECEMBER 1

Desk Delivery!

Starting today, consider your desk a treasure trove of surprises.

‘Tis the season of giving, after all, and your radiant presence in the office deserves to be celebrated.

Each gift is carefully chosen, a small reflection of the little things I love about you. I hope they bring a smile to your face and add a sprinkle of magic to your December days.

Stay curious,

Your Secret Admirer (or would Secret Santa fit the season?)

You almost laugh out loud, blinking at the note sitting on your desk. This must be a joke, right?

“What is that?” Karina digs her chin into your shoulder, reading the note from behind you.

“Some joke,” you reply, letting her pluck the card from your fingertips.

She pouts, “But it’s cute!”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” you counter, taking the card back.

“I just don’t believe it’s real.”

DECEMBER 3

Today, you arrive at the office greeted with a small, neatly wrapped cube on your desk and you’re beginning to think that the message you were given on the 1st wasn’t a joke and that, whoever it was, was being serious.

You glance around the office to see if any of your coworkers were present, but you seemed to be the first one there. Your brows furrow, carefully sliding the box toward you before ripping the wrapping paper.

You use your office scissors to slice the tape open, and then once you are sure you can open the box to see what was in it, you take a deep breath in. You push the box away from you so it’s at arm’s length, afraid that something was going to pop out when you lift the flaps open. Counting to three in your head, you ready your fingers to lift the covers after the third count.

Fully expecting there to be fake snakes of some sort, you were met with nothing (thankfully). You pull the box back and peek in to find a mug and a card. Your brows furrow, pulling the card out first.

I know how much you love that mug of yours, Y/N…

But it’s time to retire that broken one.

Got you a new one. Hope you like it!

Your Secret Admirer

You can’t help but giggle at the tone of the writer, placing the card down before going for the mug. You’ve been teased maybe once or twice for using a mug with no handle, mostly because you’ve been complaining about how the edges of the glass edges left behind by the absent handles had been poking at your palm.

Carefully, you fish the cup out of the box, making sure you won’t drop and shatter the present before you can even use it, and you use your other hand to pull the box off. And when you finally get a good look at the mug, you laugh out loud, bringing it up to eye level to get a good look at it.

It was the exact same mug you already have been using, the only difference was that this one actually had a handle.

You were so caught up in your present that you didn't notice Karina approaching you, “Morning, smiley face.”

“Huh?” you blink at her, confused.

“I would take a picture of you right now, but I’m too lazy,” she huffs, “But you’re smiling like a child on Christmas Day.” Karina blatantly points at your face, “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

You shrug but gesture to the card and the mug, “I don’t think that first one was a joke…”

DECEMBER 4

“Hey! Hey, Y/N!”

You hear someone call your name, but you don’t actually hear it. It was sort of like background noise to your thoughts, entering one ear and leaving the other.

“Y/N! Hey!”

Then, you feel something rough hit the side of your face and you realize that Karina was peeking over the wall of her cubicle and into yours.

“What the fuck do you want!” you whisper. You pick up the balled-up scrap paper she had thrown before throwing it back to her, “I’m trying to work!”

She dodges the ball with ease, head briefly disappearing then reappearing, “Do you have any candidates for who your secret admirer could be?”

Karina was speaking a little bit too loud for your liking, so you gestured for her to come closer. She doesn’t hesitate to leave her workspace to enter yours, sitting down on an empty spot on your desk, “So? Candidates?”

You shake your head, “Barely. I was only able to pick out that the writing is a guy’s writing because the girls have neat writing… Other than that, I have nothing.”

The two letters sitting on your desk were your only explicit clues. Then, you had the thing with the mug, but everyone knew of your broken mug. So really, it was just the handwriting that you had as insight.

“Okay, so it’s a guy…” Karina hums. She stretches her neck to glance around the office, “And there’s only like… seven? It wouldn’t be difficult to eliminate some of them.” She picks up your two cards to examine the cards. You can see her eyes move back and forth between the letters, pressing her lips into a thin line. “It’s not Renjun.”

“Huh? How do you know that?”

“He handwrites,” Karina states, “Like straight-up longhand writing. So it’s not him.”

“How do you know he’s not just changing up his writing so it’s not obvious?” you narrow your eyes.

Karina laughs, “Okay, you have a point, but let’s just say that he’s out temporarily, to make it easier on us. In the case that everyone else is out, then it’s Renjun.”

You don’t notice the way your face scrunches up, your facial features pushing in toward your nose.

“Hey, what’s with the face?” Karina’s head tilts to the side. It takes a beat and a half before she realizes, “Wait, you don’t want it to be Renjun, do you?”

You don’t answer, mostly because you didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t want Renjun to be your admirer—no offense to him. Renjun was a great guy, but he wasn’t someone who you saw yourself being with. And if you were to actually build a relationship with this person, you didn’t want it to be Renjun.

An all-knowing smirk appears on Karina’s face, “Then who do you want it to be?”

You want to throw a punch at Karina’s knee, but you remember you are still in the workplace and you need to keep it (at least a little bit) professional. “Fuck you, you already know the answer to that.”

Jeno, Karina thinks.

“Of course you want it to be him,” Karina puts the cards back down, “I should have known. You’re down bad for that man.”

Karina wasn’t wrong. You and Jeno go way back to your internship days, and your (hopeless) crush on him has been there since then.

“Down bad for who?”

From seemingly out of nowhere, Chenle appears at the corner of your cubicle, leaning against it as he takes a sip of his coffee. And of course, wherever Chenle was, Jisung followed, standing right next to the former.

“Uh, that-that one actor!” you lie in a panic, “From that one show!”

“You suck at lying,” Chenle snorts, “You could have at least named someone. It could have been Nam Joohyuk for all I care.”

“It’s not you guys if that’s what you’re thinking,” Karina snickers, “Sorry, boys.”

Jisung and Chenle burst out laughing, almost comically in sync. They even threw in a high-five, though it was out of habit. “No offense, Y/N, but I don’t see you in that light.” Chenle is practically in tears.

“No offense, Chenle, but I don’t either,” you reply, “Now can you guys please leave my space or I’m reporting you guys to Taeyong.” And that sends them away because it wasn’t the first time they’ve been reported.

“Okay so we can scratch those two off the list,” Karina concludes.

And you nod.

So far, so good. This should be easy.

DECEMBER 8

Okay, it wasn’t as easy as you thought.

All your interactions with the other guys were normal. None of them seemed suspicious enough for you to star, nor did any of them do anything that ruled themselves off your list, and you had to admit, it was frustrating.

Of all the boys, the most suspicious was Jaemin, who snickered every time he passed your desk. But when you mentioned this to Karina, Karina pointed out that Jaemin was like that in general, always up to his own shenanigans like Donghyuck was.

“That or he knows something,” Karina thinks, “We should ask him.”

It was nearing the end of the day and you and Karina were sitting at one of the open tables by the floor’s wall of windows, mugs in hand while you carefully eyed the boys of the department.

Karina’s about to walk up to Jaemin when you stop her, pinching her blouse to keep her from leaving, “I don’t think Jaemin’s stupid enough to spill anything if we ask. We have to make it subtle.”

“Subtle, how?”

You shrug, “Just subtle.”

“Subtle, how?” Karina repeats.

You want to bonk her in the head, “I guess pretend like you don’t really care, maybe say you think it’s Renjun or something and see what he says.”

Let’s say Jaemin really did know who your admirer was. If Karina were to think it was someone else, she could note the way Jaemin would react to her guesses and you both can go from there.

You shoo her away and let her do her thing, staying back to pretend you were watching cars drive past down below.

In 8 days, the only clues you were able to gather included the fact that he was a boy, he worked on this floor (the mug thing), he liked to end his J’s in loop de loops, and there was always some type of water or coffee stain on the cards.

The last clue was something you and Karina had just recently discovered, simply because the first few cards were wrinkled in the slightest with water, while the most recent one, today's, had been stained with a drop of coffee.

You’re not sure if these were purposeful or accidental, but nonetheless, you and Karina took any details as clues, hoping that it would lead to a conclusion.

“You haven’t blinked for a while.”

“Shit, I didn’t hear you come,” you greet Jeno with an awkward smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, “I was just deep in thought.”

Jeno’s eyes disappear when he smiles and your stomach does that thing it does when he does so. It’s so stupid how you’re feeling like a giddy high schooler around this man, but you’ll defend yourself any day and blame him for everything.

“Is it about your secret admirer?” Jeno questions. He’s facing the window and you’re facing him. You can see him peeking at you through the corner of his eye and he’s smiling teasingly.

Your eyes widen, “Wait, how do you know about that?” You haven’t told anyone but Karina, Chenle, and Jisung, the last two only earning the information for being the most persistent duo on the planet.

“Word gets around,” he shrugs, “And I pass your desk to and from the elevator.”

You’re guessing the two younger boys had let it slip out but you disregard them for now, “Oh… right…”

“So, what about him?” Jeno questions.

“Just… I don’t know who it is….”

Jeno turns to you and you’re taken aback by how tired he looks. Sure, everyone in this damn office repped the good ‘ol panda eyes, but Jeno’s hair was a bit dishevelled, eyes half closed from fatigue. You choose not to point it out.

Jeno’s words register in your head and your brows furrow, “Wait… how do you know they’re a he? I didn’t say anything about him unless…” You don’t quite notice the way Jeno freezes up only because he wasn’t moving much beforehand. “Unless you know who he is!”

Jeno shakes his head, “Jisung told me!”

“I didn’t tell Jisung anything.” “You probably told Karina who told Chenle who told Jisung!” At this point, Jeno’s heart is beating at an erratically fast pace and he’s about to panic until Karina returns. She’s pouting, a tinge of disappointment evident on her face and Jeno takes this as his chance to escape.

“What did Jaemin say?” Your attention is easily pulled away from your friend, “Did he say anything?”

“No,” Karina grumbles, “I accidentally let it slip out that this was about your admirer and all he said was, 'Secret admirer, huh? Wouldn't you like to know.'” Karina mocks Jaemin’s voice, rolling her eyes. “But I guess that just proves that he knows something… it’ll just be harder to get it out of him.”

“Jeno’s being suspicious now, too,” you nod your head to the boy.

Sure it could be implied that your admirer was one of the guys, but the way the man had handled your questions was definitely something to take note of.

DECEMBER 10

“Please tell me you’ll be leaving after you finish this?” Another one of your coworkers, Minjeong, was standing at the edge of your cubicle, leaning against the divider. You can tell she’s ready to leave, hands stuffed deep into her pockets, “Everyone’s left besides Mr. Jo.”

Mr. Jo was the custodian.

“I will, I promise.” You don’t even look up from your screen, waving your hand in her direction as if it would make her scurry away, “I’m almost done. Have a good night, Jeongie!”

She returns your farewell and leaves, knowing that you won’t budge until you finish your task.

You genuinely were near completion. You just had a few more points in the report to finish before you reached your goal for tonight and you’ll go home.

Your fingers are flying across your keyboard, fatigued eyes blinking at the words you were producing in hopes that they were coherent. Your brain had shut down an hour ago and now you were on autopilot.

Who cares if it’s coherent if I’m going to edit it anyway? You think. And now you were carelessly typing, making typos left and right.

When you finally finish the draft, you grab your mug from your coaster to put in the office’s sink. Your eyes finally catch a break from staring at the screen for so long, practically feeling your ocular muscles relax. Closing your eyes, you blindly make your way down the pathway, which honestly was easy after the amount of times you’ve made your way down it.

But when your feet hit something that was obviously not as hard as a cubicle wall you freeze.

Shit.

Your eyes fly open and quickly look at what you have unintentionally kicked.

“Jeno?” You blink your eyes a couple times to make sure you aren’t just seeing things.

Sprawled out on his desk was Jeno, fast asleep. There was a small pond of drool underneath his cheek, mouth hanging open. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jeno.” You feel the need to whisper now, leaning over to shake his shoulder. “Jeno!”

He begins to stir, “Huh? Wha?”

“What are you still doing here?” you ask.

One eye stuck closed, he glances around the empty office. The side that he had been lying on was flat as if he had been in that position for a while. Jeno yawns and stretches, his back popping a little as he sits up.

"I was waiting for you to finish," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

You glance at the clock on his computer screen, realizing it's much later than you thought. "Jeno, it's getting late. You didn’t need to wait for me."

He shrugs, a sleepy smile on his face. "I didn't want you to go home alone in the dark. Plus, I figured you might need some company."

You hit him on the shoulder, “You dumbass!”

Jeno winces even though you didn’t even hit him too hard. “Ow!”

“I didn’t even know you were here! Dumbass!” You throw another thwack at his shoulder blade, “You’re lucky I tripped over your foot!” Jeno ignores you and starts getting up, pulling out his packed bag underneath his desk, “You should’ve told me you were gonna wait for me.”

“Yeah, but then you would’ve pushed me onto the elevator so that I could leave,” Jeno replies. "Ready to head home?"

Although you and Jeno don’t live anywhere near each other, your place was on the way to his. Usually, you’d walk home and go sightseeing as you walked past the small shops on the way, but because the weather could freeze your arteries shut, you’re forced to transit home.

"Sure, let's go." You pack up your things quickly, and the two of you head towards the elevator.

As you wait for the elevator doors to open, you glance at Jeno. His eyes are still a bit heavy with sleep, but there's a warmth in them that makes your heart flutter. When he notices you looking, he tightens his lips to give you a tired grin that reaches his eyes. The office is quiet now, only the hum of the elevator breaking the silence.

Once inside, Jeno presses the button for the ground floor, and the elevator starts its descent. The dim lighting casts a soft glow on both of you, and you can't help but appreciate the peaceful moment.

"Long day, huh?" Jeno breaks the silence, his tone sympathetic. “Your secret admirer mystery still bothering you?"

You chuckle and nod, "Yes. But it just makes me more determined to figure it out."

"Any progress?" Jeno raises an eyebrow, curious.

You shake your head, "Not really. It's driving me crazy."

"Maybe it's someone you least expect," Jeno suggests with a playful smile.

"Maybe," you reply, unsure. The elevator doors open, and you both step out and into the nearly empty office lobby. Then you think out loud, eyes narrowing as you look at Jeno through your lashes, “Maybe it’s you.”

The cold wind hits you as you exit the building, making you shiver. You pull your coat tighter around you, and Jeno does the same.

“Why? Do you want it to be me?” Jeno smirks playfully.

“I don’t know,” you lie, “I’m just asking because there’s a possibility it’s you. Besides Chenle and Jisung, you’re the only one willingly asking about him.” That really couldn’t even mean anything, but it’s suspicious. You’re starting to think this was a joke set up by all the guys, and you’re the target.

“Nope, it’s not me,” Jeno stares ahead of you both, and you miss the way he swallows his spit when he says it, “And I don’t know who it is either. That’s why I’m asking.”

You look at him to detect if Jeno was lying—maybe a nose twitch, multiple blinks, or a dishonest glance to the side—nothing.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and not in the way you liked. Because, sure, you didn’t care about who this person was, but for the past week and a half, you’ve been raising your hopes that it was Jeno who had been leaving these presents for you.

You realize that that was a mistake.

A weak laugh shoots out your mouth, almost sounding like a huff and you force a smile on your face, “Well… that’s a relief.”

DECEMBER 15

Losing a bit of interest in your admirer just because it wasn’t the person you wanted it to be wasn’t fair to your actual admirer. Especially when they were still putting the effort into dropping off those presents and writing those letters.

The day after, you had told Karina that Jeno made it clear that your admirer wasn’t him and she refused to believe it, delusion taking over for your sake. She said something along the lines of ‘can’t say it’s not Jeno until there’s solid proof’.

This morning you decided to switch up your strategy and arrive at work early. For the past 2 weeks, these little deliveries had appeared on your desk either after you left or before you arrived, and since you had kept track of who left the office yesterday evening, you were sure that he was going to be coming in early this morning to leave his present.

You greet the security guard in the lobby, leaving your mouth more as a yawn than an actual sentence before you hop onto the elevator and cross your fingers for luck.

The office is quiet and dimly lit as you enter, the only sound being the gears of the elevators turning as the doors slide open. Once you step out, you’re quick to scan the room before ultimately settling your gaze on your desk.

The universe couldn’t have timed this any better.

Standing at your desk, you see a figure, gently placing a wrapped box on your desk. You hold back a gasp, clamping your mouth shut with your palm, not wanting to bring attention to yourself. The man appeared oblivious to the elevator letting someone off, his back still turned to you.

You catch the sound of his satisfied hum, and just before he pivots, you quickly move to a concealed hallway, keeping yourself out of sight. A lingering fear holds you back from confronting whoever this person is, but you so badly want to know who it is. You figured it would make the confronting part easier.

Footsteps grow closer before they stop, and you can easily guess he’s standing in front of the elevators. With curiosity getting the best of you, you risk being seen and lean your head around the corner, just enough so that one of your eyes can see who the boy was.

Another gasp attempts to leave your mouth when you finally recognize who it was.

Jaemin?

The elevator arrives at your floor before you can even process that it was truly him you just saw, almost as if you’ve seen his ghost and he was gone before you knew it.

So your secret admirer was Na Jaemin?

In a way it made sense. You and Karina had ruled him as one of the more suspicious ones. He and Jeno were close, so Jeno being curious about your progress added up. Now you have solid proof that Jaemin actually was your secret admirer.

How were you going to let him down easily?

DECEMBER 19

Despite having the weekend and Karina's assistance to strategize how to break the news to Jaemin, you found yourself at work on Monday without a clear plan. Today, you mentally braced yourself for another gift, feeling a pang of guilt as you realized your friend and coworker had been investing so much effort, only for his feelings to not be returned.

Today’s box was slim and rectangular, wrapped in the paper you’ve grown familiar with. At first glance, it looked like a wine box, but you quickly deemed it too short to be a wine bottle.

With a bit of hesitation, you carefully pick at the paper, ripping it open before you slice the tape that was keeping the box closed. Then you pry the box open, flipping the flaps over so that you can see the item from a bird’s eye view.

Huh?

You pull it out—an umbrella in your favourite colour. On the handle, your initials are engraved into the plastic. The umbrella looked beautiful, but considering the other presents, this was… random.

Your eyes catch sight of a card at the bottom of the box and you stick your arm in to fish it out.

I bet you’re curious as to who I am, right?

I think I kept you waiting far too long for a hint.

A hint?

Your heart picks up its pace and your eyes scramble to keep reading.

Today’s gift? An umbrella.

Bought one for myself and one for you because we need to be prepared next time.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t enjoy being drenched in rain at work.

Your Secret Admirer

A hint.

Hell, it was more than a hint.

Your eyes grow wide as you reread the note over and over, your heartbeat fluttering. It flutters because you know exactly what your admirer was talking about.

Back during the rainy season, the morning you were getting ready for work, you completely disregarded the weather forecast and left your house without an umbrella or an appropriate coat. And much to your stupidity, you told yourself that it wasn’t going to rain that hard when you heeded the darker clouds in the sky.

You realized your mistakes on the walk to work when rain started pouring down from the sky, like someone dumping a bucket of rainwater all over you. You were sprinting, sight impaired by the rain pelting your face, flying past other individuals who had been smart enough to pack heavy-duty umbrellas with them.

Luckily, you finally arrived at your building before you were wet to the bone. When you noticed the elevator was still open, you called out for it, fast-walking through the lobby just so you could catch it.

“Thanks,” you had sighed out, huffing in relief.

The man who had held the elevator open for you laughed and spoke up, “I take it you forgot an umbrella too?”

You laugh at the memory, remembering being thankful that you weren’t the only dumbass who didn’t bring an umbrella—that you weren’t going to be the only one on the floor who would be showing up soaked and dripping wet.

Because Jeno was that other dumbass.

Even with this realization, with this hard evidence that your admirer could actually be Jeno, you still recount your almost-encounter with Jaemin and the fact that Jeno had denied your accusations.

You find yourself caught in a web of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the thoughtful gesture of the umbrella brings back memories of that rainy morning with Jeno. On the other hand, the recent revelation and Jeno's denial cast a shadow of doubt on the identity of your secret admirer.

As you stand there, staring at the umbrella, your brain cells are desperately trying to think up a good explanation for all of this. The evidence seems to point to Jeno, yet you can't ignore the possibility that this might be an elaborate misdirection. Or maybe Jaemin was the misdirection?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the familiar voice of Karina, who has just gotten off the elevator. She notices the umbrella in your hands and grins, "Mr. Admirer? An umbrella?"

You manage a half-smile, the weight of the situation pressing on you. "It’s a hint. There’s a memory tied to it.”

Karina arches an eyebrow, intrigued. "Memory?"

You decide to share the story of that rainy morning with Jeno, how both of you got caught in the downpour without umbrellas. As you recount the details, Karina listens attentively, connecting the dots between the past and the present.

"So, you think Jeno might be your secret admirer because of this shared memory?" she asks, thoughtful. The way her expression brightens at the thought of your admirer actually being Jeno and not Jaemin—just like you wanted.

You shrug, uncertain. "It makes sense, right? But then there's the whole denial part. He flat-out said it's not him."

Karina leans against the reception desk, crossing her arms. "He probably just didn’t want you to find out like that. Maybe he's trying to surprise you later. Who knows?"

You sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity. "I just want to know. I’m this close to banging my head against the corner of my desk."

Karina snorts and nudges you playfully. "Confront him again but this time, give him no choice but to confess."

You consider Karina's suggestion, realizing that confronting Jeno might be the only way to unravel this mystery. Gathering your resolve, you decide to have a direct conversation with him, determined to get to the bottom of your secret admirer's identity.

DECEMBER 20

Who would’ve thought that confronting your secret admirer would be nerve-wracking? Cause what if it really wasn’t Jeno and you were making a fool out of yourself?

It’s your break and you’re sitting at one of the lounge tables with Karina and Minjeong, playing with the edge of your instant ramen cup.

You’re replaying how you want the situation to go down in your head. You want to go up to him, make small talk, he small talks back, you confront him, and he admits it—easier said than done. But your goal was to do it by the end of the day, mostly because you know that if you kept this going for any longer, you’d actually go crazy.

Minjeong and Karina are talking about something, you’re not quite sure what it was when Ningning joins in, “Did Giselle pass by?”

Karina shakes her head, “Haven’t seen her.”

Ningning pouts, “I was going to ask her someth—”

And again, you tune them out—not on purpose.

The voice in your head is screaming Jeno repeatedly and it’s driving you insane. You want it to stop, but the only way you can do so is by confronting him.

Then the door opens again and in comes Jeno and Jaemin, laughing about something Donghyuck and Mark related. Karina notices the way your eyes divert toward their direction and she tries to catch your attention, jerking her head in their direction. Eyes widening, you shake your head as if you were saying not now.

“Shit, I got coffee on my shirt,” you hear Jeno huff.

From where you were sitting, you could see Jeno turning to show Jaemin the coffee stain on his white shirt, pouting. Jaemin laughs, “That’s what you get for using a broken bottle. Just buy a new one.”

Jeno pouts, “You buy one for me, then.”

At first, you don’t pay attention to their conversation, passing it off as the usual banter between the two, but then it clicks. Your mouth speaks before you can even process everything, “It’s you!”

The room grows silent but, frankly, you don’t care because now you’re sure it was Jeno.

Other than the umbrella and the memory, the only other hint other than handwriting were the water and coffee stains that the cards were always covered in (and you and Karina were still unsure whether that was on purpose or not).

Jeno’s bottle was broken.

You rise abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. Rounding the tables, you navigate toward to get to Jeno, heart beating against your rib cage. Once he is within your reach, you snatch him by the wrist and drag him out of the lounge room and into the hallway.

“Dumbass!” you smack his shoulder, “It was you! Liar!” You weren’t angry, in fact, you were laughing, disbelief etched on your face.

Jeno looks off to the side, “I… don’t know what you’re talking about…” He’s horribly holding a smile back, cheekbones growing prominent from his attempt.

“Don’t play dumb,” you say, “The umbrella hint was enough for me to know it was you!”

Jeno unleashes his smile, physically shrinking and lowering his head as his cheeks grow hot from your statement. “I didn’t think you’d remember it that easily…”

"You've been driving me insane, you know that?" You shake your head, still processing the revelation. "I even thought it was Jaemin for a bit. All this time, it was you!"

“Did you… want it to be Jaemin?”

You shake your head, “Honestly, I was relieved it was you… no offense to Jaemin. Why didn’t you admit to it when I asked you?”

“Probably a similar reason for why you said ‘that’s a relief’ when I said it wasn’t me,” Jeno counters, slowly regaining his confidence.

You chuckle, realizing the playful banter unfolding between you and Jeno. "Good point."

He grins, "Plus, watching you try to figure it out was entertaining." There’s a mischievous glint in Jeno’s eyes as he's holding back a smile.

You cross your arms, glaring up at him, "So you enjoyed torturing me?"

Jeno panics slightly, shaking his head, "No! It’s not like I was torturing you! It was just something fun! I liked seeing your reactions!"

You playfully roll your eyes. "You're lucky I like you."

Jeno freezes, “Wait, you like me like me?”

You look at Jeno as if he just said the dumbest shit that’s ever come out of someone’s mouth. “Lee Jeno, I literally told you I was relieved it was you and you think I don’t have feelings for you?” You want to smack him again.

“Yes?”

Smack.

“Ow!” Jeno rubs his arm and frowns.

“Of course I like you!” You’re looking up at Jeno, “I was working my ass off trying to figure out who my admirer was because I had hopes that it was you!”

Jeno's eyes widen with surprise, and then a broad grin stretches across his face. "You... really?" he stammers, almost disbelieving, “So would… this be the right time to ask you on a date?”

You stuck out your bottom lip and shrug, half-joking, “I mean… it’s the least you can do after putting me through all that.”

“You’re right,” Jeno laughs. He takes a step closer, looking down at you with the world’s prettiest smile, “So will you?”

“Will I, what?” you tease, staring back up at him.

“Will you go out with me?”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @reignessance

an: the answer is yes 👀,,, Felix's is up next and it's gonna be cute

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crazystargirl · 7 months

Note

omg hiiii! i missed you! I honestly wish you would write a fic where jack and reader get caught kissing by either the avatar crew or the scream crew...or both tbh and then jack gets all flustered and awkward and yn is just like "yeah i did that"

I just thought it was a cute idea especially with your writing. No rush! I'm so glad your back and I hope you feel better now

lovebirds!

pairing ! - jack champion x reader

word count ! - 0.6k

a/n ! - hi babe!! sorry my hiatus was so long 😭 but i am feeling much better now since ive been distancing myself from some of the ppl that im in a somewhat toxic relationship with. but i hope you like this since i might be a little rusty lmao, this is also somewhat of a sequel to take one

after meeting on the set of avatar 2, you and jack were very close to one another and your relationship got even better when you both found out you had roles in scream 6

jack was playing one of the ghostfaces, ethan landry, and you were playing his love interest who knew all about his family's little secret

you guys grew close to the cast, but chose to keep your relationship private since if there was one thing you knew about jack, it was that he got VERY flustered when people started teasing him about you and would basically just give away the whole secret

that's why the avatar cast knew about your relationship and which is why you made jack keep your relationship a secret from the scream cast

and it worked out just fine, you guys acted like a goofy duo in public and a couple who seemed really in love in private

until you decided one day that jack looked WAYYYY too kissable in his halloween outfit

you two were sitting on the set of the house where the frat party was taking place, jack in his murder party costume and you in the lavender fairy outfit

there was a few issues with the set that they were fixing and jenna, jasmin, and devyn were going over lines which left you very bored

jack nudged you with a small grin

"you look so bored out of your mind right now"

you turn to him with a smirk and he knew damn well you had an idea that he wasn't going to agree with but would go along with any way since he loved you so much

"well i am…can we go back to your trailer?"

"y/n/n…"

jack gave you a knowing look but still allowed you to drag him to his trailer

he sat down and you quicky sat next to him, kissing him as he swatted you away but was also bringing you closer at the same time?

"y/n your makeup is gonna get ruined…" jack murmured as you pulled away for air

"jack it's ok! they can just redo it" you replied, going in for another kiss and jack gave in, pulling you on his lap

you kept kissing for what felt like hours and you two were in your own little world that you didn't even hear devyn and jenna giggling and approaching the trailer

suddenly the door slams open and you hear jenna gasp and devyn squeal in excitement

"fuck fuck fuck" jack mutters, getting you off of his lap before one of them could get the other cast members to come

he stood up, pulling you up with him just as mason and jasmin came

"so we caught the two lovebirds kissing" devyn says with a grin as jenna nods excitedly

jack shakes his head and gets flustered but you on the other hand? you couldn't be more fazed

"ok yeah we were kissing, we're dating so what's the problem?"

everyone looks at you in shock even jack, not expecting you to be so straight forward with your relationship

"oh um nothing! it's just we're all shocked" mason replied, scratching the back of his neck

"we'll leave you two love birds now, just don't give her a hickey!" jasmin says, walking out as mason, jenna, and devyn follow her

devyn slams the door shut and jack looks down at you, feeling flustered

"well that was um"

you giggle and pull him down for a kiss, which he gladly accepted to soothe him from the shock of whatever the fuck he just witnessed

taglist ! - @xyzstar, @gwenlore, @dizscreams, @kaesworldxx, @urmomcomsiimiamour, @nonniesworld, @chemtr4ilz, @abodyhasbeenfound, @phsychobanana

lmk if you want to be added/removed !

©crazystargirl || do NOT copy or repost without my permission

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry angst #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x you #jack champion fluff #jack champion x y/n #jack champion angst

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whose-lozerrr · 3 months

Text

Nothing big just Bachira being clingy like the baby he is:

Ever since you got with Bachira he's been way more clingy. Like wayyyy more. You could be focusing on winning your video game and he'll take it outta your hands just to cuddle you, or you could be talking to your friends on the phone so he'll softly take your phone and tell your friend that you're busy and that you'll call them back later.

But right now: you were getting ready for work since you were excited because today you were gonna get an award for all your hard work. And as you're putting your finishing accessories for your outfit, Bachira walks in looking all giddy.

"Oh, Bachira. I forgot to tell you but we can't hang out today because I have to go to work." You say studying how you look in the mirror, not once turning to look at his reaction. "Whatttt?? Can I come with you???" As he says that you turn around, and walk towards him, only to be grabbed by your waist and pulled closer. "No, Bachira. I'm sorry but you can't. Since it's just a small little get together, we can't bring anyone who's not in the company." He looks at you sadly, pouting just a small bit.

As you try to back away to continue getting ready, Bachira's grip on you tightens but not too much cause he still doesn't wanna hurt you. "Um, Bachira. Can you please let go of me?" You look at him softly but what you don't know is that he's holding himself back from you. He softly leans his down to the nape of your neck and starts leaving small kisses all on it.

You giggle softly but quickly grab his face to pull him away. "Bachira, please. I promise when I come back, I'll give you all the kisses or cuddles you want." You say ruffling his soft brown-yellowish hair. He sighs softly as he loosens his grip on you, allowing you to slip away from his grasp to look at your finished outfit in the mirror. He sits down on the bed and just stares at you.

After you finish putting on your shoes, you quickly grab all your essentials and go to the front door as Bachira follows. You turn around to face your 176cm boyfriend as he roughly kisses you. You push him away since you don't wanna get too lost in his kisses. "I'll be back soon, okay. I love you" You say before you open the door. "I love you more!" He says right before you shut the door.

But make sure to smother him in kisses and cuddles when you come back or he'll be super grumpy to you.

AN: If u have anything you want me to write since I'm barely starting lol. Just suggest it to me! <333

#blue lock #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #blue lock bachira #bllk x reader #bachira x you #bllk x you #bllk fluff #bachira fluff

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hazybisou · 1 year

Text

TOOTHLESS

blurb

reader x jack hughes

summary: y/n finds out through twitter that jack has lost a tooth and calls to see for herself.

a/n: IT MADE ME CACKLE HELLA HARD!! like imagine the lisp he’s gonna have 😭😭 it’s gonna be hella cute but wayyyy too fucking funny. also i js had to write this like cmon 🤣🤣

jack was away in Raleigh for the second game of round two of the stanley cup playoffs against the carolina hurricanes. you stayed home due to have finals but were still able to watch the first game.

you were finishing up homework while watching the second game, the score being 1-4, the canes winning. you finished typing up your essay when you got a text from your friend, jane.

janey boo 🙃

did you see?!!

you

see what?

janey boo 🙃

JACK LOST HIS TOOTH

you

WDYM HE LOST HIS TOOTH

janey boo 🙃

i was scrolling through tiktok and saw a picture of jack missing his front tooth to the sound bigger than the whole sky

you

BAHHHHHAHAHAHA

WAIT OMG THATS SO RUDE

poor jack

BUT LIKE IWHSHABXSJ

OMG IMA GO LOOK

janey boo 🙃

woody and mercer and jack are now the toothless trio

you

THEYRE TRIPLETS HOW CUTE

ANYWAYS BYE

you couldn’t help the little laughs and giggles that escaped. you open up twitter and search up ‘jack hughes’ and clicking on ‘latest’. you scroll down and can’t help but burst out laughing. you probably looked crazy right now but this news was too funny.

you look up and notice the game has ended, the canes winning 6-1. you decided to wait a couple minutes, knowing it would only be a matter of seconds until jack would text you, something along the lines of ‘i just got out of the arena’.

a couple of minutes later, you’re phone dinged and you saw it was jack who texted. it said ‘hey i just left and am headed back to the hotel’. you don’t respond as you immediately go and click on his contact before the phone started ringing.

“hello?”

“hey babe, just wanted to let you know that you played great tonight. m’ sorry about the loos,” you told him syntactically.

jack smiled on the other end, “thanks. i appreciate it. anyways, what were you doing?” you noticed he had a small lisp. it was cute. his words sounded like a little kindergartners.

you just smiled at the question, knowing jack would always ask about your day and how it went. “oh i was just finishing up some homework. nothing much. why?”

“just wanted to know,” jack responds. you look down at your phone and realize he’s facetiming. you slide the button and are met with the ceiling of his car. you hear the jingle of keys and rustling before he picks his phone up and his face comes in view. “hi.”

“hi.” you respond back. “whatcha doing?”

he smiled. “nothing. just gonna head to the hotel before getting to see you again.”

the smile on your face grew even bigger before you remembered why you called him so fast. “hey jack?” he perked up and hummed. “could you smile at me real quick?”

jack looked at you suspiciously before shrugging and showing you a toothy grin. you just giggled before small laughs started to come out and soon you were cackling.

jack looked confused.

by the time you were done laughing tears began to fall from how hard you were laughing. “oh jack..your tooth.” you finally told him.

he finally got it and just began to pout. “it’s not funny.” he remarked.

“just a little bit. it’s ok though.” you told him. “it’s cute. especially your lisp.”

jack’s cheeks turned pink at the comment. “stop, it’s not cute.” he still had the same pout on. you just started at him with loving eyes.

“jack, baby, it’s ok.” you cooed but he didn’t seem convinced. “you’re still the same jack it’s just you’ll be missing 2% of that smile i love so much.”

“i hate it though.” jack whined. “it makes me sound weird.”

you just stared at him. “it doesn’t matter jack, alright? i still love you and always will.”

“that helped a little.” you just laughed before continuing to talk.

“i have to go and study for that exam i have next week. just make sure you get back safely. call or text me when you’re at the hotel. i love you.”

“i love you too.” jack said back. you said your goodbyes before you hung up and went back to watching the tv. you kept laughing at the thought of jack coming home with a missing tooth.

idk if i hate or love this. but wtv. his tooth is now gone 😔😔 ALSO THE WAY LUKE COULDVE SAID MORE ABT JACKS TOOTH IF HE WANTED TO BUT KNEW JACK WOULD BEAT HIS ASS IF HE DID AND PROB TOLD HIM NOT TO SAY ANYTHING ABT IT IS JS SO FUNNY TO ME!! jack literally reminds me of a pirate with taht crusty ass heard 🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #nhl #new jersey devils #isa’s works

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lvrcpid · 1 year

Text

time travel.

in which the sully kids travel back in time ! this made me giggle while i was writing it 💀

“so what does it do? how does that little thing send you all the way back in time?” lo’ak asked, sitting himself up next to you.

“glad you asked lo’ak, this is time travel device just made and it’ll take you back to any time you want, with the help of this little watch here” norm held up the small circular disk and watch.

“the disk feels out how many people are on it and sizes out to fit! and you can adjust the time with the watch” max added from across the room.

“give me that!” lo’ak snatched the disk from norm and held it in his hand. “lo’ak stop! you’re gonna break it!” neteyam yelled, trying to get the disk out of lo’aks hands. “move dude! i’m just trying to see!”

“give me that. imbeciles.” you snatched the disk from their hands and handed it back to norm. “so , do you think we could give it a go?” kiri spoke up with a smile.

norm and max gave eachother a look. the ‘please don’t let these kids try it they will definitely mess up the space time continuum’ look.

“fine! im giving (y/n) the watch though..god knows what lo’ak or neteyam would do with it” norm placed the watch on your wrist, giving a few instructions of how to turn it back or forward.

max then trailed over and placed the disk down, you all stepping on it. oh yeah, ALL of the sully kids were going, even tuktirey!

“so guys where do we wanna go?” you asked, looking down at the watch and beginning to set it back a few years. “i wanna go see where mom and dad met!” tuk piped in, all of her siblings agreeing with her. “so that was about 17 years ago since they had me after they met…anddddd done!”

you smiled looking up at norm who nodded to the button on the watch. “be careful and remember not to speak to ANYONE, one wrong move and the space time continuum goes poof! and you guys don’t exist.” the sully kids fell silent. except lo’ak who reached over and pressed the button. “bye losers!” he yelled as you guys were transported.

“god lo’ak learn a bit of patience!” you all coughed, stepping off of the pad and watching as neteyam grabbed it. “the two oldest should have responsibility over it” he added, turning on his heels and walking away.

“neteyam wait up!! you heard what norm said if we even mess up the slightest thing we’re done for!” you ran up behind your younger brother, kiri holding tuk with lo’ak hot on your tails

“what does that even mean? and what the hell is a space time continuum” he spoke. you rolled your eyes and stopped in your tracks, turning to him with sigh “we talk to mommy and daddy, we go bye bye” you said in possibly the dumbest voice you could.

“oh shit” lo’ak laughed “oh shit is right-“ you all heard the sound of a creature in the woods, immediately ducking. “shit!” kiri gasped, covering her mouth before you all moved over to a big tree.

you made the initiative to lean over the tree to see what happened. you see two na’vi, one who looked native and one who had clothes like norm and max.

you squinted before recognizing who the two people were. it was your mom and dad, they were younger, wayyyy younger. “god is that mom and dad?!” lo’ak whisper yelled, immediately getting shushed by all of you.

neytiris neck snapped towards the tree as you all cowered behind it. taking a sigh of relief when jake began to speak to her.

you all watched in amazement as your mom seemingly HATED your dad. “love at first sight my ass..” neteyam whispered to you, earning a small giggle and stifling back laughter as she hit him with her bow, watching him fly to the ground with a quick “damn!”

it made you wonder. he used to be fun. what happened to him. that’s not the dad YOU know.

“mommy don’t hurt daddy!!” tuk began to walk out to her parents that aren’t her parents just yet, forgetting the FIRST rule norm gave them. jake and neytiri turn to the scene but before they could catch a glimpse of tuktirey, you’re pulling her back and covering her mouth.

neytiri began to slowly stalk over to the tree you all were hiding behind. “eywa this is it! i’m gonna cease to exist!” lo’ak whispered. you began to set the watch back to modern time while neteyam threw down the launch pad quickly , you all stepping on it and you quickly pushing the button , traveling back to your time.

you all stepped off the launch pad and look a long sigh, stumbling over in the lab as you all caught your breaths. you all almost didn’t exist, that was nerve wracking.

“that was fast, told you they wouldn’t last even 20 minutes” max laughed and looked at the sully kids storm out of the lab.

“what happened who messed up?” norm laughed , clutching his stomach.

“tuktirey! i’m never time traveling with her ever again!”

tags 🏷️: @23victoria @avtprint @bucky12345 @boilingpots @Marcswife21 @elegantkidfansoul @itsyogurl @stars4deku @stvpidscvpid @uniltsatirey @urdeadpoet @Annamarieisbae @graysonmalik2550

#avatar #avatar x reader #awotw #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #kiri x reader #sully family x reader #neytiri x reader #loak x reader #tuk avatar #avatar way of water #avatar way of the water #avatar 2009

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your-goth-sis · 1 year

Note

it's me again lol, can I request Danny, Weskussy and Jake Park with a killer!fem reader that is kind of like a goddess? Like from ancient mythology, her realm is absolutely ethereal and she just has grace written all over her? if that makes sense

sending more kisses!! ilyy 💕💕

*bows respectfully* greetings and salutations! Ily TOOO :D also sorry if my writing is weird, I'm used to writing fanfiction of sadistic vampires and I'm wayyyy to used to their speech lmao. 😭💕👏

Danny Johnson

You're a what now?

He was flabbergasted.

He thinks your beautiful and melts at your beauty.

You even look graceful when killing the survivors, executing them in the most beautiful way possible.

He's a massive simp lmao

Though he's still arrogant and thinks he deserves to be with someone like you because of his wonderful "work" he's done on earth.

He wants to know your origin and everything

He visits your realm because he thinks it's extraordinary!

You'd hold him once he visits, even your hugs are melting him to death.

Wesker (The Weskussy)

We all know Wesker has a god complex

He will definitely try to put you in your place, to no avail.

You're simply stronger and better, putting him in his place immediately.

He'd scoff "Well, Dearheart, it seems as if I've lost and fallen for... Your bewitchingly good looks"

You'd smirk in return "Good boy, Albert"

He thinks (knows) that you're gorgeous, and would do anything to be with you, even if it meant fighting the Entity everyday and losing.

Jake Park

He's too stunned at your beauty, so stunned that he cannot run away

His legs instead carries him to you

You take him in your arms "What's wrong, man?"

He snaps out his daze, panic rising through him

You chuckle "You're my pet now~"

He's stunned tbh

He looks at your face that looks sadistic, yet has grace written all over it.

You'd give him hatch every trail and in return, he'd bring you flowers from the Entity's realm... However they're dead, you giggle knowing it's the thought that counts

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd #dead by daylight #Jake Park #Jake park x reader #Danny Johnson x reader #Ghostface x reader #Albert wesker x reader

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liminalpebble · 9 months

Note

Loki request: Loki and reader getting mani-pedis together.

Hello my dear @eleniblue! Thank you for the prompt. This is wayyyy outside of my usual style, but was a really great challenge so I hope you enjoy it.

CW: No smut, just one f-bomb, I think. Surprisingly wholesome considering what I usually write. But let's say Minors DNI to cover my ass.

Word count: 800 (lil shortie)

Very soft and bisexual Loki x gender neutral reader (just friendship, deeper feels if you squint), soooo fluffy

----

Wrapped Around Your Finger

“NO, Loki...no way,” you said between swigs from your water bottle. You'd been training in the Avengers' gym with him all morning, and now, a sweating, exhausted, hungry mess, you weren't in any mood for your fellow Avenger's antics.

It wasn't fair that what was an intensive, back-breaking regimen prescribed by the Black Widow herself was simply a walk in the park for his Asgardian body...and what a fucking body it was. But, as you had a thousand times before, you pushed the thought away.

“Darling....why not? Be a bit of a hedonist with me. Why must you insist on being so responsible and stoic?”

You gave him a warning glare and replied, “Because you only give me those sad puppy eyes and call me 'darling' when you're about to get me into trouble.”

He came closer to you, towering over you, but grinning that Cheshire cat grin that always disarmed you. He leaned down and purred into your ear with a mischeivous whisper, “Come on. Let's have a bit of fun, eh?”

That was the final straw. You knew you were wrapped around his lovely pale finger, with its shiny black nail.

----

“This...this is new,” you said gingerly, sinking your feet into the warm bath (which admittedly, felt amazing) and slid back into the comfortable leather chair. “I've never had a manicure or pedicure before,” you admitted.

“How could you not! It's so delightfulll,” he said drawing the last word out in a low purr. “Truly, since I've taken up residence on Midgard, this has been one of my favorite discoveries.” He sighed wistfully, eyes wondering around to take in the tastefully decorated high-end salon. “After losing my royal status it scratches a rather delicious itch to have someone waiting on me hand and foot in a luxurious setting.”

You rolled your eyes. “Have you always been such a diva?”

“Well, yes.” he said, without a hint of shame, surprised that you would even ask.

You giggled as the smiling technician began working a tickling pumice stone over the soles of your feet, and Loki chuckled along with you. He reached over and held your hand, meeting your eyes, and saying with surprising sincerity, “It really is good to hear you laugh again.”

Grinning you said, “Well, I have to admit. This is sort of fun, but it feels weird to be...well...waited on. Some of us aren't royalty.”

“Well, for now you can feel like you are. I knew you'd warm up to it,” he said just as two more technicians came over to begin on your hands. The one working on Loki's nails took up a friendly chat with him. He was clearly a regular.

After a bit, he looked thoughtfully back to you. “I wanted to do this for you as a gesture of gratitude. Of all of our colleagues, you've been the only one who listens to me and accepts me willingly, rather than out of begrudging necessity. Dare I say, you rather like being around me?” he said with peaked eyebrows and a bit of fragile hope in his voice.

“I do,” you replied, meeting his eyes. “I like our lunch dates, and how you drag me shopping, or to the movies. You even make training more tolerable. You get me out of my comfort zone.”

He scoffed. “My dear, we both know you can't be left to your own devices when it comes to fashion. You'd probably live in those...what are they called...'sweatpants'? How many novel experiences would you forgo if not for my encouragement?” he said, as he raised his long lovely hand and inspected his now perfectly shellac-ed nails. They gleamed like black patent leather with a layer of twinkling emerald glitter and gold flake; a striking contrast to his porcelain skin.

You gave him a knowing smirk. “You're fishing for compliments, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Indeed I am, poppet,” he confirmed, again, without an ounce of embarrassment.

“Your nails look spectacular,” you said, knowing he wanted more. And he gave you a disappointed look, hungry for more approval.

“And I am very glad to have your friendship. In fact, I might even say you're my best friend. The misfits of the team need to stick together, right?”

“Indeed they do,” he agreed with a regal nod. “And darling...”

“Yes?”

“I am also very fond of you,” he said, those big pale aquamarine eyes glimmered with confusing, exciting implication as they met yours.

Then he pulled back, smiling in faux-innocence, saying lightly, “Now...all finished. To brunch. Shall we?” and offered you his arm.

@queen-paladin @littlespaceyelf @goblingirlsarah @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @sweetsigyn @peaches1958 @muddyorbs @gigglingtiggerv2 @peacefulpianist @coldnique @holdmytesseract@infinitystoner @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @glitchquakee @ladyofthestayingpower @marcotheflychair @sarahscribbles @sailorholly @tripleyeeet @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @icytrickster17 @chokeanddagger @joyful-enchantress

#lovely asks #loki fanfic #loki drabble #sas #lovely mutuals #loki fluff #Mew Mew the mango says hi

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thereforepizza · 1 year

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Hey y’all! There’s a slightly newer version of this one shot on my other blog @pizza-writes

Pairing: Tech x GN!Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: SFW, mildly-descriptive injury, jealous reader, “I thought it was obvious” Tech, ex-Jedi reader, mutual pining

Overview: Y/n has had feelings for Tech for a long time, but they refuse to tell him. One day, the Bad Batch enlists the help of a bounty hunter for a mission for Cid. This bounty hunter is quite the flirt with Tech, and that really messes with y/n. Eventually y/n confides in Echo, who convinces them to speak with Tech.

"For as sketchy as this planet is, these fries are phenomenal."

Wrecker hums in agreement, his mouth full of them. Omega giggles and eats another fry. A gesture for silence from you causes Omega to focus as you grin devilishly. You wait until Wrecker shoves more of the food into his face hole. In a blink, you send a tickle attack at his side. He spits out the fries and falls out of his chair. The crash, heard by everyone, turns all eyes to your group of three. Omega roars with laughter, breaking the tense silence.

"Ha ha, very funny," says the gentle giant. "I'll getcha back,"

“You declaring war, big man?"

Wrecker stands his chair up slowly and takes a long sip from his drink. You nearly miss the twinkle in his eye before he shoots out an ice cube that hits you square in the face. Gawking, you stand straight up.

“Oh, it's on—"

Not long later, the three of you stand in front of Hunter. Though he isn't technically the sergeant anymore, no one dares disappoint him. That's why none of you can look him in the eye, food and drink staining your civvie clothes.

"Someone wanna explain this to me?"

"Hunta, I gotta tell ya," begins Wrecker. "The owner was wayyyy too sensitive."

"We didn't break anything," You add, picking a fry off of Omega's shirt and tossing it aside.

The kid laughs, "You shoulda seen Wricka's face when y/n threw a whole dish 'a ice cream on him!"

You and Wrecker simultaneously shush her. She smiles sheepishly. Hunter's look of disappointed hits harder than a well-planned punishment could, but behind him stands Echo, whose tight lips and glistening eyes fail to hide his amusement.

Hunter sighs and says, "You got kicked out of the diner, we'll have to pay for any damages caused," He hushes you with a look before you can argue, "and you're going to delay the briefing. Echo," He calls without looking back, "How dirty is the cargo bay?"

"Filthy,"

Wrecker and Omega groan, but you hold your composure, having learned a lesson long ago about complaining to a senior officer.

"I think Wrecker has some free time this weekend for that after this mission is finished," He turns to Omega, "Tech has more to teach you about the ship's schematics. And y/n," he raises his brow at you, "Cid has a few too many chores around here that might need attended to this weekend."

That's enough to make you show disgust on your face. It's not that you don't like to be around Cid... but you really hate being around her. Her force signature is laced with dodgy energy. Not to mention her gripey attitude about every little thing. Hunter seems satisfied with this and relaxes his stern expression.

"After all of this," Hunter says. "Who won?" You smirk.

"Oh, it was definitely me, Sarge,"

Wrecker tuffed, "Nuh-uh! I got the last hit in!"

"But who ended up with more food on them? Not me,"

"Alright, you three. That's enough. Get cleaned up so Cid can brief us on the next mission, and make it quick."

On your way out, you shove Wrecker and dodge his rejoiner to irritate him. It works, and he chases you to the door before Hunter calls both of your names and tells you to straighten up. Like little kids, you saunter outside and return to the banter once out of sight.

"Another food fight?" Tech says as you approach the shuttle. It looks like he is completing the pre-mission systems check.

"Y/n started it," Says Wrecker, quickly followed by Omega's agreement.

Tech nods, "I assume you finished it then, Wrecker?"

You chortle, climbing up the steps of the Marauder, "The owner of the restaurant finished it."

After cleaning up, you wait in Cid's parlor for the final arrival to show face before the briefing can begin. It turns out, Hunter's prediction is wrong. The one holding up the briefing isn't a part of your main crew. You seat yourself next to Tech at the bar and ask him about the ship's status. Simple small talk, which neither of you are phenomenal at, but you had made an agreement a while back to practice on each other to improve the skill. Today's subject is simple, so it doesn't take long to cover.

He turns to you after the previous topic is exhausted and says, "Y/n, I've had the intention of speaking with you about something rather serious,"

"Oh, no--did I break something?"

He smiles at the attempted humor, then opens his mouth to reply just as a tall figure enters the room. You both turn to watch the rugged woman stride to Hunter and offer her hand in greeting. The corners of Tech's lips turn down just a little bit, but you notice the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"What were you gonna say? You probably have time before the briefing..."

"No—it can wait," He says, getting up. "We do need to begin the meeting. This is a time sensitive operation." You stand and follow him to the rest of the group.

"This is Hunter, your team leader," Offers Cid. "I'm sure you know everything about everyone here, but you might wanna act like you don't so ya don't scare 'em away. They're like scared little bugs when someone knows a little more than they want them to. Trust me."

The newcomer chuckles and scans everyone. Her eyes linger on Tech as she smirks, "How's the weather up there, brown eyes?"

He tilts his head at her, "Seeing as I am only a few centimeters taller than the average height in the room, I would presume it is the same as at your level. On a different note, my mutations objectively are aimed at my brain. Iris pigmentation was not affected in any way when I was..."

"Explain it later, Goggles. We've got a briefing to get through. Go ahead and explain your brilliant plan." Tech eyes Cid for her accentuation of the word, but gives no further attention to her.

It's a standard product retrieval aside from the bounty hunter, whom you come to learn is named Portia, that is paid to help out for her experience dealing with this sect of pirates. She is impressive to look at, even making you feel meager, though you yourself are relatively tall. Her eyes are piercing and her lips thin. You notice her insanely intensive expressions as Tech speaks about the details of the mission and that her eyes rarely leave him. She doesn't take the time to observe the others—only Tech. For some reason that you don't understand, she strikes some kind of nerve in you.

"A recap," Tech says, looking up from the hologram blueprints of the ship, "Wrecker and y/n will quietly go to the bridge so that they can make a distraction and set the charges. From there while Echo and I disable the alarm systems. Once we are finished, Hunter and Portia will retrieve the item. We will all meet back at the Marauder in the hangar afterwards. It should take only an hour at most, and we'll be off their ship before the pirates have realized what happened.

"Unfortunately for you, Omega," Tech continues, "this mission is too high risk, and your bounty too high. You will stay on the shuttle for the entirety of the time and keep it ready for a quick takeoff."

Omega's disappointed is evident, but she keeps quiet and stoic, mimicking Hunter's stance per usual. After the briefing, you follow Tech to leave, feeling the cold look from Portia as you do, but something in you needs to guard him from her prying eyes. Is it the way she looks at him? Is the Force trying to warn you of something? Regardless, you don't waver, and instead, strike up a conversation with Tech. It appears that Tech missed the movement, but Hunter didn't. He meets your eyes with a frown but you don't respond.

The ride out to open space is awkward. No one knows what to say with the tension between the crew and Portia, who is oblivious to the dynamic change. Eventually, everyone but the pilot heads out of the cockpit to make an attempt at striking conversation over the blueprints of the ship. When Tech enters the room after the jump to hyperspace, you eye Portia, who greets the genius with a nod. He pauses and returns a similar gesture before turning his attention to his datapad.

"Well," says Portia. Her silky voice makes you tense. "Seeing that we have so much time to spend, why don't we use it to get to know each other? After all, you wouldn't be able to have a workable team if you didn't trust everyone, right? You'd fear betrayal."

The air goes cold. Each Batcher's eyes tell the same story: Crosshair. You recall the hatred in his heart even as you parted on the platform on Kamino. Before this, you might have considered it, but now you have no desire in getting to know Portia, nor do you want her to know you. But a part of you is curious about how she ticks. You want to understand where her interest in Tech comes from, and you want to know if it's her personality that dissuades you or something unseen. Your chest grows heavy at the thought of betrayal, so you shake your head and look her in the eye.

"Didn't work very well last time I tried to understand a shady individual, so I'm not interested. I'm sure the boys would love to get to know you though."

Portia's eyes widen, suddenly aware that she has struck the wrong chord. "Oh, I worded that horribly. I uh... read about him when learning about your team. I'm so very sorry that that happened. The horrors of war..."

You nod, jaw clenched. You can still sense Crosshair's pain from somewhere in the galaxy if you focus enough. The one whom you all called brother. You look at Wrecker, whose eyes are downcast. Out of everyone, Crosshair's demise hurt him the most. His sadness cries out for reconciliation in the force.

Hunter clears his throat and says, "We would appreciate it if you didn't mention him again."

"Not a problem. I'm sorry it went there,"

Everyone sits in silence, Portia now fidgeting awkwardly. After what seemed a lifetime, Hunter speaks up again. "Tech, why don't you teach Portia the mods you've made to the shuttle in case things go south? Omega, go listen in. You might get something out of it."

The genius nods and leaves with the bounty hunter and child in tow. Once the door hisses closed, Hunter straightens and looks directly at you. It doesn't take special senses to know he is confused. Echo and Wrecker exchange a glance behind him, Wrecker shrugging.

"What's with you today, y/n? You were fine till she showed up." He comes closer, talking quietly, "You sensing something we need to be worried about?"

You hum, shaking your head. Then with pause, you say, "It's something about her... I dunno. It probably isn't a threat." You gaze briefly shifts to Echo, whose eyes seem to be looking through your skull and directly into your brain. An involuntary nose-scrunch registers on your face before you can stop it.

"If anything, and I mean anything makes you think we need to abort the mission, I expect you to tell me. Until then, you'd better put what ever this is," He gestures to all of you, "away so your attitude doesn't affect this op."

"Yes, sir," you say. Hunter sighs and returns to his brothers.

To pass the time, and hopefully to sway your mood, you decide to to to the cockpit and join the three. Omega is listening intently as Tech explains certain controls to Portia, who stands by, making an occasional reply to prove she is paying attention. She acknowledges your presence and Tech turns, doing the same.

All of what the nerd is telling Portia is complete nonsense to you. You fly through experience and hours of training. Not once have you wished you knew the name of every instrument and toggle. Tech, of course, hates this, and takes every opportunity he can to get you to learn alongside Omega, but you have one advantage that the kid doesn't: you know how to distract the man.

Smiling, you sit in one of the chairs, spinning it back and forth a little as you recall one of the many instances you've gotten out of a specs lesson. This one happened by your asking Tech to tell you about the most prominent worldview of the planet you were fixing to visit. It took him a full hour to realize that you were no longer discussing the Havoc Marauder, but by then it was far too late to circle back.

You tune back into reality as Portia leans against Tech to adjust one of the controls, and your brows furrow. Was that necessary? No, you realize as she takes a little too long to leave his space, making eye contact with him the whole time. Definitely not necessary. She smiles. His cheeks flush as he mutters an apology. Your stomach turns.

Frustrated, you turn to a datapad to read up on the news, watching for certain names or anything that might be of interest. Your eyes are glued to the screen but you take in none of the information. After a few minutes, you glance back up at the two. It seems like they've finished talking about the shuttle.

They're speaking casually now about some of the planets they've both visited. Small talk. You taught him that. You tear your eyes from the sight and back to the datapad, replaying Hunter's instruction in your mind. The longer you sit there hearing them talk so freely, the hotter your temper becomes. You have to do a check of yourself, wondering where the sudden mood has come from. Crosshair doesn't hold a light to the way you're brooding.

The best course of action, you realize, is to leave. They don't need this negativity before a mission. You bid them farewell and leave. As you're passing through the main compartment of the shuttle, Hunter gives you a questioning look, but you shake your head as if to say, "Not now," and go to the back of the ship.

As you lie in your bunk, staring at the wall, one thing keeps drifting to your mind: the way Tech was looking at Portia. His eyes followed her, studying her. Like she is a masterpiece. You force your mind back to the plan. Back to the mission. The one that might earn your team enough credits to repay the debt to Cid. It is imperative that you don't let your focus wane even for a moment, but a strange fear keeps you on edge. One that says that you might lose your place on the team. One that says you might lose Tech. It doesn't make sense. One can't lose someone that they don't have, and one can't have someone that they don't first take a risk to become vulnerable with. You have never done such a thing, so you don't deserve to be jealous.

That doesn't change the fact that you are.

You get up an hour later, having somehow fallen asleep. As you mosey to the cockpit you pass by a napping Wrecker and Portia, who has her nose buried in a datapad. She smiles as you walk past, but you give no rejoin. You sit in the cockpit with Hunter, Omega, and Tech, listening to the hum of the shuttle. Every once and a while one of them will talk, but it's pretty rare. You keep your eyes on the stars until the object of the op comes into view.

With everyone suited up, Tech stealthily lands the shuttle in the hangar of the pirate ship. You split up into your groups and Tech gives one final rundown of the plan. You and Wrecker are the first to head out, and you do so with caution, bidding the rest good luck.

You and Wrecker make your way to the bridge swiftly, dodging bad guys. You lead the way because Wrecker mysteriously forgot to memorize the path on the schematics you were given days ago. Distractions come easy to the big guy, but your job is to get him to his soap box with utmost discretion. There are a few times you bump into a straggler and have to silence him with a wave of your hand, but by some miracle, you and Wrecker remain unnoticed. Once at the bridge, you pause on either side of the door, recomposing yourselves. You count down from three with one hand and hold your blaster at the ready in the other.

At zero, you cover Wrecker as he blasts through the door with an excited shout. In an instant, the ship is ablaze with fire and lights. Once Wrecker brings his part of the plan to full fruition, Echo announces his move on the comms.

You take out a few more pirates before ushering Wrecker to take over so you can set the charges. "Watch my back,"

"Don't have ta ask me twice!"

You rush into the bridge and unshoulder your pack which is stock full of charges, placing them on the panels. At this point in the plan, Hunter and Portia will have already arrived at the package's location, and Echo and Tech should be close to reaching the bridge.

You and Wrecker hold the bridge, which takes a lot of firepower and banter. The rank for who gets the most impressive kills is constantly wavering and the both of you stay tied for the majority of the time. You know you would win if Wrecker and you hadn't agreed that you couldn't use the force to throw people around in circles anymore. Soon Tech and Echo arrive, and the former sends Echo to work at the control panel to steal information to sell to Cid.

Tech turns to you in a moment of relative silence. "Has everything gone according to plan?"

"Y/n keeps cheating," Wrecker grumbles.

"I do not!" You call to the big man whose back is to you now. "Anyway... yes. Everything's gone suspiciously well. Your preparation has paid off."

"As I expected," Tech nods, looking down at his datapad. "We should return soon. Hunter and Portia will be needing our help to reach the Marauder."

Echo jogs over to your group with a nod, "Alright, Tech. That's everything,"

"Good!" Wrecker comments, "I was gettin' bored. These pirates aren't as fun as the seppies,"

"You're always bored unless you have something to blow up," you nudge the big guy on your way out the door.

"Hahaha, I knew you understood me!"

"Let's return to the Marauder," Tech orders, cutting short your conversation. "Echo, take the lead. I'll cover the rear,"

Your group heads out far less discretely than you'd arrived. Tech informs everyone that a few of the doors are rigged by the pirates to close and lock up after sensing someone pass through. That feature is an unexpected consequence of the intruder alert sounding before Tech could disable it. This could either split the group or take out a couple of you. You follow Wrecker closely, ready for anything, feeling for any of these contraptions on the doors you pass through.

Having met minimal conflict and none of these traps by the time you reach the hangar doors, Echo turns to Tech and says, "I guess we've been pretty lucky, huh?"

"Please don't jinx us, Echo," you pout. "We're so close."

"Jinx us? That would require luck—which doesn't exist, according to the likes of you." Though you can't see him, you know that he's winking at you. You stick out your tongue, knowing, of course, that he won't see it, but the intention is the important part.

A crash sounds from just ahead followed by a loud curse and the boys freeze but you instinctively move to action. The door ahead is slammed closed on Wrecker. He groans beneath the weight. With an outstretched arm, you usher the force to wedge the doors open and Wrecker lurches free on the other side. Your mind isn't as strong as it once was—with having little opportunity to practice these skills. You shout at the other two to get through as you hold the huge doors ajar, and Echo rushes through. Tech is shooting at more pirates.

Portia's forceful voice calls from the hangar, "You two need to get in here!" You huff and shoot her a glare. Your arms begin to shake from exertion, the doors weighing more heavily on you each second.

"We cannot leave anyone alive who has seen y/n's abilities, Portia. This wave is almost complete," Tech says, firing several more rounds.

"Use the force against them, then!"

"That would seem--rather difficult at the moment," You strain, keeping every last bit of mindfulness on those blasted doors.

"Tech, fall back so y/n can shut the door. We'll cover you--" From nowhere, Portia rushes forward, cutting Echo off, to grab the backs of both Tech's and your armor. You try to hold your ground but lose your footing and exhaustion hits you in a wave.

"Portia, don't break their..." In a burst of weariness, you fall to your knees, giant doors slamming shut. "Concentration," Tech finishes, voice low. The annoyance in his eyes flashes before he refocuses and continues firing on the opposition. "We need to regroup three corridors to the left, where another entrance to the hangar is, but that seems to be where most of the pirates are coming from. Follow me--this way."

Tech takes off, informing the others of his plan over the comms. You gather your strength as quickly as possible, head beginning a torrent of pain. As you reflect while jogging directly behind Tech, you make a mental note to quit ignoring opportunities to meditate. Your group meets few pirates along the route Tech is taking you, but the issue is that his directions are leading you in the exact opposite way you need to be going. Years of experience in the Bad Batch gives you trust in the genius clone, but you worry Portia will be feeling uneasy with this path. It doesn't take long for her to voice her doubts.

"I have studied this ship's schematics rigorously. If I am wrong, this path will lead us directly to the cargo bay which might easily be opened to jettison us into the vacuum of space, should the pirates locate us." Tech pauses to spare a glance at the bounty hunter and concludes, "But I'm rarely wrong."

After a few turns and a lot of stray pirates, your group reaches an empty hallway. Tech stops and turns to you, saying, "Now that your secret is out, would you please remove the cover for the air intake?"

"As you wish," you nod, grimacing at the exhaustion in your own voice. You gently set the vent cover against the wall and then launch those two up and into the ceiling, following them shortly after.

The maze of air ducts is large enough for you all to crawl through, but as evidenced by her hesitation, it takes a special kind of faith for Portia to follow Tech through the confines. "Hey Tech, I realize that this is a sound plan and all, but how much of this are we going to have to go through?"

“About the same distance as the halls we just traversed,"

"I suppose it's alright, Techie," Said Portia. "The more time spent with you, the better."

He takes a moment to respond with a simple, "Thank you."

After an eternity, you arrive at the hangar. The heavy sounds of blaster fire lights up the ducts and you quickly open the air vent to allow Tech to go through it. Before he does, he turns to you and says, "Don't let them know. There's no possible outcome that will offer a safe retreat if they discover who you are, y/n. You know what will happen,"

"I know," You watch as Tech leaps out of the air duct.

Portia's voice fills in the silence. "So you are a Jedi, huh?"

"A common misconception," You counter. "No, Portia. I'm no Jedi. This is not a time for the Jedi, nor will there likely be again."

“No need to get all philosophical on me there, space wizard. 'No' would've worked just as well."

You squint at her as she descends from the vent but decide to soften her fall, following after. As it happens, Tech had led you to the other side of the hangar away from the firefight. He waits behind a few crates so that you and Portia can catch up. Blaster at the ready, you interpret his hand signals telling you to watch his back as he makes his way to the ship. You tell Portia to go with him and he agrees, though it takes a moment for the bounty hunter to catch on.

Once ready, they take off and you stay behind to cover them with blaster fire. Hunter comms, "Nice of you all to finally join the party."

"Thanks for having us," you reply, taking out a couple of stray pirates.

All is well until you feel a presence creep up behind you. You turn just as a very ugly pirate slams something blunt across your helmet. World spinning, you struggle to get to your feet, wondering where time went. He steps on you and kicks your blaster away, then he kneels and removes your helmet, saying, "What do we 'ave here? A nice little pet got seperated from the pack, 'ey?"

You laugh, spitting a bit of blood on his face, "You chose the wrong description there, buddy."

His nose breaks easily under your fist and you throw him to the ground. Without a second thought, you shoot him in the head and move on. The world is still a little hazy as you run to the shuttle so you take a second to focus and locate the rest of the boys. Tech says the shuttle is ready for dispatch, so those two have made it. Hunter is at the front of the line against the pirates and Echo and Wrecker are flanking him. Easy.

The boys begin to retreat and you stand near the Marauder to cover them as they arrive. Echo and Hunter make it aboard and are waiting on a trigger happy Wrecker to follow. You turn to the big man just as someone shouts, "Detonator!"

Instantly you turn and catch the explosive as it flies at you. To your horror, it beeps its last. With all the strength you can muster, you hold it up with the force and contain the explosion. The energy from the blast is immaculate. What feels like years follow as you try to move the bomb away from the ship while still holding in the ball of fire. The pressure like a dying star threatens to break you as you strain.

"Throw it! Throw it, y/n, I'll cover you!"

Your resolve snaps and you throw the growing flame just as Wrecker tackles you.

. . .

Tech's distinct, comforting voice echoes through the room, waking you from darkness. Immediately you feel the throbbing pain of life return to you and you reject it. Blood rushes from your head as you sit up and reach for your blaster, the need to protect your team your first priority. Your vision is spotted but you can see a stranger hovering over you, trying to still you. You leap at them but something strong forces you back down. You don't have the energy to fight it.

"Y/n! Y/n, it's us. It's Echo, Portia, and Tech--relax. Fighting us will only waste your energy!"

Desperation overtakes you and you look around in a panic, "Where's... Where's Wreck..? There 's an explosion," you slur, grasping onto one of the arms that hold you down. "Where was an explosion! He ok? Where--'s he?"

"He is okay," says Tech, getting in your face. Your vision begins to clear and you trace his goggles with your eyes, finally focusing on his worried ones. "You need to breathe for me. Slowly. Big breaths... yes. Just like that."

"Where is he?"

"He's with Hunter getting a burn treated. By the looks of it, it is only second degree and over a very small area on his shoulder. He will be fine."

"Got lucky," Says Portia who stands nearby. "That was one hell of a blast."

"Alright, y/n," Tech says, a hand on your shoulder. The look he gives you is soft, but his voice is firm. "You've sustained injuries. You need to rest now,"

You huff with a little smile, trying not to seem too eager as you flop back down on the bunk. "Don't 'ave to tell me twice."

. . .

"How you doing, n/n?"

You sigh, setting your helmet on the bar, "As well as I probably should be. Took one hell of a nap on the way back here."

Echo chuckles, "You probably needed it."

You arrived back on Ord Mantell only an hour ago and everyone is off doing their own thing. Omega and Wrecker are getting their traditional after-mission treat of Mantell mix, Tech is working on the Marauder, and Portia and Hunter are talking payment for the mission. That leaves you, Echo, and Cid at the bar.

"Cid," you call, "can I have that one drink you made me the other night? It was the one that wasn't super strong but was kinda fruity,"

She raises a brow at you from across the bar, "Alright kid, I know what you're askin' me for, but it seems like you need a lot more kick than that."

You shake your head, "No, ma'am. My body needs a break from my shenanigans."

"You could say that again. I heard your recklessness nearly cost me more credits than you're worth,"

"One," You counter, giving her a tired look, "I had nothing to do with rigging the doors. Actually, if the intel you gave Tech was complete, we could have avoided the situation entirely." You search for a sign that your words are affecting her, but there is none. She carries on fixing up your order. "And two: there's no way that little box was worth that much."

She squints at you, "D'you not get the briefing through your thick skull? That 'little box' is called a holocron. When I say it's worth more than you, I mean it's worth five--bounty included."

"A holocron?"

"It's what the Jedi used for--"

"Yeah, I know what it is," you mutter, dumbfounded as Cid sets your drink in front of you. "I just... I'm surprised. I should've known."

"Well," Echo smirks. "You were pretty distracted the whole time."

"Googly eyes for Mr. Goggles again?" Says Cid.

"Yep," he takes a sip of his own drink. "And a bit jealous of a certain bounty hunter."

The lady looks at him with a little grin, "Is that right?"

You stare at them both in turn. Once they finally turn their eyes to you, you voice your confusion. "What?"

"Oh, so you think we're blind now too."

Echo laughs and sets a hand on your shoulder, "You've got as bad a poker face as my old Captain."

"Rex?"

"Mm. Man can't tell a lie to save his life," He smiles, then looks closely at you. For a moment you wonder if he's about to make a funny jab at your bruised face, but then he says, "When you're done with that drink, you wanna walk with me?"

"You askin' ‘em out, Cyborg?"

He shakes his head, "No, Cid. I'm not that brave."

You chuckle and lean with your elbows on the countertop. "I'm not quite your speed, bud."

Soon you set the empty glass within reaching distance of Cid and get up, moseying along with Echo quietly until you have left the parlor. In the street, you stroll for a while before either of you speak. It is getting dark out, but lights illuminate the area. Echo glances over his shoulder before finally addressing you.

"Y/n, I have to know something," He pauses and rests his hand on his hip. "Please don't let me be wrong because if I am, things might get really awkward."

You stare openly at him, praying in your mind, Please don't confess feelings for me, please don't confess feelings for me... All the while wondering where this might have come from. In your time of fighting alongside Echo, your chemistry has been strictly friendly. There is no romance. No, all of those cursed emotions have been directed at--

“Tech,"

"What?"

"You have the hots for him, right?"

"Thank the Force!" You breath, bending over dramatically with hands on your knees. "I thought you were going to confess some deeply intimate feelings you've been harboring or some shit."

"Maker, no! Ew--well, not ew. You're not gross. I don't--" Echo stumbles. "No, y/n. I don't have secret feelings for you."

"Whew--" you huff and straighten to look him in the eye. "No, yeah. Tech. He's uh... yeah. I do like him."

Echo nods with a grin on his face.

"But he's definitely pining for Portia,"

His face turns sour and he squints at you. "You're not serious,"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He steps closer and looks you up and down. "Damn, that blast really did get to you, huh?”

"Echo, what the kriff are you on about?"

"Tech is in love with you--and even if he didn't tell me every day, I'd still know. Have you seen him?"

Your eyes are wide as you search Echo's for any sign of a prank. No, Echo wouldn't make light of this. Breathless, face burning, you reply, "What?"

"Always looking at you. Every time you leave the room, he has something to say about you. He's constantly working on things to make your life easier." Echo shrugs, "He's liked you for a long time, but he's convinced you'd never date a clone. Thinks you're not willing to break that Jedi code that's been hounded into you. Obviously he was wrong."

"Obviously,"

"You gonna tell him?"

You glance at him, then down the street where you know Tech is repairing the shuttle. In a moment of fear, your head shakes. Then hope passes through and you think, Why not? Truly, what would the harm be?

Distraction, you realize, would be the deciding flaw. His focus will be taken away from important duties which could result someone getting hurt or killed. Your attachment will strip you of self control and you could become susceptible to the Dark Side's wily temptations. That is why you refuse to take action. In the end, with the lifestyle you live, romance could prove fatal.

A ping of pain hits your chest as you see just how close you are to that temporary happiness. Something in you has known all along that it is possible, but with reality... could you ever fully love him? What about his rapid aging? And if you ever want to start a family--that would be absolutely reckless. Omega is barely an exception to your morals. Children will never belong in this way of life.

"You know," Echo says, drawing your attention. "I'm sure Tech has thought about everything you're thinking about. Unless you're devising a plan to secure more Mantell mix. Go talk to him instead of moping around."

You let out a shaky breath, "Be my wing man?"

He gives you a smile, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Your hands are shaking,"

"Thanks, Echo. Real comforting," You glare at him as he enters the code to the bay door. You hear him chuckle before the door hisses open and you are blinded by the lights illuminating the Marauder. The person of interest looks up, light reflecting off his goggles just wrong. You squint, hardly able to see his small wave.

"Go," Echo whispers impatiently. You shoot him a look.

"You should be resting, y/n," Tech says, wiping his hands on a rag. "After your recent injuries, your body needs apt time to recover."

Clearing your throat, you reply, "I'll be fine. Had worse," You cover the distance to the shuttle with Echo close by. "How is she?"

"The Marauder did not receive much damage beyond cosmetics. I did, however, discover a hydrolic leak in this left compartment that has been seriously depleting her potential for a more efficient..." He goes on with terms that make your head spin. As much as you want to listen, all you can think about is your reason for meeting him. Your eyes drift to his lips far too many times, flitting to the grime on the forearms of his sleeves where he'd changed into something more disposable for the dirty job. You've never seen that shirt before and wonder how long he'd had it. Surely he didn't just purchase it for today. It hugs him very nicely though--that you don't miss.

"Tech, y/n," Echo begins. You snap your eyes back up. "It's been nice, but I'm gonna head back to Cid's and let you two talk about... important things." He emphasizes the last two words with a look aimed at you, which makes Tech pause. In an instant, and before you can find the voice to protest, he's gone.

"I suspect he is implying that--right. Small talk," He frowns after noticing a tired look from you. "I struggle remembering to use common 'lingo,' for conversational purposes."

"It's a learned skill," you offer, suddenly nervous. He nods.

"What did Echo mean by 'important things?'"

The gravity of the situation hits you and you hum, "It's uh... something about--" You regain yourself and stare at the ground a moment before warning, "I need you to realize that I might cry. Don't freak out."

His eyes shoot wide and he reaches for you, "What do you mean? Is everything okay?" You let him take your shoulders in his strong hands. What if Echo is wrong and Tech only sees you as a good friend? Worse yet--what if he is right? Your confession can mean you have to walk away from them forever.

"Yes and no?" Your breaths are shaky and throat tight as you whisper. "How do I say it? Kriff, Tech. I don't think I can."

"Did someone hurt you? Come here," He takes your hand and leads you to a few crates and you sit. He kneels before you.

"No," you finally answer. "I'm not hurt."

"If you cannot tell me, simply your assurance that I am not the cause of any of this pain will suffice... And if I am, I hope there is some way I can mend it." He hums, gently rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You catch a glimpse of his concern just before your vision becomes completely clouded.

And in this moment, there isn't a single doubt in your mind as to why you feel what you do. His heart aches--you can sense it through the force.

With the last ounce of bravery in your chest, you say, "You are--but that's okay." Your head drops, tears rolling down your face. Finally, you mutter, "I love you, Tech."

His hand stills.

"I'm so sorry if you don't feel the same," You sputter, not daring to look at him. "And I'm sorry if you're interested in someone else--"

"Oh, y/n," he breathes. "That couldn't be further from the truth,"

Large arms wrap around your trembling form and you lean into him, feeling his warmth envelope you. Face buried in his shoulder, you breathe him in. He smells of dirt and a mechanic's shop tainted with a hint of new clothing. The weight from your shoulders falls to your chest but you ignore it for the time being. For now, you can be happy, finally in his arms, even if it's the last time. It takes a moment, but eventually, Tech speaks up, voice rumbling through his chest.

"I love you, y/n," He whispers as if speaking too loudly might scare you away. "And it's all I can do every day to not say something--about how your hair frames your face just right, or... or the way your voice can sooth even my most troubling thoughts. It grounds me some days. You are my everything. My stars, my happiness... my pain. I often wonder what life would be like if I were transparent, but I fear that we wouldn't be happy. Your spirit was meant to be free, but would it be if we are always in hiding? Always running?"

"I don't care," you say, pulling away to look him in the eye. The defiance is evident in your mind now. "I don't care about any of that. I've thought about the reality, but kriff it. We make our own destiny." You stand, and he follows.

His brows furrow for a moment of thought as his hand comes up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Then his eyes light up, quickly followed by the corners of his mouth. His smile is contagious even if you didn't understand its origin. You look at him quizzically and open your mouth to talk just as he draws you into a tight embrace. You chuckle at his forwardness, returning the motion.

"You know what this means?" He asks breathlessly.

"What's that?"

He lets go just enough that you can see the soft smile on his face, "We've leveled up from friends to best friends."

"Best friends, huh?" You scrunch your face up and study his. "Do best friends kiss each other?"

He pauses, face turning a shade darker as he hums, "I don't know," He leans in close, breath fanning your face. "Shall we find out?"

With that, he kisses you with such a tender passion that you wonder if you’re dreaming. All your years avoiding love... it was worth it for this moment. You melt into the kiss, arms finding their way to drape around his neck. None of the stars can shine as bright as you feel.

“Yeah," you mutter catching your breath, lips brushing his. "I think they must."

You capture his lips again, and there you both stand, worries forgotten. It takes a while before you return to life again. When Tech reaches a decent stopping point on the shuttle's repairs, he cleans up a little bit and you stroll back to the parlor hand-in-hand. Hunter notices your approach from his place at the front door and a small, rare smile lights up his face.

"Finally spill your guts, Tech?"

The genius flushes and replies, "You knew?"

"I thought it was obvious," the man smirks. Then he claps his shoulder and says. "You'd better get some dinner before Wrecker eats it all."

So you join them inside and conclude the evening eating with everyone. Before long, you and Omega are stuffing food down Wrecker's chestplate when he isn't looking. You feel light as you laugh. Afterwards, the whole group sits in the parlor, talking about life. Portia finally gets to know everyone, just as she'd tried to on the shuttle earlier. As you veg, Cid strolls in and takes a seat nearby. She eyes you suspiciously, then mutters something to Echo who chuckles and nods. You don't need to hear them to know what they're talking about.

By now you can tell that even Wrecker has caught on, but it's probably better that way. As the evening grows later and the voices softer, you find yourself leaning against Tech, hardly fighting off the sleep. He finally convinces you to go to bed, and walks you to your room, stopping at the door. Just before you go in, he kisses your forehead and bids you goodnight.

// ~ // ~ //

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Masterlist

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb fanfic #star wars #tech bad batch #tech x reader oneshot #hunter tbb #echo tbb #wrecker tbb #omega tbb

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