#im aware this sounds like it could kill someone but i think that adds a fun element of danger | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soulwillower · 3 years

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troublemaker II • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: IMA NEED A PART TWO OF TROUBLEMAKER + also R U GONNA MAKE TROUBLEMAKER P2 I NEED A PART WHERE THEY FALL IN LURVVVVV + holy shit ainslee troublemaker was amazing can you please please do another please + will you ever do a part two to trouble maker? i fucking loved it + heyyyy so if ur requests do ever open again u should make one where it’s a part two of troublemaker but the reader is the dominant one this time 😳 + IMFG IM GONNA NEED A PART TWO OF THAT FIC MISS + hey ainslee queen I hope you’re doing good I know I am since that fat Cheeto is finally gone lmaoo anyways but I just had this moment in my head since I read your new Richie fic (which I loved): enemies to lovers but it’s sub!richie instead 😉💜💜💜 + yooooo your fics are sooooooo gooooood. and troublemaker kinda deserves a second part with richie teasing the reader at dinner

this was highly requested so here!! part 2 of troublemaker!

part one here

warnings: unprotected sex, pool sex, brief mentions of being caught, sub richie, a bit of switch richie for a hot sec, choking, a bit of praise, dirty talking, french richie!! also a slap (reader slaps richie), i think thats it but this is rly unedited.

translations: (**DISCLAIMER I AM NOT A NATIVE FRENCH SPEAKER I AM TRYING MY BEST**)

“tu vas me tuer“ - you will kill me

“dit ‘merci’“ - say thank you

“merde” - shit

“oh, mais tu l'as toujours aimée, non?” - oh, but you’ve always liked her, no?

[characters are 18+.]

2.5k words

♡

the next day was just odd.

you're not sure what you expected - it's not like a momentary weakness on both your sides could have unraveled the years of disdain and hate that you've sewn for each other.

so, somewhere in your sex-muddled mind, while you’d been staring at the marks left on you in the mirror, imagining his pale skin against your own, the lasting sting to your hips and the soreness to your throat; you’d almost forgotten how miserable richie was to be around.

but then you were all at lunch the next day. sitting at the large family table, next to your parents, across from richie and his own parents. and he started dragging his foot over your leg, teasing lightly and making you flush in heat, your eyes meeting and sending thrills through your body.

you don't think anything of it when richie accidentally drops his fork on the floor under him and then excuses himself to crawl under the table like a five year old looking for a crayon, in fact, you just roll your eyes at his stupidity and continue to talk to richie's mom, who sits a few feet away from you at the spacious table.

a jolt runs through your body when a hand gently caresses your inner thigh, and your breath becomes hitched in your throat, momentarily losing your voice. you look down quickly, to find the mischievous eyes you've spent too much time thinking of the last twelve hours staring at you from under the table, head between your spread legs, mere inches from the apex of your thighs.

you feel your cheeks heat up as you stutter to answer maggie's question about your hobbies, suddenly hyper-aware that when you'd come in from the ocean you'd left your legs and swimsuit bottom uncovered with only a shirt on your chest.

a quick kiss is pressed to your clothed clit and you jump back a bit. “y/n, are you okay?” your mother asks, and you kick blindly under the table in shock. a thump sounds under the table and richie yelps, “aie!”

you cough, “sorry, just-” “-y/n kicked me!” richie calls, the scrape of the fork on the floor making you roll your eyes. fucking idiot.

“play nice, y/n.” your mom chides. you shake your head, going back to telling maggie about your afterschool endeavors.

"-oh, one of richie's friends does that, too." went adds, perking up. you smile, cheeks flushed as richie returns to his chair, fork in hand and a huge smirk on his lips. you glare at him, flashing him the finger. he just raises his brow, puckering his lips slightly and dropping a wink.

"oh, that's right! richie, what's her name? my, she is very sweet." maggie adds, taking another bite of salad. richie's eyes meet yours through the top of his bottle of corona lite, as he takes a swig then wipes his lips, smug smirk making you burn in irritation. wentworth laughs, "yeah, she was sweet until you both showed up with hickies everywhere. i swear, there wasn't a single inch of clear skin."

maggie throws cauliflower at wentworth as she mutters, "went! knock it off." richie just chuckles, shaking his head. "c'mon, pops. shit happens." he defends. his dad, egged on by his son, laughs, "yeah, no kidding. i think every single girl you've ever had over has left with at least ten hickies. you could at least buy them dinner."

"hey, at least he has a job," your mom adds, and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting something bad to follow. "- that way you don't have to be the ones buying him his twenty pack condoms every month." they all laugh.

“say, y/n may be the only girl your age we know that hasn’t fallen in love with you.” his dad jests, making everyone laugh. “-yet,” your dad adds, and you glare at him. you shrug, “it’s not really hard at all.” you say. richie scoffs, “you sure, toots?” he asks with a grin.

“believe me, you’re not my type.” you spit. richie laughs, “right, you like a good gentleman, right? someone who will say ‘you’re welcome’ when you say thank you?”

you freeze slightly at his words, heat pooling between your legs as you remember the night before. the way he made you say thank you. but his boldness to bring it up in front of your family has you rolling your eyes. “i think i like someone who will do what i say.” you respond.

his mom laughs, “that’s not a big deal, richie’s all talk, but he’s a nice boy at heart. he needs someone who’ll boss him around.” she winks at you. you turn to richie, in turn raising your eyebrows cockily. he stares back at you.

“oh, richie’s too busy with those other girls for me, anyways. i have my own troublemakers to worry about.”

“okay.” richie starts, “i won’t waste my time on you, then. i got plenty of fish in the sea at home.” he says with a wink, and you turn red. why are you still so jealous?

maggie hums, “oh, mais tu l'as toujours aimée, non?” her tone is teasing, and whatever it is she said makes went laugh, richie’s face going pink. “shush, maman, you just want y/n to marry me so i don’t go through five divorces.”

everyone laughs.

your eyes are wide, face full of heat as you stare at your food. the toziers and your family both have always been open about sexuality, and generally really close and so you're used to teasing like this from your parents and them, but you can't get over how jealous you feel.

so richie has mind-blowing sex with everyone? you glare at your own cauliflower.

"i'm going swimming." you say abruptly, pushing back and glaring at richie, tossing your finished plate in the dishwasher before exiting quickly, rushing to the pool on the side of the house.

you're not in the pool for even two minutes before richie's footsteps echo down the side of the house.

you hide your glare as you look at your body in the water before meeting his eyes, "what can i do for you, tozier?"

he gives you a smirk, "someone's pissy today." he mutters as he slides into the pool, sitting on the bench under the water on the edge of the shallow end. you glare at him. "what was that shit you just pulled?" you snap.

he looks at you innocently, "what? i did nothing. it was our parents. you're just fucking sensitive." you roll your eyes, heaving a sigh. when you look at him again, his eyes are trained on the skin of your chest exposed by your swim suit, and you glare.

“what? you like what you see, asshole?” you ask, snapping your fingers so he looks up at your eyes. he smirks, “yeah, i do. can't stop thinking about all the ways i could make you scream. if only you weren’t such a bitch.”

your jaw drops and you wade in the pool towards him. “says you. you couldn’t fucking handle me, tozier. you’re too much of a coward.” you spit. he just smiles. “right, again, i'd like to remind you how many times you begged me and thanked me last night."

“i hate you so much.” you say, mustering the best glare you can. he raises his eyebrows. “oh, really? is that why you stormed out here?” he says. he tilts his head, "i thought it was because you were just aching so bad for me that you couldn't wait.

you raise your brows, "fuck you. you were hard the minute i came in for lunch." you tease, toying with the strap of your bathing suit. richie's jaw clenches, but he shakes his head, "as if you weren't begging me to fuck you not twelve hours ago?" he counters, but his voice wavers slightly as you move toward him in the water, slowly sliding to straddle his lap, hands falling to his bare chest.

"you're unbelievable." you counter, grinding your hips on his and relishing in the pleasure that courses through you. "i know how bad you need me." you whisper, kissing his earlobe before biting the skin of his neck below it. he hisses.

he's kissing you seconds later, hands pawing at you under the water. he tastes like lime and a bit like the beer he'd had at the beach and again at lunch.

you drag your hand slowly under the waistband of his swim trunks and grasp the base of his cock, squeezing as you start to twist your wrist. he lets out a short moan, his head falling back against the edge of the pool. fuck, he’s so fucking hot like this. you pull him back in for a kiss before looking at him, stopping your motions with your hand. he moves his thumb to trace idle circles over your clit, and you bite back a moan as you watch him.

“what, are you waiting for instructions?" he asks with a cocky smirk. you glare at him hotly.

then you're sinking onto him swiftly, making you gasp in pleasure and discomfort. he’s so fucking big, but you bite your lip so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you like this. but then he's the one a moaning and whimpering mess, because you're adjusting and still and he's restless. you feel him inside you, full completely with his cock, him at your mercy, and it makes you smirk.

"beg for it, richie." you say.

his eyes widen, cheeks pink. his mouth opens and closes several times, but you're patient. “tu vas me tuer,” he mutters to himself, and you roll your eyes. “i don’t speak french.” you snap, tugging his hair.

"please move. wanna feel you around me, please." he rushes out, groaning as he begs.

you smile mockingly and rise, sinking down onto him again. "was that so hard?" you ask. you gasp, hands clutching the edge of the pool on either side of richie, the feeling of his cock stretching you making you whimper in bliss. he moans your name and it sounds melodic to your ears, his eyes shutting and head rolling back.

you grab his jaw, though, and mutter, “look at me when i’m riding you, richie.” your voice is sweet and smooth and nothing like the words that fall from your mouth, and you feel him twitch inside you. it makes you grin. he moans, “merde.”

you move on him, thrusting yourself up and down on him as the water moves around you, adrenaline coursing through you at the thought of getting caught. it makes you grin as you pepper kisses up and down the column of his throat. "god, y/n, please, feels so good." he whispers, hands gripping your hips. your stomach swirls, still responding to the praise though you're the one in control.

you find a new angle and bite your lip to keep from screaming at the feeling and see richie biting his own bruised lips, his face flushed and chest heaving. his hands are digging into your hips harshly and if you weren’t in so much pleasure, you might laugh at how desperate he looks for you. he’s hitting deep inside you and you feel full, moaning as you bounce up and down.

“fuck, y/n/n… please, please.” he whimpers, his hands running over your hair and your shoulders, lips feathering over the column of your neck as you bounce yourself on him. you moan into his skin, kissing softly under his ear.

"what do you say?" you whisper into his ear, tugging on his lobe. he lets out a low moan that has you clenching around him in arousal. he rolls his eyes and doesn't respond, so you tug his curls back and he hisses lightly, "i don’t know what you mean." he mutters, cheeks bright red. it makes you smirk, stomach curling with the need for sweet revenge. yes, he knows, but you play along.

“dit ‘merci,’ pretty boy.” you whisper into his ear, using the only french phrase you can remember that you may or may not have looked up earlier today. but no matter, his reaction is priceless.

goose bumps raise on his neck and arms and he groans lightly, muttering, “merci, ma belle.”

you lean back, hips slowing, and you can tell it's torturous for him because his hands tighten on your hips, a small whine escaping his throat. "what was that, richie?" you ask, slowly grinding your hips and letting him hit that perfect spot inside you, making you close your eyes in ecstasy. "say it louder, i couldn't quite hear you. want everyone to know how easily i make you melt."

"sh-shut up." he mutters instead, his hips starting to snap up into you. you're suddenly shocked by his switch in demeanor, you can tell he's trying to take control; you nearly laugh, and you would if it didn't feel so euphoric. he's smirking as he holds you, fucking up into you and making you clench your fists into his hair, struggling for dominance. "so easy for you to think you're in control," he mutters, "i could tell you were jealous. you only want this cock for yourself, isn't that right?"

you flush warm at his words but you just glare, filled with anger so you surge forward, hand wrapping around his throat. his eyes go wide and a moan escapes his throat lowly, his hips stuttering. you hum in mock empathy, squeezing your hand lightly as you pepper kisses up his jaw. you start to bounce on his cock again, feeling so close to your orgasm that you have to contain your moans.

"god, you're so hot when you stop talking." you whisper, hand wrapping around his throat, repeating the words he’d said to you yesterday. his adam's apple bobs as he swallows and stares up at you, a new kind of fire lighting in his eyes as he looks up at you, cheeks reddening as he lets out a light moan. "did you think of me again last night? when you were going to bed?" you ask gently, cupping his jaw as you move on him.

he pants, nodding lightly with his bruised lip caught under his teeth. "did you think of fucking me, in the ocean? in the pool? in the kitchen? or did you imagine me swallowing your cock under the table during dinner?" you whisper to him, his adam's apple bobbing again, freckles popping out against his reddened cheeks.

you tut, "richie, did you try to make me jealous today? that's a little embarrassing."

"it worked, didn't it?" he mutters through a clenched jaw, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. you glare at him, hand raising and slapping his cheek lightly. his eyes shoot open as the left cheek fills with a light pink color, a smirk on his face that sends another wave of arousal over you. it's almost a reflex it seems as richie's own hand shoots out of the water, wrapping around your own throat.

you stare at each other as you continue to move on him, his hand on your throat and yours on his own, his cheek skin red from where you'd just slapped him. "that's a yes, doll." he mutters, still smirking.

then you're moving your hips in a way that hits your g-spot, momentarily losing your grip on his neck as the pleasure makes your eyes roll back. his hand falls from your throat and rests on your hips, tugging you closer to him with need.

richie’s torso falls back so he’s leaning against the pool wall, his eyes not leaving yours, desperation etched onto his face. you lean to press your hands against his chest, changing the angle again. “fuck.” he mutters and you moan, your legs burning but the pleasure flowing through your body.

he all but growls, his head falls back with a groan of pleasure, his hands raising to your hips and fucking up into you, eyes scrunched.

"y/n, i'm close, please." he mutters. you moan lightly, "me too baby." you hiss back, his hand thumbing your clit and making you clench around his cock with arousal, legs shaking and toes curling as you fuck down onto him.

his hips are stuttering and he’s whimpering, thumb rubbing against your clit. you moan at the feeling, whispering praise into richie’s ear, making him snap his hips quicker.

you hit your high quickly and it makes your body shake, your legs stuttering as you still yourself on him, moaning into his neck.

you start to move again, allowing richie to chase his high as he whimpers into your lips, gripping your thighs tight. "please, please." he's groaning and then his hips are stuttering and he’s moaning your name, cumming as he kisses you.

you feel him fill you up and you sigh in pleasure, feeling shaky but more than satisfied. his hands fall from your hips to wipe at his hot, red face. you run your hands through his salty mess of curls, swallowing. "sorry i hit you." you say genuinely, even though you know he liked it. he chuckles, hands wrapping around your waist.

"you should know that i liked it. i know you did too."

you can only chuckle lightly, face warm as you bury it in the crook of his neck, still too sensitive for either of you to move yet. he continues after a beat.

"i may hate you, y/n, but god damn if our sex isn't the best i've ever had." he says it in an exhausted voice, eyes closed as your skin sticks to his own, but you laugh a bit tiredly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone and comfortable in the feeling of him still deep inside you. it’s obvious that the feeling in your chest when he speaks those words is pride.

"then we need to make the most of this vacation, i guess." you say, eyes fluttering.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @nate-hargreeves @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffew @etaerealboy

#richie tozier smut #richie tozier x reader #losers club x reader #losers x reader

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grangers-broomstick · 3 years

Text

”Hold on, I tried to call Ron, who is this?” Potter doesn’t sound even a little bit out of breath. Twat. Draco sees him run past the Tom Ford store and silently prays that the awful looking grey monster with tentacles that is following Potter doesn’t destroy one of his favorite stores.

”Someone who’s watching this spectacle live. Merlin, I feel like im watching a muggle moving picture, a film is it? Anyways, Potter, watch out behind you,” Draco replies, and takes a sip of his tea. He watches as Potter hastily points his wand at that thing behind him. ”That beast was about to slice you in half, you really ought to be more careful. Didn’t they teach you anything at auror training?”

”What?” Is all Potter says and Draco silently contemplates how he managed to become an auror with such underdeveloped critical thinking skills and terrible awareness of his surroundings. Draco thinks he is absolutely daft.

”Wrong number, and before you ask, yes I am a wizard with a muggle telephone and no I have no clue how to successfully operate this thing. It’s been fun to try though,” Draco takes another slow sip of his tea. Just twenty minutes prior, Draco had sat himself down at this café somewhere in central London for a calm, extremely boring brunch. And then Potter came to ruin it by blasting a bunch of slimey, grey tentacle monsters right down the block. Typical. ”Please, Potter, get this over with. I would very much like to enjoy my brunch as soon as possible.”

”Who are you?” Draco watches as he almost dies, again, and rolls his eyes. He feels as though he should probably be startstruck that Harry Potter, of all people, accidentally called him on his muggle flip phone, but honestly? He’s been through more shocking things. He thinks.

”The name is Draco Malfoy,” Draco tells him as he watches Potter turn a corner up ahead, and he’s gone in a swoosh of monsters and red flashes of light. ”Anyways, you should probably hang up now to focus on that thing following you, it’s about to turn the same corner you just did.”

Draco hears Potter’s swear through the phone, and then a list of spells shouted in rapid fashion. Most likely at the beast. ”Uhm, okay, thanks,” he says.

”Whatever,” Draco says, and then snaps shut his flip phone. He continues to sip his tea.

***

Almost four weeks later, Draco’s phone rings again whilst he is cooking dinner. He doesn’t recognise the number, but he picks up anyway.

”Oh thank Merlin, Ron. Please tell me how to stop a densaugeo hex,” Potter’s, now familiar, voice says.

Draco sighs. ”Still not Ron,” he replies. ”But just use a shrinking charm, it should do the job.”

”Huh? Who is this?”

Draco sighs again, this time annoyingly and loud enough for Potter to hear over the phone. The water starts to boil over in the pot on the stove and he turns down the heat slightly. ”Draco Malfoy, same person you called when those awful grey things were trying to kill you, do you recall? Reducio should save whatever has been hexed, you’re welcome.”

”Thanks,” Potter says, hesitantly. ”So, I still have the wrong number in my phone?”

”Well, considering I’m not Ron or his affair de coeur, yes, it seems so Potter,” Draco snarls, and smirks as he hears Potter laugh on the other line.

”Alright, that’s fair. Thank you,” Potter replies. Draco hears him mutter the charm under his breath faintly. ”Draco, was it?”

”Yes, I’ve told you that twice now,” Draco turns of the stove with a flick of his wand and pours the pasta into a bowl. ”Well, I would like to enjoy my dinner now so, goodbye.”

He hangs up the phone and eats his dinner in the living room. He thinks about Potter.

”Merlin what an idiot,” he says out loud.

***

Draco’s phone rings while he is at work only a week later, and Draco already knows who’s calling. Not that he is keeping track. He rolls his eyes and picks up.

”Hurry up, I’m busy,” Draco says, adding two drops of flobberworm mucus to his cauldron and stirring 4 times clockwise.

”Hey Draco,” Potter says, sounding awfully entertained. Draco huffs. ”Am I disturbing you?”

”As a matter of fact, you are indeed Potter. I’m working, get to it,” he says, and tries to focus on the dreamless sleep he’s making.

”Just wondering, do you know anywhere I could get some blood-replenishing potion? The Apothecary has run out and it’s sort of urgent.”

Draco hums into the phone, and presses it in between his shoulder and head in order to cut up some lavender. ”If you’re brave enough, Mr Mulpepper’s is on Knockturn Alley. If you just walk past Borgin’s and to the left, you should see it.”

”You think I’m scared? I defeated Voldemort, I think I can manage Knockturn Alley,” Potter says, and Draco can practically feel the grin on his face.

This would probably be a good time to owl Pansy to admit that he has been properly enamoured by Britain’s golden boy. Ugh. Not fair. Totally not fair.

”You’re not half as cute as you think you are, Potter,” he lies through his teeth. He stirs the cauldron anti-clockwise and adds the lavender.

Potter chuckles, and Draco feels it in his whole body. ”No, but you’re probably twice as cute as I think you are,” he says. ”Anyway, thanks for the tip Draco,” and then he hangs up.

Draco stares at the cauldron of dreamless sleep for at least, like, five minutes. He should be shocked that this was the third time Potter rang, if he wasn’t so dumfounded by the fact that Potter was flirting with him. Harry Potter had called him, on purpose, to flirt with him.

Draco fucks up the dreamless sleep. It turns blue. He gives up on trying to save it after that.

***

Just a few days later Draco is on his way to have a few drinks with Blaise and Pansy, when the phone rings. Draco would very much like to ignore it, but the ringtone is so immensely antagonising he thinks it should be illegal.

”Again, Potter, really? Be quick about it, I’m a busy person,” Draco drawls into the phone.

”Draco Lucius Malfoy, born 5th of June 1980 in Forcalquier, France. Son and only heir to Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, née Black. Oh, you’re Sirius’ cousin, how fun, I’m totally going to make fun of him for that. Anyway, your father was a notorious death eater, played a major role in the second wizarding war and was considered You-Know-Who’s second in command. Very interesting. Your aunt was quite infamous too, Bellatrix Lestrange. She tortured me once, you know. You grew up in France and attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, I suspect for reasons being to stay away from your father, perhaps. Graduated top of your class three years ago, and works as a potioneer, is that right?”

Draco draws in a sharp breath. He had stopped walking and was standing in the middle of the street as if he had been hit with a petrificus totalus. Mild panic claws at his chest, but he continues walking. He couldn’t quite place the voice, but it sounds awfully familiar. The person is soft spoken, and the speech didn’t sound cruel, so he tries to calm down.

”That is indeed right, may I ask who I’m talking to?” Draco asks, trying to sound nonchalant. He drags a shaky hand through his hair.

”Oh yes, of course, my apologies,” the voice says, a bit muffled, as if the person is moving around. ”The name’s Hermione Granger.”

Ah. A lightbulb in Draco’s head turns on. ”Miss Granger, what a pleasure. Thank you for calling, I was just thinking about my cousin, Sirius was it? Last I heard he escaped Azkaban, how thrilling.”

”Hm, yes that was quite some time ago. He’s doing well now, all the things he had been inprisoned for were a lie, so,” Granger gets cut off by someone and there is quiet mumbling. He tries to make out the words but to no luck. Instead, he focuses on the directions to the pub. Something rastles over the phone, and Granger is back. ”Well, I just thought I’d call. Harry’s been very smitten as of late.”

”How fun for him,” Draco says and hangs up. He speeds up the pace.

The next evening, Draco had just walked through the front door to his apartment when that dreadful ringtone starts again. He slams the door shut and walks to his bedroom.

”You know, usually, people don’t keep calling the wrong number, Potter,” he says and squeezes the phone between his shoulder and cheek. ”And, I would very much like a peaceful evening so if this is Granger, please spare me the speech about my own family tree.”

”Wait what?” Potter’s voice fills his ears and he closes his eyes and shivers. ”Hermione? She did what?”

Draco unclasps his robes and shrugs them off his shoulders. He starts at unbuttoning his pants and curses as he almost stumbles over them as they fall to his his ankles.

”Draco, are you okay?” Potter says, sounding concerned. ”What are you… are you undressing?”

”What an excellent observation, Potter. But don’t get your wand in a knot, this isn’t some awful sex line,” he replies and steps out of his pants. He pulls on some old pyjama pants. ”I don’t think you could afford me, if I’m honest.”

Potter laugh is loud through the phone and Draco basks in it for just a moment. He pulls on a t-shirt and flicks a folding charm at his clothes before making his way to the kitchen.

”You’re funny Draco, but what was that about Hermione? What did she do?”

”Oh Merlin Potter, don’t worry. She just called me to kindly remind me of my heritage and the fact that my family is insane, no harm done,” Draco mutters and heats up his two day old Chinese takeout with a wave of his wand.

”Oh fuck, fuck, I’m- I’m sorry Draco, really,” Potter sounds annoyed. Draco wonders if Granger is in trouble. ”I’m going to have to call you back.”

Draco hums, ”Please don’t. I’m going to be asleep in approximately fifteen minutes, and I need my precious beauty sleep. Why do you think I wake up looking perfect every day? Ugh, you understand nothing Potter, imbecile.”

Draco hears another one of Potter’s dark chuckles before he hangs up, and silently prays to Salazar that he’s not going to be woken up by the phone ringing tomorrow morning.

***

The phone doesn’t ring the next morning, or the next until its been almost two weeks since he last spoke to Potter. Bit it’s Thursday afternoon, and Harry Potter walks into Mr Mulpepper’s potions shop. Draco is up front at the register today, and Merlin how he wished he was in the back brewing something right about now.

Potter steps through the door and the bell makes a little jingle. He heads straight for the hangover potions and takes a couple of vials before looking at Draco. He watches as Potter looks him up and down, and he wonders if he knows that it’s him. If maybe Granger had told him about Draco and his family, and maybe that’s why he hadn’t called in a few weeks.

He swallows and throws a small smile at Potter. He smiles back. Okay, Draco thinks, maybe he doesn’t know.

”Just these, please,” Potter says, and puts the vials on the counter carefully. He shoves his hand in a pocket of his robes.

”That’ll be 2 galleons and 10 sickles, Potter,”

Potter’s head shoots up and his movements stop completely. They stare at each other for a few uncomfortably long seconds. Draco looks away first.

”What, forgotten how to count, have you? I really don’t have all day, we have lots of customers you know,” he snarks. Potter shakes his head and slowly, a grin lights up his face. Draco wants to strangle him.

”There’s no one here but me,” Potter says and pulls out a few galleons more than necessary and puts them on the counter between them. Draco huffs out a laugh. ”I’m sorry, I haven’t… I never called you back, work has been hectic.”

He’s still grinning. His hair is in it’s usual mess, looking like he had just had a proper shag. I want to shag him, Draco thinks. Ugh. Not fair, so not fair.

”Hm, you don’t owe me anything, Potter. I was wondering why you kept calling in the first place,” Draco says. Merlin, was his voice a bit shaky? It is totally Potter’s fault for making him nervous.

”Well, what can I say? I kind of like the arsehole that picks up,” Potter says and Draco can feel a smile growing on his own face too. He blames Potter for his future wrinkles.

”Well Potter, are you insinuating that you’ve been calling me only for my arse? I already told you, you can’t afford me,” Draco says and picks nervously at his nails. He looks down and counts out the money since Potter is too preoccupied with staring, still.

The man hums, and Draco closes his eyes briefly. “I mean, it’s a beautiful arse, don’t get me wrong. But, I think the sarcastic personality does it for me too.”

Draco lets himself laugh now, and shoves Potter lightly with a hand to his chest. He swears at Salazar for making Harry Potter so fucking fit.

“So, Draco, what do you say about a date?”

Draco is going to kill him.

#uhm #idk how draco got a phone lets just ignore that part #i haven’t written anything in so long this is so crusty #this is sort of a thanks for 3k followers ig #so thank u guys #i love u #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x harry #hermione granger #hp #drarry fic #very much inspired by side bitch out of your league by rohkeutta #defo recommend

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mandalorewhore · 3 years

Text

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man.

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake.

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again.

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off as a droid.

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment.

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason. Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

“I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness.

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond.

“Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

“Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

“O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

“Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine.

“Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops.

He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.”

There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.”

A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?”

“That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

“Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you.

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

“16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous.

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind.

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer.

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions.

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?”

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?”

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze.

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet.

“Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness.

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away.

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling.

“You can carry it from now on.”

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit?

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire.

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry.

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

------------------------------------------

You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you.

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on.

You wish they would fear you like that.

Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

“Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

“I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

“Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

“It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

“Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector.

Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

“She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you.

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip.

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job.

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology.

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome.

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time.

“I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger.

“Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted.

“My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose.

After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.”

You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

“I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

“Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

“On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this.

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.”

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously.

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it.

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants. He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.”

He waves back. “You as well, girl.”

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

----------------

It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere.

As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about.

Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path.

It’s almost funny how quickly things go south.

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated.

“I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison.

The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement.

The blast misses by a few inches.

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here.

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof.

He saved your ass. Again.

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there.

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about.

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is.

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it.

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?”

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street.

----------------

The walk back to the Crest is short.

You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall?

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you.

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp.

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot.

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it.

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot.

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that.

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?”

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles.

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again.

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him.

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan.

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now.

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire.

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach.

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead.

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal.

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian.

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.”

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that.

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath.

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit.

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game.

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-”

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life.

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-”

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt.

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims.

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours.

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing.

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.”

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator.

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.”

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks.

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness.

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

------------------------------------------

It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this.

“Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly.

And so you do.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #fanfic #smut fic #mando x you #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian fanfic #smut #din djarin #star wars #star wars fic #fanfiction

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everlarkficquestions · 3 years

Text

Whatever Day it is Today Stumped Day 36

It’s another Sunday ?? Stumped Day!

Sometimes we straight out get stumped. So every few months we will pick a Sunday when we’ll post of a list of asks that we need your help on.

In this round, we are focusing on asks for specific stories. If your ask for a more general “type of” story is not included, it does not mean we are ignoring it, it just means we need more time to research and answer these asks.

If you know the answer to any of these asks please shoot us a message/ ask/ with the Post number and the fic details and we’ll add it and give you a shout out with our thanks. Any links you can provide will also be super helpful.

Thanks!

Post 1 , Post 2 , Post 3, Post 4, Post 5, Post 6, Post 7, Post 8, Post 9, Post 10, Post 11, Post 12, Post 13, Post 14, Post 15, Post 16, Post 17, Post 18, Post 19, Post 20, Post 21, Post 22 , Post 23, Post 24, Post 25, Post 26, Post 27, Post 28, Post 29 , Post 30, Post 31, Post 32, Post 33, Post 34 and Post 35 can be found here - and there are still fics we need your help with.

597. weepingmilkshakesandwich asked:there's a fic that I can't find where Peeta takes Katniss to the lake and Effie gives Katniss a bikini that becomes transparent in the water, but Katniss has no idea. Could you help me find it?

598. weepingmilkshakesandwich asked:any where k and p go to the hob and sae makes fun of them?

599. eversnarkly asked:Hey! I was wondering if you could help me find this story that focuses on Katniss only dating older guys and eventually dating Peeta's older brother, until she discovers that he's immature and then gets with Peeta, who's her age. I think it was posted on tumblr as a one-shot and also features Rue as her friend. Rue's brother is Thresh, who's older and dated Katniss in the past. Thanks!

FOUND! Closing the (Age) Gap - Savvylark (Thank you, @daydreamsandcaffeine!)

600. alwayseverlark asked:Hello!! As always thanks so much for your work! This is the best blog ever!!I am looking for a AU- modern setting, where Katniss returns to her town and Peeta is going to marry Delly, but Katniss still loves Peeta (I’m not sure if she never told him or broke with him), they have a conversation in the back door of the bakery (they are sit down on the stairs)Does it ring a bell?

601. myminemind asked:Hi! I was wondering if you'd help me find an everlark fic I think it's in ff . net where katniss and peeta's daughter was attacked when she played in the woods..? I think the daughter's name is Grace but I might mix it up with other fanfic I read.. it's been a long time but I'd love to rediscover it if possible thank you so much for all that you do!! :)

602. crazedfangirlofmanythings asked:Hi, Hi yall! Been a bit but I'm lost. I'm not sure we're i read it, but its where Katniss and Gale go out into the woods. The have to keep away and Peeta is taken in the Capitol. She finds out she's pregnant and has to lie to the world that its Peeta even thought she doesn't love him. Anyone got ideas? It's killing me!

FOUND! Could this be Spectator by FanficAllergy? (Thank you, @rosefyrefyre!)

603. acromioclavicular3 asked:Hi! I think I left an ask of this before but I kinda remember some more details.I was looking for this smutty fic where Katniss and Peeta are having dinner, possibly celebrating an anniversary or a birthday. Katniss gets jealous at a waitress.They go home. Katniss is upset and in their bedroom Peeta asks why. She reveals that it's because Peeta was giving the waitress a smile that was hers, that was only meant for Katniss. As they begin to undress Peeta reaizes Katniss isn't wearing anything underneath the dress the whole time.Peeta proceeds to make it up to Katniss by seductively removing her clothes for her and touching her slowly saying things like "these eyes are yours" as he looks at her, "these hands are yours" as he dips his fingers between her legs....Basically Peeta saying that everything he is is "yours" to Katniss.I thank you in advance!

604. stupidsatsuma asked:Hello! The fic I’m looking for is one that, if I recall correctly, was an angsty story with a happy ending. Pretty sure it’s a neighbors style AU, but one where Peeta is slightly older. Katniss always wanted him to be her first, but then he goes off to college and I think she ends up asking another one of their friends (maybe Finnick??) to be her first. I can’t remember if she follows through with this other guy or not, but I am sure it was everlark endgame (because of course!) it just was a bit of a trip to get there. Maybe I overlooked it on one of the master lists, or maybe I’m even getting my fandoms mixed up? (Entirely possible, there are so many to keep track of...) Either way, thanks in advance and have a great day!

605. allflowerscatchthesunlight asked:Hey! I’m looking for a fic that was on ffnet. Katniss gets pregnant with peetas baby between catching fire and mockingjay. Peeta I think was captured then returned. When the baby is born and after the war when they’re in district twelve katniss becomes distant and lives alone in her victors house. Peeta ends up taking care of the toddler girl. Katniss slowly rebuilds her relationship with them both. Really sad :(

606. sweetjentlehome asked:hey! im looking for this fic: it is about gale’s pov watching peeta comfort katniss after a nightmare at night. there’s no dialogue between katniss and peeta as gale cannot hear them, and i also remember that it was like snowing so peeta wraps his scarf around katniss neck and the next morning in the everdeen home prim comments on the scarf. im so sorry this sounds so confusing

FOUND! Gale’s Window - JavisTG

607. supreme-doritos asked:Hi! first off i just wanna say your page is amazing!! ive read so many ffics bc of it so thank you <3 i was wondering if you know of any catching fire fics where katniss isn't as naive and actually sorta knows whats going on/is more aware that her actions have consequences? also do you know of any fics where katniss is friends with the other victors (eg she won before the 74th games or she is just nicer etc lol)? thank you so much!! :)

608. luckyphoenix asked:Hi! Are there any fics where Peeta has a nickname (From family, friends, or K)? I’ve read some where he’s called peanut by his dad or angel by K but I can’t remember where?

His dad calls him Peanut in these:

See Right Through My Walls - HPfanonezillion

Catch Me As I Fall - HPfanonezillion

Katniss calls Peeta “Peanut” in this one:

Fifty Shades of Peeta - mrspeetamellark

609. makennalovessunshine asked:I know there are a lot of fics that show the affects of Peetas abuse from the capitol but do you know of any that show the effects of his moms abuse. Like flinching when someone makes a gesture cause his first thought is that there going to hit him or anything simialar?💚

Let Me Fly - FanficAllergy & RoseFyreFyre

610. emilythelegend asked:Any touch starved katniss fics??

611. atfhj asked:Hi! Do you know of the story where Katniss was dating Gale and Peeta was Gale’s apartment neighbor. I think it started with Katniss showing up in a trench coat (w nothing under) on Peeta’s door instead of Gale’s. Also, do you know one where Katniss is Peeta’s personal assistant? I remember one where Peeta was older than Katniss and they both went to Finnick and Annie’s wedding, which was back in Peeta’s hometown.

FOUND!1) Rain, come again - orphan_account (Thank you, @emilia206!)

- or -

This ficlet - atetheredmind (Thank you, @allie-rose!)

2) Baked - peetazeus (Thank you, @finnickfoxes!)

612. stonyspideypool asked:Hey! I can't remember what this fanfic is called but it is explicit. And katniss and peeta are in college I think they are best friends.. or it might be gale and katniss but she gives him a blowjob when he's trying to work or somethin and gale walks in but he doesn't know I can't remember what it's called.. there's also another one where she does it in the bakery. Sorry I can't remember 😅LOVE THE BLOG BTW❤💙❤💙

FOUND! Part of this sounds like the second chapter of Saint Peeta by thegirlonpeetamellark. (Thank you, @bellairestrella!)

Do any of these fics ring a bell? Please let us know!

#~#sunday stumped day #ssd #mod post

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crescentsteel · 4 years

Text

Just Friends - Part 7

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: sexual tension, slow burn word count: 7.2k

A.N:

- Finally!! I'm so glad to finally release this. October was so hectic and I'm a very slow writer. - I'm so sorry for the mistakes on the previous chapters. No one beta reads for me. So I went back and edited Chapters 3-6. - So sorry for the word vomit on this chapter. I was out of control. - Thank you for all the nice comments!! I swear. They keep me fired up and inspired. - As always, lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my works,

Part 6 | Part 8 | m.list

“No! It’s not what you think!”

Kuroo almost laughs at how cliche you sounded, a typical response of someone who’s been caught red-handed. You’re about to chase Kenma, but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Maybe you should wear your shirt before you go after ‘im.” He tries to hide the mirth in his expression and tone. Your face is so red, you look like you’re about to burst. He also doesn’t want to add up more to the awkwardness you might feel later, so he’s gonna let this one slide. He’ll just pretend that the massage thing was as harmless as it should be.

You put your shirt in a jumble and walk briskly to Kenma. He follows at his normal pace, settling behind you when he catches up to you and Kenma.

“Sorry about that,” you laugh nervously. “He was just giving me a back massage.”

It was kinda the truth, but Kenma looks dubious.

“It sounded more than a massage.”

He covers his lips with his back hand so he wouldn’t laugh. Although his rascal self wants to tease you more, he can’t let you feel any more embarrassed than this. He looks at Kenma and shakes his head minutely with a knowing look, hinting not to push the subject any further.

“Naah. Y/n here is just really stressed so she moans like she’s being fucked.” Okay, maybe he couldn’t completely let it slide after all.

You irritatedly look at him and punch his arm with more force than usual. “Piss off,” you hiss.

He dramatically rubs the arm you just hit. “Ow! So violent.”

Kenma ignores the antics and just passes by you two. He’s about to plop himself on the couch, but pauses. He instead gets a chair and seats himself there.

You couldn’t overlook that. Obviously, in Kenma’s mind, you and Kuroo were doing something indecent there so he doesn’t want to be in it. You want to clear it up to Kenma that you really weren’t doing anything of that sort. Well, you were about to pounce on Kuroo, but still, it didn��t actually happen.

In a way, you’re relieved that Kenma interrupted at the right time. You might have done something you will harrowingly regret afterwards.

“Don’t sweat it, y.n. He just misinterpreted it.” Kuroo’s unusually magnanimous today. It’s strange. He wouldn’t have lived this down on a regular day. Maybe it's because of your no sex relationship? Still, this is aberrant of him. He shouldn’t fail to notice how that last moan of yours was not of comfort.

“Right?” He adds, his eyes gauging your own.

So that’s how it is. He is aware. But he’s giving you the option to disregard what just almost happened. You’re relieved, but also confused at the tiny shards of disappointment prickling in your chest. This is what you wanted, for you to avoid sex and Kuroo in the same room. It shouldn’t be confusing.

You look down and break away from the eye contact. You put a hand on your hip and the other on your temple, which then moves to brush your hair back.

With a long, audible puff, you speak.

“Of course, it was nothing,” you return to his gaze with a dry expression to camouflage the lie behind your words. But at the same time, you also wait for him to say something or for his eyes to show something other than indifference. You don’t know what it is you want or expect, but you wait for it. You’ll know it when you see it.

It doesn’t come though as he shrugs it off like it was nothing.

Disappointed, that’s what you are. You don’t like the feeling, but you are.

—

You ring your driver again, hoping that this time he’ll finally answer. If he doesn’t get to you any soon, you’ll be late for your shoot. You can’t be late for this shoot in particular. Mitsuki’s the creative director. She’s a very pleasant one, but she absolutely hates tardiness. No exceptions. She gets all sour and crank when someone’s late.

The other end of the line picks up. “Ms l/n. I’m so sorry. One of the tires got flat. I need to change it, but I’m still stuck in traffic.”

Of all the days to get a flat tire on a heavy traffic, it had to be this day. You exhale heavily to clear the irritation getting under your skin.

“How long before you’re here?”

“I think about an hour, Ms.”

You aren’t the type to get mad at hired help, but you’re really in a pinch. In an hour, you should be in hair and make up already, not arriving only then. Mitsuki gets enraged when someone’s 15 minutes late. To be late an hour, you can’t imagine how she’d be. There’s no way you’re going to wait here for an hour.

“Don’t come anymore. Just get it fixed.” You say coldly before you end the call. It wasn’t the driver’s fault. You wouldn’t bother getting a driver if your car hadn’t been acting up recently. Being dumb this morning, you forgot about your busted car and was late in this morning’s meeting with a client. You found yourself brisk walking in heels at the hotel’s lobby earlier just to save yourself from any more delayed minutes. And now, even your driver’s car is jacked up.

“Y.n?”

You turn around at the recognizable calm voice you heard. It’s Kenma, except he wasn’t alone. Kuroo is right there beside him. It was kind of weird to see them together at this place and both in business wear.

“What’re you two doing here?”

“I’m working with Kenma here to sponsor our next promotional video.”

You just stared at the two of them. You’re used to the three of you just fooling around when you’re together. Meeting like this when you’re all in the middle of doing your jobs is something new to you.

“And who might you be giving a hard time on the phone, hmm y.n.?”

They heard that? They must both be near while you were getting bummed out from being late this morning and potentially late this afternoon.

“Ah! I need to go. My driver can’t make it. I’m going to be late,” you spiral back to your hectic schedule. “Bye.” You give them a quick wave, and despite your heels, you walk as fast as you could towards the entrance of the hotel.

You try to hail cabs that were passing by, but almost every cab was occupied. And for some reason, someone always managed to get the empty cabs before you can even spot them. To worsen your luck, it began to rain. You frantically tap your left foot on the concrete as the panic sets in you.

Mitsuki’s gonna kill me.

You bite your lip and contemplate how you’re going to arrive in the venue on time. The answer you found made you turn back on your heels to go back inside the hotel, only to find them already there behind you.

“You’re here,” you exhale, relieved that they haven’t gone anywhere out of your sight. “I’m in a bind. Can anyone give me a ride?”

The two men exchanged pithy looks, but you don’t bother figuring out what that could’ve meant. You just need the help you typically won’t ask for since you’re always doing things on your own.

“I can’t. I have a stream coming up. Sorry, y.n.” Kenma first spoke. You shift to Kuroo, hoping that he can give you the time of day. “Yea, sure. Am free for the rest of the day actually.” He says with a brief smile.

“Oh, thank God!” The panic and nerves were clearing out of your system. Despite the awkwardness of your previous massage fiasco, right now, you’re glad that he can help.

“Bye, then.” Kenma quickly took his leave as the hotel valet stepped out from his car and handed him his keys.

“Should we go now?” Kuroo asked. “Aren’t we waiting for your car?” “No. I don’t want strangers handling my car.” “Then why did you go here?”

Amusement shows on his face at your question. “I saw your cute attempt to hail a cab. Is that how rich kids do it? Let someone else steal their ride for them?” You smile sweetly, disgustingly sweet, then roll your eyes before saying, “Let’s just go.”

You told him the location of the shoot. The drive was comfortable as you both share work conversations with your usual banters on the side. Being friends with Kuroo is confusing and reassuring at the same time. With the history you two shared, you need to tread the waters of your friendship carefully every once in a while. If it wasn’t the sexual tension, it was the affection you felt towards him that would sometimes seem like resurfacing. Even with all that, you can’t bear to walk away from what you presently have. You feel like you really found genuine company with him and Kenma.

“We’re here. Let me just get an umbrella.” He looks back to the back seat and stretches his right arm to reach for it. The current angle of his face emphasized his sharp jaw and the length of his neck. You were just thinking how you need to tread carefully, but easier said than done when you know exactly how your fingers have grazed that jaw, how your tongue has tasted that neck, and much more.

“What’s taking you so long? I might as well get drenched from the rain,” you snap because you can’t stand your own indecent thoughts.

“Found it.” He says and returns to his normal sitting position. “Why the hell are you suddenly cranky? Geez.” You feel bad for being suddenly grouchy. He was just being nice and you were being nasty for reasons you can’t tell him. “Sorry. Just don’t want to be late,” you apologized.

He shrugs it off nonchalantly. “Hey. Where’s my umbrella?” You ask when you see him reaching for the door with only one umbrella in his hand.

“We’re sharing this. I only have one.”

You purse your lips to the side and sharply avert your eyes elsewhere, your irritation resurfacing again. You feel uncomfortable with the idea of being that physically close to him. You’ve pushed the massage incident behind, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about it.

“What is up with you? What are you so pissed about?”

“Nothing. Can we go now?”

He stares at you for a good 3 seconds before getting out and opening his umbrella. He moves to your side of the vehicle and opens the door. You get out and try to avoid any raindrops. He closes the door and presses his car keys to lock the vehicle.

You both start to walk towards the entrance of the place. You’ve never felt more awkward in your life. You’re avoiding getting past the edge of the umbrella while also avoiding Kuroo’s body.

“Why is your umbrella so small?”

“The heck are you talkin about? This is the standard size.”

You don’t answer him. The umbrella isn’t small. He’s just huge and his whole body occupied almost all the space under the shade. You flinch when he suddenly grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you close, so close that you can feel the firmness of his body pressed onto yours.

You raise your gaze to him with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna get wet if we don’t huddle closer.” You could accept his reason, if only you didn’t catch the miniscule curl of his lips and the skittish glint in his eyes. It was so typical of him really. Maybe you should stop being so worked up all the time.

“Fine.” Even though he was messing you, you can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable. You’re safe from the rain and his body provided heat from the coldness of the downpour.

He doesn’t do or say anything more as you both get to the doorway of the bar where the shoot will be held. He puts down the umbrella when you reach the shade of the building. Before you’re able to get away from Kuroo’s hold, the door opens. Mitsuki was holding her phone to her ear when she met your eyes.

“I was calling you and you weren’t — oh.” Her eyes flew to the hand on your shoulder and traveled to its owner. “Well, well, y/n. You leave for a good while, then come back loaded.” You can always count on Mitsku to not hold her tongue. You gently release yourself from Kuroo’s hold to avoid looking defensive. “It’s not like that,” was your thrift reply.

“Kuroo, this is Mitsuki, my creative director for today, sometimes my friend too. Mitsuki, this is Kuroo.”

Both of them exchange casual greetings for meeting the first time.

“How come you mention our relationship, but not yours?” referring to you and Kuroo. You sigh. “He’s also a friend.” You turn to Kuroo and thank him for the ride and his time.

“Is your driver picking you up?” he asked.

You seal your eyes shut at your own stupidity. Because you were panicking and irritated, you sent your driver home. You open them again and purse your lips in a straight line. “No. I’ll just take a cab.”

“With your cab-hailing skills in this rain? Good luck with that.” he snorts. “Haha. Real funny.” From the corner of your eyes, you see Mitsuki with an entertained grin on her face, obviously enjoying the exchange between you and Kuroo.

“Call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up then.” You want to protest but it will just drag on. You don’t want Mitsuki seeing more of the dynamics of your relationship, so you thriftly say “Okay.”

“Kuroo-san, right?” Both of you shift your attention to Mitsuki. “Actually, we need a male model because the scheduled one today is a total wimp and cancelled last minute.” She shamelessly eyed Kuroo from head to toe. So that’s why she was about to call you. The shoot was cancelled.

When she looks at you, you mouth the word “no” to let her know that she shouldn’t do what you think she’s about to do. The reaction you got was her smiling widening before speaking to Kuroo. “Do you have an agent? Can we talk over the phone right now to discuss?”

That’s when you step forward. “Uhhh. He’s not a model. He used to be a volleyball player, hence the height and build.” You say defensively. You nudge Kuroo with your elbow so that he’ll back you up, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s just there waiting for Mitsuki’s next words.

“An athlete, I see.” She nods approvingly. “That’s perfect! I don’t have to talk to anyone. It’s completely up to you then.”

“Errr. I don’t really know anything about modeling. Sorry.”

Your relief was short-lived when she tugs you to her direction and grips both of your shoulders. “Then your friend here can guide you. She’ll be your co-model anyways.”

He probably figured out by now why you were so apprehensive during the conversation just now. You don’t want him as your co-model.

His grin just confirmed your thoughts. “I’ll go for it then.” His eyes sparkling with mischief made you surrender. You already admit defeat in your head even though the shoot is just about to start.

You both get in hair and makeup. Being a woman, you take longer to finish. The clothes the stylists are arranging on you are taking while as well. They let you wear a very long, elegant gold dress that fits your upper body like your second skin, but the material is flowy from your waist down. When you arrive at the set, he’s already there talking with Mitsuki while waiting for you. Mitsuki notices you first. “Alright! We’re good to go.”

When Kuroo faces you, you almost don’t recognize him. His usual emo bangs were gone. They brushed his hair up cleanly. The suit he was wearing earlier was replaced by gray slacks and white long sleeve polo that has two top buttons open. You have conflicted feelings towards the hair and make up staff that did the work. They did a remarkable job with his overall style. He does look like a model like this. But also, why the hell did they make him look this damn good? The regular Kuroo was bad enough for you.

“This feels weird. I feel like I have too many things on me.” You scowl at his remark. “Too many? Wanna try being a girl?” He’s about to retort but Mitsuki claps twice which calls both of your attention.

“So our client is a liquor brand and the theme is something like wild love at the bar. What I want is you two giving the impression of having a passionate first encounter while you’re out drinking. Give me something and we’ll work it out as we go on, mkay?”

You knew you’d be working with a male model for this brand, but you didn’t expect that they’d go with something like this. You thought it was just going to be glamour shots to showcase the drink.

But what Mitsuki said, ‘Wild love at the bar’?? That is not something you’d want to be doing with him. It reminded you of the first night you met.

“I’m all ears on what to do, y/n” His haughty smile doesn’t help the situation one bit. You take a deep breath. This is not the time to muck around. You’re the experienced one, so you’ll be taking the lead. “Swear to me that you’ll take this seriously.” You glare at him, no trails of humor apparent. The change in his demeanor surprised you. You forgot how intimidating he can get when he’s serious. You’re so used to him being an idiot all the time that it catches you off guard. But for today, you’re glad to have it.

You explain to him how the whole shoot will go. For the first shot, you ask a staff member for a chair and tell Kuroo to sit on it. “Get the glass with the liquor and look at the camera while holding it.” He did as you told, except he has this perplexed look on his face with a noticeable discomfort from the way his lips curled in a corner.

“On second thought, maybe this is a bad idea,” he said after trying the first time. You want to agree with him, but the shoot is already happening. You just want to get over it already since you’re already there. “Nooo. Uh-uh.” Mitsuki’s tone took a sharp turn. She wasn’t happy with what Kuroo said. “Just imagine you’re in a bar, chilling with your favorite drink and you just snagged the hottest girl in the place.”

“Hottest girl aka me,” you comment on her instruction. That seemed to work because he changed back to his normal self and looked at you with amusement. “Just like the night we met, huh?” He said it low enough for only you to hear, but you still glanced nervously to Mitsuki if she caught any of it.

“That’s a nice expression, Kuroo! Keep looking at her like that.” You ease up since it looks like she didn’t hear it. You put your elbow on his shoulder and tilt your hips to give your waist an S curve while angling your body towards him at the same time. You lift your chin up a bit and look at the camera with parted lips.

“Yep. Looking good dear.” Mitsuki signals the photographer to start taking the shots. You both slightly alter your angles so the pose will have variations. Sometimes you look at Kuroo, smile flirtatiously at him, or look at the camera in a sultry way. Every time you two would look at each other, you’d ‘cheat’ and look at the bridge of his nose to give the illusion that you’re actually looking at his eye.

While looking at the shots from a separate screen, she suddenly asks the photographer to stop. You both straighten your bodies while awaiting instructions. “It looks nice,” she said before looking at your direction. “But it’s boring. There’s nothing wild about it.” You space out for a bit because for the first time, you don’t know how to proceed. You’re used to fashion shoots and runway. You’ve never had an ad with this theme. “Y.n, dear, can you be a bit aggressive towards him?”

You raise your eyebrow from disbelief. “A-aggressive?”

Mitsuki nods. “Throw yourself at him, dominate him, take control. mkay?” You feel a bit pressured when she’s just looking at you two and waiting for you to start posing for the camera. You don’t have a solid idea in your head, but you just go for it. You try to prop yourself up on the bar counter, but your dress won’t allow you.

Kuroo notices your dilemma and gets up from his seat. “You could’ve asked for help, you know.” He positions himself in front of you and grabs your waist. His hands were strong yet gentle. With your palms still on the surface of the counter, he lifts you up while you put weight on your arms so you can usher yourself properly. You’ve been deliberately avoiding his gaze, but right now, your eyes are glued to his face.

“Yes. Like that.” You both flick your gaze towards Mitsuki. “Do that.” She instructs the photographer to move the side so the angle of the shot captures you both without him blocking you completely. You realize the position you two have. “I agreed to this to make you uncomfortable, but I’m not gonna lie. I’m the one extremely uncomfortable right now.” Kuroo whispers with a hint of regret on his face. The camera flashes start going off but something clicked between the two of you that you two end up laughing. It’s probably the awkwardness and the nerves that’s been hanging on the air that something so shallow as Kuroo admitting his uneasiness, cracked you both up.

It was just a brief exchange of laughter but you feel relaxed. Even though Mistuki is pretty cool for a creative director, she’s still as serious as any professional. So when you see her smiling as you apologized for the delay, you’re a bit shocked.

“No worries dear. Let’s continue then.”

You feel more confident now. You’re you. The reason you became successful on an international level is because of your professionalism and ability to produce quality results.

From being seated on the counter, you’re a few centimeters taller than Kuroo. That completed the idea in your head. You took the glass drink and placed it on your right hand. “Put your hands on my hips,” you tell him then lightly lift his chin with your index finger, “and look at me like you worship me.” The command earned a raised eyebrow from him but you pay no heed to it.

You extend an arm over his right shoulder, the glass dangling on your fingertips. With your index finger on his chin, you look to the camera with provocative eyes. If anything looks wrong with Kuroo, you’ll just let Mitsuki handle it. After all, she’s the one who asked him to be a part of this.

“Oh yea! That’s really good.” Compared to before, she looks pleased with the shots now. The pose was captured a few times before she speaks again. “Instead of using your finger, grab his hair to tilt his head back.” You comply immediately and tugs his locks downwards. You might’ve done it a bit rougher than you wanted because you heard a raspy grunt from his throat. You got distracted, so instead of looking at the camera, you look at him.

You regret it. When you said he should look at you with worship, you didn’t think he’d do it this well. Because his hair is pushed completely all the way back, you see every aspect of his face. Nothing was blocking his eyes that were full of yearning and desire. He’s looking at you like you’re not just the hottest girl in the bar, but the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes one.

“Pull him closer and look here y.n.” You do as you’re told, thankful that you needed to look somewhere else. “Damn. You two look so good right now.” She gently claps her hands while looking at the monitor.

“I’m already satisfied, but let’s just do one more for another option. Umm, Kuroo. You be the aggressor this time. Y/n, …. you know what to do.” She winks after.

Well, not really you don’t. She just wants you to do the thinking on what to do. You put the glass down and put both your hands on his shoulders. “Help me down?” You ask with an easygoing smile. You don’t want to ruin the momentum of the shoot, so you decide to be nice to him for now.

“You got it,” then his hand travels up your waist and guides you down back to the floor. You tell him to lean on the counter. He follows with no complaints. You get his arm and ushers him to wrap it on your waist. When he goes along with your silent instruction, you raise your leg to his side.

“Tug my skirt up to my thighs.”

He doesn’t react and just squints at you.. “Huh?” Since he did not grasp what you meant, you take it to yourself to do it and slowly gather the material at the ends. Then, you yank it up to your thigh. “Get it?” He whistles as he gets the cloth from your hands. “Hey. Don’t do that. If you’re a real model, you’d be in trouble if I report that behavior.”

“But I’m not a real model, am I?” You glare at his provocation. You won’t be having any of his crap at your workplace. “Kuroo,” you say with a menacing glare and he immediately gets the threat behind it. “My bad, my bad. I’ll behave again, kay? Stop scowling now.” You relax your face and take a deep breath. “Moving on then.” You enclose your left arm on his neck while you plant your right on his chest. You don’t want to direct him any further than this. If this is unsatisfactory, Mitsuki will say something.

Aaaand she does. “Kuroo-san. Aggressive please. Own her. You don’t want her to get away from you.” Upon hearing Mitsuki’s additional instructions, everything about him intensifies three folds. He pulls you even closer, causing your breath to hitch when his face is dangerously near yours all of a sudden. His sleeves don’t do anything to mask the firmness of his arms. And even with the velvet fabric, you can still the strength of his thighs as they’re pinned on yours. The heat of his hand ignited the skin of your thigh as he clutched the fabric and your flesh forcefully. And his eyes, they no longer worship you. They spoke of something similar, but not quite.

He wants to devour you whole.

It was too overwhelming for you, so you look away and close your eyes dramatically to make it seem like you’re being swept away in the moment. After one camera flash, “Okay dear, but I need you to look at him this time.”

The few seconds of breaking away from his fiery stare did you some good. You were able to collect yourself again, but not enough to truly look at him. You just focus your gaze right between his eyes as you did earlier.

“Nooo. When I said look at him, I meant really look at him. Respond with your own passion. You’re looking a bit of a scared vegetable right now, honey.” You’ve never had feedback like that in forever. Maybe when you tried modeling the first few months, you received something similar to that. But never when you started doing it full time.

You don’t want to, but you have to. You finally meet his gaze and tap into something inside yourself that you’ve been holding back. You let your desire for him deluge you, let it surge through your veins until you’re aching for him. You push yourself even closer to him, not allowing even air to pass between your bodies.

“Yes! YES! You want him so much, but you shouldn’t.”

It was just as she said. You want him so much, so much that it almost hurts. You part your lips slightly as you get lost in the moment.

“Oh my God.” Her words sounded distant. It was there. You can hear it, but what clouded your senses was your heart pounding hard against your chest, his hot breath mingling with yours, and the way his eyes are now devoted to your lips. Not long after, he angles his face so that your lips are almost touching. Just a tiptoe and a kiss will already take place. You clench your fingers on his shirt, holding yourself back from that one tiny push that will allow you to feel his lips on yours again.

“Holy Shit! HOLY SHIT! That was it. That was the money shot.” Mitsuki’s shrill voice which was followed by her squeal broke the trance you were in. You know what she meant. The shoot is done. Yet, you still feel hot. The heated atmosphere around you two still hasn’t caved in. He let go of your thigh as you put some space away from him. You settle your hands on his shoulders while you rest your forehead on his chest. He doesn’t move either. His hand remains on your waist, but without the force this time. With his other hand, he caringly skims the curve of your shoulder.

“You okay, kitten?”

His voice is so gentle, you nearly convince yourself that it sounded loving. You nod weakly before heading back to the dressing room without saying anything.

Kuroo’s gaze followed your back as you disappeared. He was amazed but also bothered at what just happened. You looked really into it, like you really wanted him. If the shoot didn’t finish any sooner, he might have closed that tiny gap that separated your lips from his. He’s been aching for you for so long that his control is slipping inch by inch every time there’s an opportunity to cross that line of friendship you set. When he saw you let go and completely relent within his hold, it was maddening at how he couldn’t have you at the moment. What’s worse is that even without the glamorous set, he knows you’re still not his to have.

He walks towards the room where his clothes were hung and changes back to his usual suit. He asked the make up staff to remove everything on his face. He doesn’t like the feeling of having a layer of cosmetics on his skin. The hair they couldn’t do anything about because they used a lot of product to fix it up.

When he gets out of the room, Mitsuki approaches him with a satisfied look on her face

“You did so well for someone with no experience at all. Do you have a card? I can hook you up for other gigs. You’ll do great.”

He smiles graciously at her generous offer, but he doesn’t want it. “Sorry, but I’m not really interested. I only did it cause it was her.” He said truthfully. Mitsuki’s mouth curled in amusement. “You know, y.n’s really good to work with. She always had this cool facade that never went down, and it works for her. We love her for it. But today,” she pauses as she gives him a meaningful look. “I’ve never seen her show such vulnerability and rawness. It was,” she sighs with admiration for you.

“Beautiful, wasn’t it?” He knows exactly what she’s saying. After all, he has seen several times how captivating your authenticity can be.

“Soo, are you two dating or what?” Her eyebrows twitch up and down from anticipation at what he’s about to answer. He badly wants to say yes, but he doesn’t have that luxury. “Naaah. Like she said, I’m just a friend.”

She’s obviously dissatisfied with his response. He is too, but that’s the lousy truth. Out of the blue, she takes her phone out. “Too bad though. You two looked really good here.” She showed him the photo and it was you and him earlier. You were seated in the counter with your arms on his shoulders and his hands on your waist. It was when you were both laughing at his stupid statement.

“Can you send me that photo?”

“Why should I?”

He’s well aware of what she’s trying to do. It’s a business transaction, except for the lack of formality. She wants to get something in return, and he knows exactly what it is.

“You’re good.” He admits with an impressed glint in his eyes.

“I am. So what’ll it be?” He knows that she knows she has the upperhand of the negotiation. She could probably tell that there’s something going on with the two of you. It’s just a matter of deciding which information to give her. But he didn’t have the fortune of having too many options. He didn’t want to reveal the nature of your relationship before. He wasn’t sure of your feelings for him. He can only speak for himself.

“Fine. I sorta like her.”

Her eyes brighten up. “Aha! I knew it. You should totally ask her out, kay? You’re gonna have tall and beautiful babies.” She put one hand on her cheek and closed her eyes while screeching at her own daydream of you and him getting together. When she calms down, she sends you the image file. “For real though. I’ve never seen her like that,” she points to your dazzling face in laughter in the photo.

“Hey. What’re you two talking about?” You’re back to your normal clothes, but your hair and makeup was still there.

“Nothing. Let’s go now?” He spoke immediately before your nosy director could say something. He walks to your direction before heading out together. “Bye! Update me, Kuroo-san!” Mitsuki said as she waved goodbye. You couldn’t help but be curious on what he should update her about.

The rain stopped so no more umbrella horseplay. When you both get inside his car, you immediately ask him, “What was that about?”

“Uhh. She asked if I wanted to do other modeling projects.”

“Do you?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering, “No. That sort of stuff is not for me. I only did it to piss you off.” He starts the engine, then pivots his body to face you. “I must say though. I enjoyed seeing you eyefuck me.” Just when you are getting used to the peaceful, non-smug Kuroo, his true personality kicks right back in. Good thing you took your time getting changed and basically just calmed yourself down.

“Glad you did. That’s the most you can get from me after all.”

His smile turned upside down at your remark. “Tch.” Your lips tug upwards at the side from his lack of retaliation.

“I haven’t told you yet, but it wasn’t my first modeling experience.”

You’re a bit surprised. Even though he has the appearance of a model, you didn’t think he’d do it. You agree with what he said just a while ago. It wasn’t for him. He’s best at his job right now.

He gets his phone and scrolls up. He must be looking for a photo to show you as proof. When you see his screen, your heart swells. It was you and him a year ago. The neckline of your shirt was pulled to your shoulder for a makeshift off-shoulder while he knotted his t-shirt to form a crop top. You two wore large smiles while posing silly in front of the cam. It was right after when you told him that you’re a model.

“I- you... umm. You kept these?” You swipe the screen and see every single photo you took that day. Not one was deleted. You remember the laughter and absurd joy behind each frame.

“Yea. Why wouldn’t I?”

One more swipe and there’s no other photo after yours. That’s when you notice that the photos are in the Favorites album. You felt like you were about to tear up. You’ve never felt so cherished in your whole life. Even though you left without saying a proper goodbye and no indication of going back, he still kept them. You tried so hard to forget about him, yet there he was, keeping these small tokens of what you had - proof that you really had been a part of his life.You felt something inside you crumble piece by piece. You should be scared, but at the moment, you don’t feel any fear. Instead, you were enraptured.

You can feel your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin is. You don’t bother hiding it from him.

“Can you send these to me?” You turn to him with the smile still plastered on your face, but he frowns at your question.

“Those photos came from you.”

You look back at his phone, your big smile reduced into a faint one that’s traced with melancholy. “I deleted them when I went to the US.” If he asks why, you wouldn’t know how to answer. Fortunately, he doesn’t. He gets his phone back from your hand and fiddles with it a bit. A few seconds later, you hear a notification from your own phone. When you open it, all the photos are sent to you.

He looks at you warmly, his face devoid of anything but heartfelt fondness. “There. Like you never got rid of them.”

---

You lie on your bed with bottomless thoughts that night. Kuroo’s words weighed more than they should in your head as you stare at the photos.

You deleted them to completely erase any trace of his existence in your life. Now they’re back in your phone with not a single photo missing from the stack. Ironically, it’s also you who asked for them back. Yet, you don’t mind. You came to accept that those memories existed. They happened. There’s no use trying to forget they did when he’s already back in your life anyways.

Looking at you and Kuroo in the images, you can’t avoid thinking how simple those times were. You were just two cool people who had sex for fun. You had no clue things would happen as they did - falling for him, leaving, and for some reason - destiny or whatever, meeting him again. The past you tried to leave behind crept up to you and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

You thought you’ve moved on. You’ve thoroughly convinced yourself that you’ve disposed of all unnecessary emotions that involved Kuroo. You thought that whatever it is that you felt when you met him again was just remnants of yesterday. You were so wrong. That‘s just what you tried to tell yourself, repeating the idea over and over in your head until you believed it.

But it never really happened. You haven’t forgotten about him. When you went on dates in the U.S., you’d remember him. So you stopped trying to see anyone and attributed that to being scared of getting hurt again. Hence, you shut yourself out to anyone until you no longer found dating to be interesting. You told yourself getting in a relationship would just get in the way of your career.

That wasn’t true.

The truth is just as he said. Your feelings for him are still there, you never did get rid of them. The question now is how to proceed from here.

You jerk when your phone rings right at your hand.

‘Kuroo’

You don’t want to answer it. You basically just admitted to yourself that you’re still in love with him. Hearing his voice right now would be dangerous for your fragile heart.

But it might be something important. He doesn’t usually call.

You press the answer button. You were about to say hello, but your heart was beating so fast that you were unable to get any word out.

“Hello?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat so you could speak. “Yeah?”

“Is something wrong? You sound a bit off?” How he could tell even through a phone call is unbelievable. “Everything’s fine. Why’d you call anyways?” You do your best to sound normal. “Block your Thursday next week. I’m throwing a party.”

“What for?”

“Mmm. Just felt like having one.”

You minimize the call to check your calendar if you had any plans that day. “Alright. I have an event in the morning, but that night’s free.”

“Nice!!” He sounded a bit too glad.

“Is that why you called?” It’s a bit suspicious that he rang you just for that. It’s just a party. He could’ve texted you instead.

“Why? Am I not allowed to call when I want to?” Your heart skips a beat from the playful tone in his voice. You picture him smirking on his phone while he’s lying in bed. You bite your lip at the image in your head.

Screw you and your stupid imagination.

“Good night, Kuroo.” You said dismissively. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything else important anyways. He chuckles from the other line before speaking so ever softly with tenderness that gives you butterflies in your stomach.

“Good night, kitten.”

It was just a simple good night but you were reeling. You fight the smile that was forcing itself to form on your lips. You look at your photos one more time and sigh.

You are so in love with him.

On the other end, Kuroo is all smiles to himself. Nothing beats hearing your voice after a long day. Once again, he stares at the photo Mitsuki gave him that afternoon. He wishes it was real. He wishes you were smiling for him, laughing with him, and happy with him. If only you gave any indication that you like him more than a friend, he would’ve made his move.

Even though he knows you still desire him, he wouldn’t settle for just sex. He doesn’t want a repeat of the past. He wants something further than that and more importantly, you deserve better than that. But so far, he could tell you were enjoying the friendship and companionship only. Even if he wanted to take things forward, he’s not sure that that’s what you want. You haven’t given anything away for him to make his move. He doesn’t want to risk it and have you running for the hills.

Will he ever make you fall for him? Should he just leave things as is or do something bolder for you to realize that to him, you’re not just a friend?

He sighs.

He’s so in love with you.

Part 6 | Part 8 | m.list

taglist: @lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @babythotshq @arendizzle

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fanfiction #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu imagines

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madlilsongbird · 3 years

Text

Watching The Amazing Spidernan movies so that I’m all caught up before No Way Home. Will add my thoughts as I have them. Note I am not some big Spider-Man fan nor have I read the comics so if my thoughts sound kinda stupid they probably are.

First movie:

That’s a good trick with the broom. Making a mental note as we speak.

Actually seeing Peter say goodbye to his parents is horrible and I would like to never experience it again

SALLY FIELD IS AUNT MAY?! Why does this one have the good cast? (not good as in better but good as in more well known)

The sexual tension in “good morning flash…good morning Peter” (this is a joke I’m not shipping him with his bully)

Jesus roid rage much?

Shut your blinds! I don’t know who would be looking in your window at this exact moment but close them anyway!

First careful, you never know who is watching what you search (when did I become this person)

Second…curt connors is ableist.

Poor Rodrigo Guevara

Oh internalised ableism. And that is the only comment I will make going forward because my disabilities do not include limb difference and I dont want to overstep.

Stop following the man, you are not subtle…wait wtf how’d he do that?!

This is where he gets his powers right?

Okay but when would 5 men make that much of a fuss over a woman that only 1 of them seems to know?

Same. (This is in reference to smashing the alarm clock)

Oh my god is it really necessary to show all the different kinds of spider bites.

Actually just going back to the internalised ableism thing…he is allowed to feel whatever type of way about his own disability that is his right. But insinuating that all disabled people are weak and wanting to breed out the weakness is eugenics and just kinda gross. THIS is the final comment I will make on the matter.

No but seriously he is way more aggressive than regular teen boy aggressive so either he’s on something or he’s overcompensating for something

The way he looks at him doe (again all jokes am not shipping flash and Peter)

Why is this so awkward? And not like teens navigating a crush awkward just genuinely awkward. I feel no chemistry between them.

I like the song, it’s an interesting choice for this scene but I like it.

Stop does uncle Ben die now? Like I know uncle Ben dies at some point but I was really kinda hoping he just wouldn’t in this iteration. I was going for a ninth doctor moment “just this once everybody lives”

MOTHERFUCKER

God Sally is incredible

Don’t show me moments of Flash being human I might accidentally start shipping them for real and that simply can’t happen.

Oooh he’s a fashion designer

I just really enjoy how he takes the piss out of his victims? Arrests?

Is Gwen aware that the school nurse can’t cure everything? Both legally and just like generally doesn’t have the knowledge to cure everything. She suggests going to the nurse a lot.

This family gives me bad vibes

This is a long movie…it’s not even half way through

Well that’s one way to tell her

NOT GEORGE FOYET!

I think with what I remember of SpiderTobey and what I know of SpiderTom, Andrews Spider-Man is definitely better with the people he’s rescuing. Smoother, good bedside manner.

His sons name is Jack. Why does that make me angry?

So he’s just not gonna rescue the other people hanging off the bridge?

It’s almost poetic that the son of the man tried to stop him the first time will be the one to stop him now

Now how is he getting enough power in the sewer

No means no Peter

Does she die in this one or the next one? I don’t imagine her dying will help captain stacey see him as a good guy

Stan 🥺

This movie is exhausting and I don’t know if I mean that in a good way or a bad way.

MoThEr HuBbArD aRe YoU sErIoUs

He managed to get three whole words out and you didn’t think to ease up on the trigger a little to hear what those words might be?

She’s very clever and I will be sad to see her go

That wasn’t her scream. Or it was but from a different take.

Foyet about to be coming in clutch

I’m going to cry.

He’s so ugly. Some lizards are really cute but lizard + human, kinda gross looking.

Well shit. I didn’t know that happened. I guess what I said about him being upset with Peter about Gwen is irrelevant. Unless it isn’t, like if you believe in the afterlife, imagine how pissed he’s gonna be when Gwen arrives.

He finally got the eggs 🥺

As someone who’s boyfriend at the time didn’t go to her fathers funeral I feel ya Gwen. I mean I don’t care now but at the time it sucked.

Dr Connors was just in a silly goofy mood. He seems to show genuine care for the boy (this is mostly sarcasm).

Second movie

Oh we’re going back to peters dad.

How do they have access to a private jet?

Miss Honey is badass

Ngl I’m actually quite relieved they both died before the plane crashed. Stil devastating though.

Okay so this is first up on the list of potential mystery villains in No Way Home…he looks like a tool.

HeLLo PeDeStRiAnS

He really just let Spider-Man put his hand on his tongue. Sir do you know where his hand has been? Not to mention just in general the feeling of spandex on your tongue. I feel ill.

No respect for the proper care of plutonium.

Please don’t ever say “come to daddy” again 😂

I’m kinda sad Jamie Fox becomes a villain, his character seems kinda sweet so far from the 2 seconds I’ve seen of him

You mean to tell me he missed his girlfriend’s fathers funeral AND her valedictorian speech?!

Stan x2 🥺

Because you can’t lose me you’re going to lose me? 😂

I love her jacket

Why are they still pretending like she doesn’t know?

I may have spoken to soon about Max

See I would be speeding up daddy’s death if he told me he’d passed down a genetic disease and just decided not to tell me.

Friendship.

Okay max is still a little bit nutty but you gotta feel bad for the guy. He must’ve been so scared.

Don’t smile that’s not cute, if he was a regular boy you’d file a restraining order.

Oh I see Spider-Man is gonna fight him which will make him turn and become the “bad guy” whether he will actually be a bad guy is still unknown.

This scene is actually kinda just making me angry (the time square scene)

Cops suck man. Peter was talking him down just fine.

Did nobody teach these people not to touch metal when there’s electricity about.

Interesting that I didn’t pick up any chemistry from them in the first movie weren’t they an actual couple for a while?

Another good song with an interesting placement

I’m sorry did the caller ID not say Mary Parker? How was it Harry on the phone?

Run Gwen!

This version of Harry is kinda creepy I’m sure the actor is swell but the character is terrifying. Original version Harry was swell whereas the actor is…

“Maybe everyone has a part of themselves they hide” gives him the eye

This movies shorter or at least it feels shorter

An excellent show of what happens when you tell a rich daddy’s boy no for the first time.

This makes me very sad. She’s so excited for the possibility of Oxford.

As much as Harry disturbs me, I want him to burn his entire team.

His daddy really did love him!

I think it’s mostly his eyes, his behaviour can be explained by trauma (why I find Harry creepy)

Okay most of his behaviour. The taking joy in killing people that’s just him being nutty and not a trauma response.

This is fucked up. And where is Peter? he is off chasing a girl who has broken up with him twice now.

PLANES NEED THE POWER!

I really like SpiderAndrew, the movies are fine but as a character I thoroughly enjoy him

Sorcerers apprentice who?

Captain Stacy can’t blame him! She’s clearly stubborn as hell and her own free woman

I quite literally stopped breathing (in reference to the almost plane crash)

Is this why they made it Gwen and not MJ so that he could kill her and be an actual bad guy? From my little knowledge of the comics and what I’ve seen from the movies Harry would never hurt MJ so it had to be someone else important to Peter but not super important to him for him to a real bad guy

I like that Harry actually looks like a goblin.

What was the disease he’s supposed to have?

This poor family. I know I said they gave me bad vibes in the first movie but nobody deserves this.

He looks less like a tool with his suit on…but only slightly less

Baby you better get back behind that baracade!

Nobody talk to me I’m very emotional. This child looks very much like a magical mix of all 3 of my brothers put together and seeing him stand there so brave but so scared is doing something to me.

Final thoughts:

So I think SpiderAndrew might be a close second favourite for me. I like the relationships of the original the most, the comedy of the mcu version the most but this one was like a nice in between. Im a little disappointed there won��t be a third not cos I think I would have enjoyed it just cos the original had 3 movies, the mcu version will have at least 3 movies and this one is left out with 2. Don’t think I would have loved Shailene Woodley as MJ though so I dunno. I think the only thing I would have wanted from a third movie is to know who fedora guy is…and for Peter and May to acknowledge that they both know that he is Spider-Man. Apart from that it was fine and I now feel fully prepared for No Way Home.

#the amazing spider man #the amazing spider man 2 #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing Spider-Man 2 #the amazing spider man spoilers #andrew garfield #emma stone #sally field #criminal minds #george foyet #spider man no way home

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snacc-noir · 4 years

Text

Unseal and Reveal pt2

Ao3

Part 1

Adapted from this post

Summary:

Adrien asks Marinette to fake date him after his father finds a pink ‘love note’ containing just her name on it

— but it was really the emergency note Ladybug gave him in case he needed to know her identity

Adrien has screwed up.

But before anything begins, he’d like to make it very clear that he’s only ever had good intentions, believable smiles, and incredible lying ability – no matter what his friends say (“You once told Alya you had a great dentist so Marinette wouldn’t be suspicious”), because he’s kept the fact he’s Chat Noir under wraps and no one has been the wiser.

Then again, Chat Noir is stylish, handsome, incredibly dressed, insanely hilarious, im(pecc)ably ripped, totally—

Yeah, so Adrien just can’t live up to that (If it came down to it, he’d totally fall in love with himself if circumstances allowed.), and thus his identity is pretty secure , unlike his self-esteem on a good day.

Specifically, today.

Because he has screwed up.

So yes, he’s somehow the best and worst liar ever, which probably likens to how it isn’t his secret identity that he Accidentally (three underlines for ‘accidentally’) reveals, but, uh, someone else’s.

Ladybug’s.

He knows Ladybug’s identity.

But hey! Hey— remember, her idea. It was never him who suggested the ‘let’s write our names on letters in case we need to know in an emergency’, as that was definitely her.

He’s screwed everything up, but it was definitely her.

“Did you know? ”

“Duh,” his kwami’s gravel voice says, “I know everything.”

Adrien’s hands are rousing his hair so much at this point he might expose himself as Chat Noir if anyone went by his lean windows. “You knew this whole time!? That Ladybug is– That she’s– That—”

All air escapes him in a corrupt elongated syllable. He flops on his Extra King size bed with silk sheets and fluffed pillows, almost knocking his model agency’s branded hydro-flask onto the desk adjacent with three exorbitant monitor screens. Oh, how difficult his life is.

“You’re so pathetic.”

He is.

“This is hilarious.”

It is not.

‘“What am I supposed to do, Plagg?! Call her? ‘Hey love of my life, it’s me Adrien, but you also know me as Chat Noir. I accidentally found out your identity and long story short, my household thinks we’re dating and wants you over for dinner. Are you up for fake-dating and not killing me, please?”

His kwami skulls a camembert roll. “I’m down for that idea.”

Adrien pegs a sock.

“How are you so calm?”

“I shrugged in the face of dinosaur extinction. Your damsel in distress crisis – you’re the damsel, by the way – and ‘oohhh no, I’m so in love’ hullabaloo is nothing.”

Adrien’s frown deepens. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You do. Your voice goes like eee .”

“What? No it doesn’t”

“You’re right, it’s more like ahhh . ”

The heat in Adrien’s acid eyes smarten. He crosses his arms, huffing in a way he hasn’t since early childhood, and glares at his ceiling. “I’m done talking to you.”

He isn’t, of course, as there’s only one person in his life he can complain to about his array of #RelatableTeenBoy issues, like ditching your favourite topic of Physics one class to cater to a Giant Baby akuma (again) and being late due to lack of places to change into your skin-tight cat suit (you know; just those little things). And by Hawk Moth’s insufferable menacing he isn’t letting that outlet fall from under him. He needs to clear his thoughts, because believe him, there is a lot to sift, and it doesn’t help when part of this whole catastrophe has left him with the knowledge that—

“Marinette is Ladybug!”

Plagg has moved to Adrien’s three-panelled computer desk and is clicking through something. “I’m so glad you’ve caught up.”

“And if she’s Ladybug, that means,” he goes on, white overshirt sleeves now uneven as he animates his words with a pillow, “she was just saying to me – to Chat – she was in love with him to save her identity! And there’s another boy she’s in love with! And–! And I might know who it is!”

“Who?” Plagg asks, the volume juxtaposing his welder’s.

“I said 'might’.”

The keys click louder. “You mean because you know Ladybug in real life you could have met him before? Or you actually know him?”

“I don’t know! I just know that Marinette’s… She’s in love with another guy.” The earlier exhilaration drains and his chest feels hollow and soul-sucking. “Wait– I can’t ask her to be my fake-girlfriend!”

The destructive god scrolls through the itemised shopping cart to double-check his fromage orders without any fear of his owner noticing. Well you obviously don’t have a choice. Your dad wants her over for dinner. Besides, it’s Ladybug, remember? She’ll do anything to help a friend out.”

Ladybug.

Marinette.

Of course.

There are still many things that don’t add up (Multimouse: just how?) but of course.

He can’t risk his own identity and hers to his father. He must keep the façade up. And if that mean s falling on his knees in front of who unarguably should be the most glorified woman in the world, crying to her to please just be his fake – very much, but unfortunately fake – girlfriend.

He will.

He’ll do it right now.

“I can’t believe you chickened out.”

Walks to school, even with the cost of waking up earlier, are always more refreshing than drives in cold silence. The freedom here is less pale, and he can hiss at Plagg all he wants with only the dignity loss of onlookers noticing him crankily talking to himself.

“Oh wait, yes I can. Because you’re a coward~. ”

“I did not ‘chicken out’,” Adrien snaps. “And I’m no coward. I just— I need to speak to her in person instead. This way, she didn’t have to receive an unwanted call so late.”

“You mean six?”

He huffs. “Marinette needs all the sleep she can get.” He pokes the creature back into his overshirt. “She’s always so busy. Even you’ve seen her collapse in class. Wait—!”

The only one that waits is himself, columned with the line of trees ahead, locked in the interval of his soap opera as his audience darts for a shiny rock near a fire hydrant.

“Because she’s Ladybug too! Of course! Of course! This makes so much sense! She’s so tired and overworked! It’s no wonder she’s all over the place – in the best of ways, I mean, she’s literally adorable when she’s frantic. Wait, have I always thought that? Have I always seen Marinette as the cutest thing ever? Her spluttering is so endearing. And if she’s already so tired, I can’t make her fake date me, too! She’s already so stressed! I’d literally be the scum of the earth if I even dare—”

Plagg is staring at him with flat interest. Humbly aware of his judgement, Adrien swallows, letting the air untense and clams his hands – eager to narrate his animated allegory – in his pockets in strife to get a grip.

He sighs.

“What if I mess it up, Plagg?”

He inventories his new rock in Adrien’s satchel. A hymn of silence roots in the place of what should be a snide remark. But there is no fed-up comment, just a kwami wriggling under his overshirt out of sight and a solemn voice that issues from it,

“Kid, you’re partners. You work together. You forgive each other. You trust each other. And if Ladybug trusts you,” he sticks his head out a little more, “find it in you to trust yourself. You won’t mess this up if you put her and her identity’s safety first, which I know you will, because you love her and you’re a great hero.”

Adrenaline dampening, Adrien smiles.

“Thanks, Plagg.”

Marinette has never believed in bad luck until she met Chat Noir (fifty Mr Pigeon akumatisations this year with a feather allergy? The next lucky charm is going to be an Epi-pen) and for a while, she didn’t believe in good luck, even with being Ladybug.

But that was then. Back then, meaning like, ten minutes ago before she was invited to stay back after PE by Adrien.

Right now, though? Right now, she��s decided she’s going to hand-sew a bedazzled shirt embossed with, “Goddess of Luck” to wear while Ladybug on patrol (and on the back, a quote she woke up to on Instagram this morning: ‘“can also kick ass” – Adrien Agreste’ (she took ten screenshots when he posted that)), because Marinette has good luck.

“You’ll be doing me a huge favour,” the ass-kicking quoter says on an afternoon she has not planned to receive the most exciting request of her life.

And you know what she says?

You know what the stuttering girl who may as well trademark the word ‘GAH’ she falls that much, says?

You’ll never guess.

No really, you won’t.

Because turns out, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is more than just accomplished.

So what if she thrones the winning title of a Gabriel fashion comp? What even matters of being class president and an all-around likable person? Who takes notice of another fashion mogul inviting you to live in New York because of your talent? ––An invitation you had to decline because, you know, being Paris’ zero-pay superheroine has a sprinkle more of importance. And oh, did she mention she’s Ladybug? Because she’s Ladybug. A superhero.

But none of that matters right now.

“I’d be happy to help.”

Because she’s said yes.

She—Marinette McStutter Dupain-Cheng—has said yes with her mouth (not vague hand animations over blubbering nonsense) to Adrien, and although her muscles are locked with their key over the Eiffel tower (and the tiny detail that her thoughts are screaming so much she can’t hear a thing of his relief and numerous ‘thank you’s), she’s still said yes!

Screw every other accomplishment. She’s said yes to being Adrien’s fake girlfriend.

Ladybug? Nah, that’s Mrs. Fake Agreste to you.

Good luck is real.

Okay but sure, ‘Fake girlfriend’ doesn’t exactly live up to ‘Very real girlfriend’, but being a fake isn’t that bad! She’s seen Lila do it every day for months – oh, hang on, no actually the term ‘fake’ has very negative and huge implications, then. However, in Marinette’s heavenly-blessed case, ‘fake’ means she’s doing a very big favour for a friend and is going to get more time with Adrien – just to name a few positives.

“Seriously Marinette, you have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t believe I’m so lucky to have a friend like you.”

‘Oh honey, I’m the lucky one. ’

“It’s– It’s no problem! Yeah! Really, I’ll come to dinner, no problem! It can’t be too hard. I can be your girlfriend! Eugh– Pretend girlfriend. It’s not hard being in love with you! I mean– Ugh!”

The monstrosity that is the never-shutting-up hole in her face is blocked off by frantic hands, stifling the last of her eloquent groan. But peering up, she realises she really has underestimated how much this means to Adrien, because he looks like he’s poised on a cliff of ecstasy ready to fall – eyes verdant, big, and lushed over with a hue of moisture that twinkles, and a smile so bright and toothy the sunlight hollowing out the remaining shade of the PE stadium glints off it.

In fact, her mess of a speech is such a compliment to Adrien that her locked-limbed body is suddenly engulfed by his. Startled in delightful senses of the word, she squeaks, and he quickly pulls away, face a few rose tones darker than before as his hands twitch at his side unsurely.

“Uhh, I guess we have to get planning.”

She watches in transfixed attraction as Adrien picks both their schoolbags up, finally blurting (without any squeak, she may add),

“Y–Yes. We do.”

(she didn’t say any stutter, so shut up.)

“Would your father let you come over right now since school’s almost finished?”

He casts a look to the exit thoughtfully. His flawless side-profile in high resolution before her, she sees the corner of his mouth quirk up in an unsettling familiar way, as if his whole charisma shifts to someone else’s.

They do need to plan; to run away together, where only they share this odd secret - a place alone together where they'll look each other eye-to-eye and practice their sonnets of love to construct a believable facade for his father-

“It’s more fun sneaking to my girlfriend’s house, isn’t it?”

That time, she squeaks.

And comes to the daunting realisation:

Marinette is screwed.

#I’ll add the @s in the replies cos I know people wanted a part 2 #it took me YONKS to effectively post this #also thanks again to the person who created the idea to let me do this #it’s kinda steered from the envelop theme and a full-fledged fake dating au I guess #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #adrienette #adrinette #identity reveal #original content #em writes

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krabstick32 · 4 years

Text

Corduroy Dreams

Pairing: Giyuu & Reader Synopsis: There was no mishap, no death, no tragic accident to speak of. They were only two people, who felt lonely even when they had each other.

Tags/warnings: angst. relationship problems.

A/N: something short and angsty that I wrote instead of doing homework UwU. Online classes are killing me, so as a coping mechanism, I did the fun thing and churned this out in an hour or so (so apologies for any mistakes/inconsistencies _:(´□`」 ∠):_ )!!! And yes, the title is from the song Corduroy Dreams by Rex Orange County. (try listening to it while reading, and try to listen to the lyrics. You’ll understand why i named this corduroy dreams)

I hope you enjoy!! or not since, you know, this is my try on angst after all... but i hope u still enjoy uwu

For the first time in a while, Giyuu feels your hand—warm, soft, and familiar—reach out to tug at his jacket. You pull him aside to a quiet area in the park and lead him to take a seat. Besides the two of you, there was no one else, save for the occasional passerby who was barely even close enough to hear the conversation you were about to start.

“You’re no longer happy.” It wasn’t a question - there was nothing questionable about something that was so painfully obvious.

Not with you, he wants to say. He wants to salvage what he can, but he could see it. He could see how your eyes didn’t light up the way it used to and he’s aware that this relationship was failing. There was nothing else he could do.

“I am.” But not with you, he itched to add. He was unhappy that your happiness no longer included him, but he couldn’t say what he wanted, not when you were looking at him like this. “And so are you.”

Maybe this was it. No, this was it. There was no coming back from this conversation, and that’s why he never started it. He was too much of a coward to instigate it, and perhaps the only regret he had when it came to this relationship was that he pushed that responsibility onto you.

“Yeah.”

He was aware that this relationship has been failing—both of you tried to save it after all. There wasn’t an exact moment where he could pinpoint when it started. All he knew was that despite making plans and meet-ups, you two started seeing each other less and less, until it left you both on this date, unhappy and feeling heavy with what was about to come.

“I’m sorry.”

There didn’t need to be any more questions. Giyuu knew you were faithful, and you knew he never strayed. It was just a matter of letting go and accepting that this was going nowhere.

“I know. I’m sorry too.” You turn from your seat on the bench and Giyuu has never felt so far away from you, even though there was only a foot of distance in between.

He still loved you. He still loved you so, so much. But when you were no longer happy with him, he wouldn’t be able to bear the thought that you no longer wanted to be in this relationship. So, if his only regret when it came to you was that you were the one who started this, he’ll lessen your burden and be the one to end it. “I… I guess this is it?”

“I guess this is it.” Your hands turn white from how hard you’ve been clenching them into fists, and he could see them trembling slightly. Any other day and he would’ve taken them in his own—you always liked it when he held them. Right now, he kept his hands to himself.

“We’re breaking…” His throat closes at the word breaking, because he could feel his own heart already breaking. But he clears his throat and pushes on, because you deserve a clean break. You deserve to have a clear stand between all of this. “We’re breaking up, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You answer, and look at him when the silence starts to feel unbearable.

“I’m sorry Giyuu.”

“I’m sorry too, (y/n)”

You stand, and turn to look at him. He gives you a small smile—he knows you could see through it. Instead of addressing the heavy atmosphere, you smile at him, and he realizes that this would be the last time you’d smile for him.

“Thank you, Giyuu. I really loved you.”

Loved. Past tense.

“...Yeah. Thanks for the past few years too. I hope you find someone who’ll make you happy.”

You bend down a little and pull him into a hug. He’ll miss this, he’ll miss you, but letting you go was the right thing to do. Your happiness is what he wishes for the most in the world, and if that was no longer with him, then he hopes you find it with yourself or someone else.

The hug ends entirely too soon for Giyuu’s taste, and you give him another small smile before you turn on your heels to hide the tears clouding your eyes. Even if this relationship no longer brought you the joy it did the first few years, leaving him still hurt because you still cared for him even if you didn’t necessarily love him anymore. Breaking things off when you no longer had feelings for him was the kindest thing you could do - he deserved that much.

From the bottom of your heart, you apologized that you couldn’t give your all to him, and wished that someone else would, in your place.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Giyuu nods, but then speaks when he realizes you can’t see him with your back turned. “See you.”

Your shoes clack against the pavement and it sounds like it’s echoing through the park as you leave him be.

He watches your back, and he watches as you get on the cab. He beats down the feeling of wanting to chase after you, but this was already hard enough. So he stays put on the park bench that he’ll hate for the rest of his life, and buries his head in his hands.

For the first time in a while, Giyuu cries.

a/n: I mostly do Giyuu fluff but I procrastinated real bad and made this mess instead but aaaa, this is my first angst fic so I hope I did good? I’ve also never been in a relationship, let alone a break-up before so this has been me, winging it the entire time lmao

i’m currently working on a request, but im still trying to think up of a good premise for it, so its going a little slow. But to the anon who requested it, dw bb!! i am working on it, it just might take a while

anywayzz, i hope i made u sad. u can come yell at me in my ask box if you need any tissues (or if you have any requests uwu)

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theplumsoldier · 3 years

Text

fear he who fears nothing

prologue summary: as a public figure living in modern germany, you would have thought your past was just that, just a past, but now, it has come back to haunt you and pushes you into the clutches of one baron zemo, while making you acquainted with the american heroes, falcon and the winter soldier.

series warnings: vulgar language: cursing; explicit scenes: mentions of blood, explosions, shootings, torture, injuries; a wannabe’s pathetic try at german; hinting at sexual themes.

a/n: little german is used in this but enough that i felt the need to add translations. translations will be marked as italic and are hedged in between “<>”. note i am not familiar with the languages colloquialisms so if you notice something wrong with my translations, you are most welcome to message me! this is the prologue to my series “fear he who fears nothing”. it will kick of in the next year in will be no longer than around six to seven parts. i haven’t figured it all out yet, but im working it out and updating along the way!

The two men, the ones whose identities later would be divulged and state to be an age-old relic and a national hero on the lam, did not at all fit into the club. It was always dark inside the White Lady, however the blinding lights – which one would not be wrong in their observation, should they deter them prone to trigger epileptic seizures – could not hide the two most rigid gents standing tall in the midst of the dance floor. You can ask why one, who does not dance, would stand on the dancefloor, however, your words would be in vain and your time lost, for Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes do not have time for anyone who is not Baron Zemo—

Who in this very second was in full swing of a Super Smash Bros match, using your club for arena.

The White Lady was a luxurious club, everyone in Germany was well aware of that. A place for important people and all who frequented the state of the art club knew the person next to, too, spent money like water. It was not a space for gang violence and illegalities, so when security had let them distract for just long enough, politicians and business owners, men and women of wealth ran around, much portraying the image which comes to mind when one would think of a fox entering a henhouse.

Panicking, people ran about like headless chickens, not for the exit, per say; for when in shock, instinct conquers rationality, sprinting and pushing their peers as if their lives depended on it. In a way it did, but in a club of important Europeans, they were not the target. Should they injure tonight, it would merely be in the result of the live American action movie-like fight which had now taken to the balcony lounge.

It took a rough shove to the back to send you back to the current state of affairs. It dawned on you now you would have to act, howbeit you had yet to figure out in which way.

Ushering past the frantic dancers that previously had revelled, you went pretty much unnoticed up the stairs. Pretty much unnoticed surpassing entirely unnoticed due your loyal bodyguard.

You quelled the urge to scream at the fighters when two of them pretty much shot through the air, hurling through at least 30k worth of ceiling lights.

They were the ones you had heard of multiple times through the years now: They were the “good guys”, from America. Albeit as they impoverished you, ruining 10 years of blood and sweat, before your very eyes, they were far from the good guys. Having pushed through what you had over the years, it now became clear if anybody was going to push you to your knees it had better be in another setting, with a whole other mood–preferably with some Frank Ocean in the background.

“Na los, komm schon!” Lina called, shoving you back down the stairs to get you out of danger. Your safety was her priority and so she updated security of your location via her Bluetooth earpiece. <Let’s go, come on!>

You were halfway down the stairs when the sound of an explosion went off. It was impossible to tell where it came from, but the next thing you knew was shattered glass raining from the ceiling. A group of red lights had severed from the ceiling and judging by the panic-stricken cries people were hurt.

The lights were suddenly killed, the whole club jet black for seconds until the standby generator switched on. You used this to your advantage, and scurried past Lina. You knew she only acted in your best interest, however your moral compass did not allow this terrorist to destroy your club.

When the lights turned on, the whole place lit up in a hideous yellow light, the kind you will find makes life difficult for drug addicts. This allowed you to properly see the damage done. It made you angry, seeing all these people suffer in your club; foreigners using your territory as playground.

“YN!”

“Schafft sie hier raus! Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass es hier oben kein Versteck gibt! Die Polizei soll Krankenwägen schicken, die Türsteher sollen die Umgebung sichern! Bin gleich draußen!” Lina protested, stepping up the staircase but you were adamant, and if Lina had learned one thing in her many years of her current position, it was that you were stubborn and steadfast as hell. “Ich komme schon klar, kümmern Sie sich um die Kunden!” <Get them out of here! I’m going to make sure there’s no hiding up here! Contact the police and have them send ambulances, have the bouncers secure the perimeter! Be right out!” > <I’ll be fine, tend to the customers!>

With that you sprinted down the hall to your office, punching in the code to unlock the door. At least your safe space was still intact. For now.

Getting the gun from the classic secret-safe-behind-the-wall-painting spot, you swiftly checked the chamber for rounds at full tilt. Finding only five bullets, clicked it back in place and took a second to exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Checking the chamber was about as nifty as your skills – if one could even call it that – got, so let’s just say it was going to be fun carrying out your little idea, threatening them.

You made sure to only hit the floor – it had to be replaced anyway – when shooting, and if a couple of toes would suffer your not-at-all refined skills, so be it–better that than accidentally killing one of these buffoons because you were not about to have a death on your conscience.

That got their attention.

“Y’all better get the fuck out of my club now!”

Shooting pretty much fuelled your wrath, but a fuming woman with a gun in her hand was something to fear, and you wholeheartedly trusted these idiots knew that.

“Ma’am, you should get—”

“Shut up!” seethed you, jaw clenched as much as the index finger you kept hovering over the trigger. “Now!”

You had lost sight of the bird-man. You hoped he had the decency to have grabbed a broom by now, cleaning up what chaos he so ignorantly had commenced with his little cyborg friend.

“Ah, Miss YN,” charmed Helmut Zemo then, not letting down his guard to the soldier not far from him, but he allowed himself to send you a duplicitous smile, evidently having convinced himself that this was a friendly visit.

But you had two bullets left and one hell of a grudge against this one.

“I was hoping to find you here,” spoke he, he thick-laced accent ringing through the room with an aftertaste of a memory of someone you once knew. “Perhaps we could have a little... Chit-chat, hm? Put down the gun, will you?”

“Du Hurensohn!” swore you and grit your teeth. “There are other ways to reach out to a person than destroying their livelihood!”

“Well, I had to get your attention, you understand—”

“Yeah, you got it alright! Now get the hell out of my club before I blow out your brains!”

That is if there are any left, you thought, waving the gun towards the exit. God, you hoped the police had the place surrounded.

Sirens sounded from the street, and the Winter Soldier took the opportunity – Zemo being distracted with you – to charge at him, attacking him with a knife. Zemo noticed the change in your expression, and thwarted the attempt.

You did not noticed the man coming up from behind you before he had you in a neck lock, pulling you away from the balcony railing. Screaming, you pulled the trigger, trying to twist your arm around, while out of his reach, and shoot him blindly. To no avail, however. The sound of the shots must have been what ushered the police through the doors, yelling and firing warning shots to stop the whole affair.

You could not be sure, though, for while you struggled for air, clawing at the assailant’s muscular arm, you vision veiled in black and the last thing you felt before drifting off, was a heaviness taking you to sleep.

#fatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #sam wilson #falcon #the winter soldier #marvel #the avengers #sebastian stan smut #Sebastian Stan #anthony mackie #anthony mackie smut #marvel smut #baron zemo

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wtfevenismypage · 4 years

Text

Whodunit

Request: A male reader fic where the reader works for shield but is caught by the BAU because they think he’s the killer they are looking for but in reality he’s also trying to catch the killer and he has to stay under cover so he’s like it’s not me but I that’s all I can tell you but if you let me go I’ll catch the criminal and they’re all like that sounds kinda sus (you can choose if you wanna add romance this is about as far as I can think)

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Ahhhhh, my two favorite fandoms combine at last! This isn’t my best work, but i am exhausted and i haven’t eaten in a solid ten hours so yeah, im alright though! Love you all!

A single mirror was in the room. A table and a chair where you sat, waiting in silence.

Just minutes ago, you were brought into a police station for “murder”. The worst part? You were undercover and could absolutely not give yourself away.

A tall muscular man walks in, a suit dressing him nicely.

“I’m agent Hotchner, I have a few questions for you, you must be aware of why you’re here by now correct?”

“You got the wrong guy Hotchner. I would very much so enjoy my phone call right now though.”

“You’ll get your phone call, first answer some questions.”

You sigh, leaning back in the chair as he sits in front of you.

“You and two other men arrived to town recently, according to hotel management, and after searching through the room we discovered a wide array of guns. Would you like to explain those?”

Oh how you hoped Bucky and Steve noticed your disappearance and got you out of their quickly.

“Those are my friends, they sell guns legally and I’m a little short on money right now so I roomed with them.”

“And why were you in town?”

“I was on the run from my ex, I applied to get a restraining order but it was denied so now I have to run on my own, I kind of trust my brothers who own guns rather than anyone else.”

Agent Hotchner searches your face, as if looking for a clue or hint that you’re lying.

Yeah right, you think to yourself, I was trained by Natasha Romanoff herself. I won’t crack.

“What’s your ex’s name?”

“Brock Rumlow.”

You weren’t exactly lying, Brock was your abusive ex, but he wasn’t why you were here.

“Brock Rumlow huh? What about your brother’s names?”

“I’m sorry what does any of this have to do with me being a murder suspect?”

“Just checking your alibi.”

You sigh, rubbing your face.

What were their false names again?

Oh right.

“Jerk and Punk. Yes those are their real names. Our parents are deadbeats who were high when my mom gave birth and they shortly thereafter abandoned us.”

“What are your parents names?”

“I don’t know I was two, Jerk and Punk were three.”

He nods before walking out of the room.

“So can I call someone or nah?”

Hours later, a new man walks in, More muscly and a dark complexion. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t hot.

“Well hello there. Y’all forget about lil’ ol’ me for a minute out there?”

He plops a phone in front of you,a call dial on the screen.

“Your phone call.”

He walks out of the room again, leaving you alone with a phone, and many many options.

Your first thought is dialing Steve or Bucky, but odds are they wont\’t pick up a number they don’t know. And Tony, Tony is to busy all the time for a number he doesn’t know, unless you call his personal number.

Only issue? You can barely remember it.

But you try anyways.

“That looks about right.”

You say after typing in a number, hoping it’s right before holding it to your ear and listening to it dial.

After six rings, finally, you hear his voice.

“How the hell did you get arrested for murder?”

You chuckle. Of course Tony found out.

“I din’t kill a single person tones. You know me. Can you get me out of here? Get Steve to bust his red white and blue ass in here and kidnap me back to the compound?”

“Yeah yeah I’m on my way to bail you out. For now though, try to stay on their good side and don’t piss off the powerful men.”

You smile, all of your well-hidden stress washing away, “Will do Iron-Man.”

You hang up on him, pressing the phone back on the table and leaning back in your chair, and just moments later the same muscle mgee walks in to retrieve the phone.

“Iron-man huh?”

You just smirk. You weren’t a super well known avenger, you were only known by the team.

“Yep.”

You pop the ‘p’, chuckling as he stares at you confused, but walks away, only for the first man to return.

“Wanna tell me who you called?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He grimaces before tossing a file in front of you.

“Then how about why you’re working with Captain America and The Winter Soldier.”

You flinched, but not that they found out, more so at his disgust laced voice as he spoke the second name.

“Don’t call him that. When you refer to him you call him James.”

You knew you had no authority right now, but you couldn’t bear to listen to people Call him that.

“Alright, tell me about James.”

You glare at him, hesitant to tell him anything at all.

“He’s a fucking great guy. Everything he once did wasn’t his fault and the government are all prissy assholes who don’t look deeper into anything. There’s a murderer on the loose and you’re focused on me.”

You couldn’t stop the venom dripping in your voice, but the man didn’t look surprised.

“Well I’m sorry you feel that way sir.”

You scoff loudly tongue pressing into the slimy flesh of your cheek.

“Sorry that I feel that way!? I’ll have you know that I-”

You’re cut off by a loud crash outside of the room, and a smile replaces your upset grimace as you know exactly what it is.

Tony. He bursts into the room in his full iron suit, the mask off.

“Hello agent Hotchner, how have you been? How’s the missus?”

“Dead.”

“My deepest condolences, is Jack alright?”

The agent nods as you stare in shock at the conversation sparking between the two middle aged men.

“So you kind of have one of my agents, and he’s on a time critical mission, so sorry to disrupt your little, murder investigation, but he needs to get on the field again.”

“Of course, had he just told me he worked for you I would have let him go immediately.”

You scoff, holding your cuffed hands up to the now smirking agent. He easily undoes the cuffs, letting you latch onto Tony’s suit.

“Goodbye Hotchner, as fun as this has been, let’s never do it again!”

You say smirking, as Tony flies off.

“Awwww they took my suit!”

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 3 years

Text

Hunchback of Notre Dame (One-Shot)

-------------------------

It's a lesson as old as time itself really, never judge a book by its cover, never judge a beast by its claws, thousands of iterations all equal to the very same principle.

But there are people who refuse to take such principles to heart, and would in fact rather spread principles in direct opposition.

Werecreatures have never had a very good reputation, from the animal-like designs to the depictions of their kind as unkind and ruthless. So trying to find a place to stay was much more difficult than it should have been.

"Four travelers for safe passage into the mindscape," a voice shrouded by a cloak muttered, waving down another werecreature, this one holding a bundle in its arms.

The bundle was crying, as though aware of the horrific events that would occur just beyond that gate.

"We've been tricked!"

"Judge Doyle!"

The werecreature holding the bundled skittered away on the eight spindly appendages protruding from it's back, paying no mind to the sound of footsteps against stone rapidly gaining in it.

Until it hit the ground with a sickening crack, and went stock still, the bundle falling to the ground like a rock.

Doyle had always been a cruel man. He'd trained his own son, Patton, to fear him, and to in turn fear that which opposed him.

And it was Doyle who had found the spider's body.

It was Doyle who took the bundle from the still and cold arms of its mother.

And it was Doyle who attempted to drown the eight-eyed and multi-limbed child that resided within.

"STOP!" Doyle only gave momentary pause at his son's call.

"What are you doing?." Patton said as he reached the bottom of the steps.

"Sending this creature to the dark side, right where it belongs," Doyle said coldly.

"You've killed an innocent person, and you believe the best course of action is to add the blood of a child to your crimes? What would Thomas think. . ." Patton said.

That had struck a nerve, the bundle was moved from the well.

"And what do you suggest I do?." Doyle snapped, thinking he'd stumped the man in front of him.

"Care for it, you've raised one son, what's another?" Patton said, raising an eyebrow.

"Me? Saddled with this- this-" Doyle paused for a few moments.

"Very well, we'll keep him in the old bell tower, by your village," Doyle said.

And he christened the child Virgil.

Virgil grew up lonely, terrified of even the slightest idea of leaving his tower.

His tower covered with bells and cobwebs and a table at the center with wooden constructs of the other denizens of the mindscape.

He grew up with no memory of his family other than those fed to him by Doyle. False memories of betrayal.

He grew up looking into the mirror and seeing eight eyes staring him back, each a cruel and sharp reminder of his inability to exist outside of that tower.

Patton had tried his best to undo such conditioning, but rarely was Patton allowed into the tower.

Today was a day Virgil remembered well, a festival of delight and chaos.

The Feast of Fools.

Patton had tried desperately to convince Virgil to attend, but Virgil was firmly locked under Doyle's heel, the spider caught in it's own web.

That is, for a moment.

One conversation at the dinner table, a recitation of the alphabet punctuated by far to many hisses and clicks, and Virgil was ready to flee.

He stitched up his own cloak, pulled it over his head, and ran out.

It was terrifying. His ears rang and his eyes burned like ash.

And then it all seemed to stop as he fell through cloth, instead punctuated by a gasp.

And then he was face to face with the most beautiful man he'd ever seen in his life. Eyes of golden yellow, hair of a deep brown, and scales of emerald. He was gorgeous, and he was holding Virgil's face as though it were a priceless glass treasure.

"I-Im sorry I-" Virgil stammered.

"Nonono, it's alright, you poor thing, you dont look very adept to sunlight do you?" He spoke softly, almost as if he though Virgil might flee if he were to loud.

Virgil shook his head slightly.

"Itll be fun, you should join the crowd, the light's much less likely to hit you there," and Virgil felt a soft kiss on his forehead before he rejoined the festivities.

And then came the main festival, someone he didnt recognize talked upstage and sang. Dark blue and purple hair like a galaxy bouncing around their face.

"Come one! Come all! Make an entrance to entrance- see the mystery and romance~" they purred as they backed toward the curtains.

"Come one! Come all! Hurry hurry heres your chance- see the finest man in France, dance Janus dance!" And then they were gone, replaced by the man Virgil had met before, now dressed in yellow and black cloth, his hair hidden under a hat.

Virgil flinched as Janus got closer and closer to where Doyle was watching the stage, wrapping a golden scarf around his neck as though Janus planned to choke him.

And then Virgil lost track of what was happening, until he was on stage, and he heard gasping.

He froze, he could almost feel Doyle's gaze from the other end of the stage.

And then the screams and gasping stopped, to be replaced with laughter. A crown was placed on Virgil's head, a cape fitted over the spindly legs sticking out from his back.

He smiled, the first genuine smile he'd had in decades.

Squelch

Virgil wasnt sure where the tomato had come from. Only that more were following, and suddenly ropes were tugging at his limbs,he tried to fight them off, tried calling for his father.

But Doyle only smiled and looked away. His guardsman, a man dressed in white and gold armor, green eyes wide with shock, made a single move toward Virgil, but was held back.

And then everything stopped, he felt hands against the ropes, heard Doyle call for someone to get down.

And then he was once again face to face with Janus.

"I'm so sorry. . . No one deserves this. . ." Janus said quietly before standing up, a hand firmly around Virgil's arm as he regained his own balance.

"You mistreat this poor man the same way you mistreat us all! You would call him a son and yet what freedom has he known! Compared to your only other son! What justice has been served as their spirits are crushed under the heels of men like you!." Janus snarled. Virgil saw a slight movement from the bell tower, likely Patton hiding behind a pillar before Doyle could catch his eyes.

"Silence." Was Doyle's only response.

"JUSTICE!" Janus called. Doyle pointed toward his guards, then toward Janus.

"Oh dear. . . Well let's see theres-" Janus pointed to each of the advancing guards and muttered under his breath "-ten of you, and one of me, oh what's a poor snake to do?" Janus pulled a yellow cloth from his dress and began to cry into it, before sneezing. . . And disappearing off stage.

Vitgil watched with intrigue as Janus led the guards throughout the square before disappearing into the building that made up the lower half of his bell tower.

Doyle beckoned for his head guard to follow him, before turning his eyes to Virgil.

And thus began Virgil's tearful walk back to the top of the tower.

His chest ached, he thought of Janus' hands caressing his face, of those eyes and scales and the way his lips quirked in a fashion that couldve been read as a sneer, were it not for the fact that his eyes looked as though they'd witnessed a miracle.

Virgil heard singing from the lower level of the tower, and upon further investigation, discovered that Janus had even more talents than Virgil had first thought.

So finally, he resolved to help him.

"Theres guards at every entrance, how exactly do you expect us to do this?" Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

"No one said we had to use a door," Virgil said with a sly grin.

"Hold on," he said, he felt Janus' arms around his waist, it was awkward, Janus had to have been almost two feet taller than he was.

Virgil reached one of his webs, pulled, and jumped off of the tower, Janus tried his best not to scream as they fell.

They said their goodbyes and Virgil pushed the necklace Janus had given him under his hoodie, he couldnt have it discovered, he'd rather die than be the reason Janus got hurt.

Which was why he'd decided to pin Roman to a wall when he came up the stairs.

"Woah woah woah- hey- I'm not here for him I promise! I helped him declare sanctuary!" Roman whisper-yelled.

"Then why are you here now." Virgil snarled.

"Just- tell him I'm sorry, and tell him I hope he's safe," Roman said.

Virgil paused for a moment before letting Roman down.

"You know. . . Janus is lucky to have you. . ." Roman said as he trodded down the stairs.

Things only seemed to get worse from there, Virgil could hardly breath as smoke rose from the ground, the crackling of fire mixing with the screams of the were-creatures who refused to give away Janus' location.

Until Janus showed up at Virgil's tower himself, this time carrying Roman's body in his arms.

"He was shot. . . Almost through the heart. . ." Janus said quietly. Virgil nodded and gathered up cobwebs to make bandages. He wished he couldve made fresh ones, but it had been many years since he'd stopped being able to use that ability.

"He can stay with me- you need to run, fast," Virgil said, shooing Janus away. Janus pressed one last kiss on Roman's lips before fleeing.

And soon Roman himself was on the run alongside Virgil. Both on a mission to keep Janus and his people from a gruesome death at Doyle's hands.

Virgil wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting from the Court of Miracles, but it certainly wasnt the same galaxy-haired catboy from the stage prancing around in front of a set of gallows gleefully calling out the supposed misdeeds of Virgil and Roman, before declaring their imminent deaths on the charge of complete innocence.

"Stop! These arent enemies! They're our friends!" And then came Janus from the crowd.

Everything happened all to quickly after that. Screaming and racing around trying to escape as their plans came crashing at Doyle's feet.

And then Virgil found himself chained to a tower.

And watching Janus standing on a pyre, straw littering his feet, flames kicking up around him.

And Virgil only felt one emotion, rage.

Chains were pointless. Chains were stifling and unnecessary and Virgil wanted nothing to do with them. He only wanted Janus safe and in his arms.

So it was quite the disappointment when he discovered Janus' lack of breath.

"You killed him. . ." Virgil muttered as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I had to. . . I only wish it had happened before he'd done such damage to you. . ." Doyle muttered. Virgil noticed a knife being brought towards him in the shadows on the walls.

That blade wouldve looked so much better in Doyle's heart. But fire worked quite well to.

Virgil had been afraid if the sun for quite some time, afraid of anything to do with the outside. But it was much easier to get through when he had his hands intertwined with both Janus and Roman's, and when he wasnt stifled by a fear of his own face.

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#cori writes #ts patton #ts virgil #ts sides #ts roman #ts janus #tw abuse #tw murder #tw child abuse #tw fear #tw fire #tw genocide #disney aus #anaroceit #romantic anaroceit #roceit #anxceit #prinxiety

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bakubitch-minusultra · 3 years

Text

Not Alone: Chapter Three

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck I want :3

-> Word Count: 2.4k

-> Warnings: Blood, guns, violence

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat [if you wanna be added lmk <3]

“Where did you learn to stitch someone?”

Y/n looked back over at her guest and frowned, “My dad was a survivalist. He made me go to survivor camp every summer and took me hunting all the time. When it all started he plannned for us to come here. The book shelves are lined with his survival stuff.

Mina frowned, “Did he come with you or did you come alone?”

In that instant it flashed in Y/n’s eyes. The memory of her father pinned by a truck. His hand reached out for her. She could see them coming as she felt his fingers pushed them away. Her feet listened to him and started to run. They move against her wishes.

She shook the memories off and looked at Mina, “Where are your parents?”

Her eyes went blank like Y/n’s, “My mom died of sickness in the beginning. She went to work and never came home, and dad...well, he’s gone too.” Her voice started to quiver a bit and trailed off. Y/n didn’t press any farther.

“They’re all gone Mina. All that’s left is us and them.” Y/n almost twitched when she said the words ‘us and them’. She included Mina in her ‘us’.

“Mina?” A sleepy voice came from the living room. She quickly got up and out of bed to go check on Kirishima.

“He’s burning up.”

Y/n nodded and walked into the room and stretched, “Good. His body’s fighting the infection. The tree bark from the branch wass really flakey. I tried to flush the wound as best as I could but some bark might still be in there.”

Y/n felt a small spark on the back of her hand when she rested it against the balmy skin of his forehead. He took her hand in his. It was a moment of intimacy that Y/n’s never experienced before. She didn’t pull away but she didn’t know how to react as he squeezes her hand.

“Hard to thank you when I don’t know your name.”

Y/n felt her hand trapped in and looked over the back of the couch and gave him a small smile, “My name’s Y/n.” She felt expressions play across her face and quickly pulled away from his sweaty palm. She walked to the leftover boiled water and poured him a huge glass of it and then passed it to him. “You’ll need this.”

His red eyes sparkled and suddenly Y/n’s stomach ache was back.

“Thanks. Thanks for everything. I know you could’ve left me in that hole.” Y/n broke his stare and looked at the hardwood floor.

“It was nothing.”

Mina looked over at them and grinned, “How old are you Y/n?”

“Nineteen.”

Mina smiled, “I’m eighteen.”

Y/n felt sad when Mina told her that. She realized that Mina was eight when her mother never came home from work.

“Kirishima is twenty.” The room went quiet, Y/n didn’t know how to add to the conversation. She didn’t have conservations. Hades sensed her awkwardness and padded towards her, nuzzlin his face into her palms. “Where’d you get him?” Y/n scratched his face and smiled at how Mina had already won Hades over.

“He was at the doorstep one day. I heard his mother dying in the woods near the house. She got the infection and died just after giving birth. Her cubs started to eat her and got the sickness too. Hades was the only smart one. He never ate her. He found me instead.” Y/n grimaced and tried not to think about having to shoot the baby wolves.

Mina beamed at the large wolf, “He’s huge.”

“Very, but he’s good company and helps out around the house.” Mina laughed at that. She was bubbly, Y/n remembered her grandma calling kids bubbly and wondered how bubbly Mina would be if she had a normal childhood. Y/n looked back at Kirshima who was falling asleep again. “He falls asleep fast. We need to make him some soup.” She walked to the door and looked back at Mina. “Can I trust you?”

Mina shook her head, “No, I like it here and I’ll do whatever you want to let me stay but if it comes down to it I would sell you out to save Kiri.”

“Fair enough,” Y/n liked her candor and pointed to the books on the shelf, “Start with the top shelf. They’re the easiest reads.” Mina nodded and grabbed a book. Y/n knew Mina was a survivor.

The wooden paneling of the outdated cottage was comfortable and bright with the light filtering in through the huge windows. She hasn’t seen her cabin for what it truly was until that moment. Having seen Mina and Kirishima in her house made her realize how lucky she was. She had a fleeting thought and wondered when was the last time they rested on comfortable furniture.

Hades’s yellow eyes met Y/n’s eyes, he spoke to her only with his look. He wanted to stay with them. He didn’t completely trust the new guests either, Y/n could see it in his eyes. She nodded at him and walked out of the cabin.

She needed grouse or pheasant or wild turkey. There weren't a ton of them in the area but Y/n knew a spot. The cabin sat surrounded by huge fir trees and brush, green was everywhere. It made her nervous in the beginning. It was so big compared to her and she felt like there were eyes on her from a thousand vantage points. She could see the infected stepping over the brush, arms reaching for her. Blood running from their eyes and seeping sores covering their skin. Their tattered clothes and the smell would overwhelm her as they pulled her to the ground.

She could see the other. She could hear herself scream as their greedy fingers bit into her skin and dragged her into the woods. The woods where she would scream like the other girls. The tearing of the clothes had haunted her from the beginning. The infected tore flesh and the others tore clothes and the sound could swallow you up.

But now she saw the greenery and listened to the sounds of the forest and knew that she was safe. The forest was her friend. The relationship was tense in the beginning, but it earned her trust over time. Just like Hades, it had become a part of her family. Where she lost one family, she gained another.

The branches broke under her feet but in a way that kept the birds chirping and squirrels nattering. It was a gift that she had learned from Hades. He was able to wander the forest quickly, but in sync with the woodland creatures.

She stopped at the small dip in the forest, she had a great view from there. She blended into the trees and listened as she closed her eyes and waited. She grabbed her bow and arrow and got ready and waited for the sound she was seeking. It was a pheasant.

She watched the bizarre looking face of it and it’s spectacular colors. She could tell it was male. She took a deep breath and on the exhale released the arrow perfectly. It took her two years of constant shooting to be able to down an animal at that distance. The pheasant dropped without a sound as the arrow pierced through his throat just below it’s throat. She waited an extra second before putting the bow and arrow back in a small hole and going to retrieve the bird.

While she retrieved her catch she constantly looked over her shoulder. Kirishima and his friend had been watching her for two months before she became aware of them. Her sense of security in the forest was questioned. Heat flushed her cheeks as she walked back carrying the bird by his feet. She caught herself thinking about Kirishima; his red hair and red eyes and long eyelashes.

A stabbing pain ripped through her thigh.

She looked up to see the reflection of a scope from across the small gully. She quickly dropped to the ground and layed among the brush. Her heart was beating out of control.

Mina.

Y/n was sure that she had shot her. She wants her cabin, she had made that perfectly clear. Y/n’s heart hurt for the smallest of seconds before she hardedned and came to terms with the fact that she would have to kill Mina. Flashes of her pink hair and how much she cared for her friend crossed Y/n’s mind.

Shots whizzed passed Y/n in the brush. Y/n wondered if Kirishima had known that Mina was trying to kill her. Y/n held her breath and waited. She knew Hades would come for her. Then she heard footsteps. The forest was silent as the predator moved through it. She felt a sickening hurt after she realized that she had been betrayed. She regretted helping Kirishima out of that hole. She should’ve never opened the door. She should’ve cracked open the whiskey and listened from inside her cabin and waited for Mina to die or leave.

She knew she would regret it.

Y/n looked around. There was too much brush surrounding her. Any movement she made would give away her location. She could hear the footsteps drawing closer. They were heavy in their step, breaking branches roughly. Y/n was certain that it was Mina. She was certain that she would be shot in the back of the head any minute.

The whizzing noise started again as bullets hit the tree behind her. Y/n wondered what Mina was doing and why she hadn’t just shot her already. Thinking that Mina had lost the spot where she shot her, she thanked the bush for being so thick around her. There was a heavy thump and some rustling near me and Y/n started to panic silently. She had no idea what was going on.

“Y/n,” a whisper filled the forest and Y/n looked around without rustling the bushes. “Y/n?” Suddenly she felt Hades' breath on her. She looked up to see Mina squatted beside her. As soon as Y/n saw the rifle in her hand she was filled with rage. But she knew that the bullet in her thigh wouldn’t allow her to jump up and fight Mina for the gun. She looked at Hades who was on edge. He was hunting as if Mina was his partner and that hurt Y/n more than anything. “Y/n I killed him but there might be others.”

“What?” The words left Y/n’s mouth before she could register her volume.

Mina put a finger to her lips, “He probably isn’t alone.”

Y/n looked at her gun in Mina’s hands, “You never shot me?”

Mina pointed to the bush beside Y/n, “He shot you. Why would I shoot you? What? Where are you shot?”

Y/n tried to ignore the pain as she got up on her knees, almost crying out when she made it onto her feet in a hunched position. She saw the boots of the man on the ground.

“Those are military issue,” Y/n spoke softly, scanning the forest.

“Great.”

Y/n limped over to him and bent over. Her leg was pouring blood now. She took off her outer shirt and tied it around her thigh tightly and then fished the guy’s pockets. The warmth of her blood was already seeping down her leg. The guy was older, forty maybe. He had brown hair and looked like he had been eating well. She took his gun and knife that she found in his boot and tossed some beef jerky the man had at Hades.

“We could’ve eaten that.”

Y/n looked at Mina and shook her head, “Never eat anything you take off another human. Could have the infection or be rotten.”

Mina pointed at Hades, “He could get the infection.”

“He’s immune.”

“No one is immune.”

Y/n smiled sarcastically, “I have downed sick things before and he’s eaten them. He never gets sick.”

Mina made a face as she untied the dead man’s boots, “Oh god, so he ate his mother and lived?”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah probably. I try not to think about it.”

“You said he never ate her.”

Y/n shrugged as she scanned the forest and spoke quietly, “I want to gross you out ir scare you while I was fixing your friend’s wounded leg. We just met. I was trying to be polite- get the bird.”

She took the boots and the bird and walked over to Y/n, “Need a hand?”

Y/n leaned on her and Hades came up on her other side. He was less scared now.

“He got all crazy and started scratching at the door. He tried to open the door himself. I knew something was wrong. He led me right to you.”

Y/n brushed a hand through his dense fur. It wasn’t the first time he’d saved her life and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

As they walked back to the cabin Y/n felt sick and afraid. There was no doubt that the army guy was not alone.

Her small cabin was under attack and the shirt around her leg was soaked red. She felt weak. She was afraid that the bullet was still in her thigh and thought about the fact that Mina was now the only able bodied person. Her safety and comfort was gone and in her mind she could hear the tearing and screaming again. As she walked through the door, Mina helped her to the other chair. She sat on the edge and tried to not get blood everywhere.

Hades looked worried, his eyes were concerned and full of expression. He nudged her and Y/n scratched his face and kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t believe you thought I shot you. That’s really what you think I’d do after you helped Kirishima?”

Y/n wobbled slightly from the blood loss and tried to muster a smile, “No, but I was scared. I’m glad it wasn’t you.” She felt the chair against the back of her head and the ceiling started to spin. She felt like she might throw up but then everything goes black.

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