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sherifftillman · 1 year

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What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.”

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs.

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly.

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back.

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?"

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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matan4il · 1 year

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Buddie 615 meta

Before we really get into it, I’m just gonna snicker for a second over the fact that the death doula is named Natalia. Why? The name is related to the Latin term for Christmas Day, which is the holiday when Jesus was born. So the word that the name comes from is related to birth, natal. There’s a touch of irony there, that they gave this name to the girl who is not just a death doula, but who looks like she’s actually into death (who thinks dying for a few minutes is cool or amazing. I have to say, it’s not. It’s a good thing to accept death as a part of life, one that heightens life’s meaning, and help others do the same, it’s another to think that the physically and emotionally scarring experience of being dead for a few minutes is “cool”) and I think that’s an interesting tone to choose when introducing Buck’s new Love Interest. (if you’re into it, you can find more name meanings for 911 characters here) ~~

The scene of Eddie and Chris at the cemetery was very touching. It also spoke volumes on how Buck has taken the same role in Christopher’s life as Shannon. We saw in eps 611 as well as this one that Chris is hoping to be heard by the parent that life has taken away from him (Shannon for good, Buck temporarily). What I find interesting is that with the hospital visit, Eddie must understand this on some level. Even with the guardianship reveal, no one has ever explicitly referred to Buck as Chrstopher’s other dad. But he is, and moments like this cement it. We talk about these parallels, but Eddie gets to live them. He witnesses with his own eyes his son talking about Buck in the same way he does about Shannon. Eddie KNOWS what Buck is to their family unit and it’s not just an emergency guardian. ~~

Which connects me to something I touched upon in my 614 meta, Eddie’s journey. He’s supposedly been okay with dating again since 406, but in the last ep we discovered that he’s still held back by past trauma from his failed relationship with Shannon. She’s featured heavily in this ep, too. Her being Christopher’s mom means she’s a presence in Eddie’s life who will always be there. A reminder of how things can go wrong, meaning romantically, but also just in terms of how unexpected death can be.

It pained me to go from Eddie admitting in 614 that he didn’t want to be alone, to him echoing the words of their deceased vic, “We’re all gonna die alone.” That’s something I’ve heard people saying not so much regarding the question of whether there would be someone by your side when you pass away. More like, when death claims us, we all embark on that last journey into the dark unknown on our own. Whether there’s something after death or not, we’ll all discover that completely by ourselves. That’s such a deeply lonely thought, and we see Eddie trying to deal with it in this ep by not postponing seeing his parents. He realizes he was wrong to assume they got time, because death might come for us at any given moment, just like it happened with Shannon. It’s a continuation of his journey, which is obviously not over yet, but to me it’s quite surprising how this week’s ep actually joined Buck and Eddie’s with the common theme of death, but specifically death intertwined with their romantic life. I think each of them is such a fascinating character in its own right, so why the need to connect their journeys like this? I am staring at you, 911. ~~

I was happy that Eddie brought up what a bad idea it is for Buck to be dating someone they helped on a call. This has been a theme with Buck since he meets the snake lady on a call in 101, through Ali in 202, Taylor in 206 and now Natalia. In other words, this has a big, red sign al over it that says it’s doomed to fail, but our Buck is once more failing to notice that. Hopefully the rest of the events in 6b will help him learn and stop making this particular mistake, where he connects his idea of having self-worth only as a firefighter with thinking he can only be romantically desirable to those he helps on calls. ~~

I wrote in this ask reply about the insanity of how Buck and Eddie seem to always start dating again in consecutive eps. As if 911 is not unhinged enough about that, we also have Buck and Eddie being obstructive with the other guy’s dating attempts, first Buck suggesting ghosting to Eddie as a way of blowing off his date with Vanessa in 614, and now Eddie right away pointing out that it’s not a great idea for Buck to be dating Natalia.

We have seen Buddie dating multiple people over the course of almost 5 seasons now, and not a single time have we seen either man on screen approve of their best friend’s romantic partner. Almost like there’s just no one who’s good enough for the man they love so much, right? No one, because on some level, they know what we do, too. That no one else can compete with what the two of them have together. Which is why none of these LIs feel right and acceptable as partners for their best friend. ~~

I love that right off the bat, we got a reminder that Eddie knows Buck better than everyone, on very intimate levels. Just like Eddie knew when Buck was having an emergency session with Dr. Copeland back in 404, while even Bobby as their captain didn’t, we now saw Eddie knows how well Buck handles his taxes. It’s such spouse behavior. Most of us do not have best friends who keep tabs on how we handle governmental bureaucracy, right? But then the end of this ep circles back to this idea and gives us that scene at the cemetery where Eddie proves that this is true not just when it comes to the small things of daily life. He sees Buck, knows him, understands him and Eddie accepts him in every possible way. Which is why he can say that Buck has indeed been different since the lightning strike, an awareness we don’t hear from anyone else, not even from Maddie, Buck’s very close and loving sister.

It reminded me of how Buck said in 309 that Eddie can be honest with him. Then in 511 Buck repeated a variation of that, saying Eddie doesn’t have to pretend with him. In 513 and 514, Eddie got to be indeed fully open with Buck, just as this was paralleled in 612, where Buck was honest with Eddie. This ep continued to expand on this theme, with Eddie reassuring Buck that he doesn’t need to be anything for anyone. And I loved that in an ep where Buck has just started dating someone new, where he thinks she sees him better than anyone, the person who still gets him the most is Eddie, and that’s the person Buck shares himself with the most, too. There is not a single thing Natalia said to him or that he said to her during their date that can rival the intimacy of the cemetery talk. And if Buck still needs a wake up call to see that, well. I do think there’s a good chance he’ll get one, maybe even very soon.

~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)

~~ ~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.

~~ I'm so thankful to the beautiful @eddiediaaz for the meta gifs this week! Not only did she step in when my regular giffer couldn’t do it this week, she also made so much effort to make sure the gifs are made as soon as possible, so the meta can be posted as early as possible as well. She’s just amazing and I hope everyone gives her a big round of applause! Merci, cherie!

~~ Thank you to anyone supporting these meta posts. I could never express enough how grateful I am and that they continue to exist thanks to you!

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 12)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

“We have one month, that is all. After that, two of us are back in the arena and we need to be ready.”

This meeting of district twelve’s victors is called to session a bit earlier than Haymitch would like. Not that any of them have been sleeping anyway.

“So you want us to do what, exactly?” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“I think we need to train, all of us. Everyday.” Peeta says, pointedly.

Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N squeezes her husband’s shoulder, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“You’re gonna start deadlifting until this kid comes flying out of you?” Haymitch rears back in perturbed amusement.

Y/N shakes her head. “There are things I can still do. Brush up on my skills, learn a new one.”

“I could teach her to shoot,” Katniss offers.

Y/N shrugs, “she could teach me to shoot.”

“And you could teach us how to throw knifes.”

“We’ve all won the games.” Peeta reminds Haymitch in particular. “We can all learn from each other.”

————————————————————————

A couple weeks later they sit down with the kids, unsure how to broach the topic of tonight’s discussion. But the whispers around town are loud, better they hear it from their parents than someone else.

“Do you remember when we talked about the Hunger Games?” Y/N begins.

Everest nods, they talk about it in school too. “If you win, you become a victor.”

“Right,” Y/N leans across the table a bit more.“This year is a Quarter Quell.”

“That means a special games, like Daddy’s.” Arista adds.

“This year…” Haymitch hesitates, “it means that only victors can go.”

“They can’t do that,” Everest interjects.

“But you’re victors.” Arista says, a look of realization dawning over her features.

“Let’s talk through this.” Haymitch attempts to calm his children. “I know you both have a lot of questions.”

“No, they can’t do that. It’s not fair!” Everest’s little hands ball into fists.

“Honey-”

“Are you gonna die?” He cries, angry, hot tears cascading over his cheeks. “Katniss? Peeta? What about our friends? Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick, Mags? Who’s gonna take care of us if you’re both-”

Arista’s breathing picks up and she abandons her seat, crawling into her mother’s lap, though there is not much room. “They can’t make you play with a baby in your belly.”

“Shhh.” Y/N rocks her gently. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“So that’s it? We just give up?”

“No,” Y/N locks eyes with her son. “We’re not giving up, we’re gonna fight. Every victor, all of us, to try and stop the games.”

“Maybe you can stop it.” Arista nods, against Y/N’s chest.

“Maybe we can,” Y/N agrees, “but if we can’t, just incase, we need to talk about-”

“Is Aunt Madge gonna take us?”

“That’s the very last resort.” Haymitch admits, “we don’t know whose names they’re gonna call, even then, someone else could volunteer. Ideally, one of us will be able to-”

“So what you’re saying is that after this two weeks we might never see you again?”

“We’re going to do everything we can.” Haymitch promises.

“But it’s possible?” Everest is confused, outraged.

“Yes. It’s possible.”

The days run together, between training and spending as much time with their children as they can. On that last night, the children sleep between them, Y/N on one side and Haymitch on the other, clinging to this moment.

Cruelly, inevitably, the sun rises. Madge is at their door and Y/N comes to answer, while Haymitch and the children ready themselves.

Her sister says not a word, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Thank you for coming.” Y/N breathes, smoothing down the younger woman’s hair.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Madge wishes she could do more. “I’ll do my part here and wait for you to come home.”

“They need you, Madge. Now more than ever.”

Madge only holds her tighter. “I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

Peacekeepers are sent to collect them, marching the four victors to the justice building. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen trail closely behind Madge and the Abernathy children, one clasped in each hand.

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie begins her speech, “as we celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary and third Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games.”

From his place on the stage, Haymitch can see his children. The boy, that squawked like a bird the first time he was placed in Haymitch’s arms, reminding him that the world might not be such a terrible place. The girl, that had him wrapped around her little finger before she could speak and gave him reason to dream. They look to him in fear now. Fear that they will lose their mother, fear that they will lose him.

“As always, ladies first.”

Y/N reaches for Katniss’ hand. There is nothing to hope for, no favorable outcome.

Effie draws the name, clearing her throat before announcing. “Y/N Abernathy.”

Madge lifts Arista into her arms, hushing the little girl as best she can, but she is distraught. Her hiccuping sobs causing the crowd to shift uncomfortably. Prim scoots in to rub her back.

Everest does not move. He does not blink and he does not cry. Forever ingraining this image of his mother in his mind.

Y/N can’t risk a glance at Haymitch. She knows how deeply the knife is buried in his chest, how the guilt will twist it, now and for years to come.

Katniss jerks her back almost forcefully, “no.”

“It’s ok,” Y/N whispers.

“I volunteer.”

“Katniss, please don’t do this.” Y/N pleads, but they are out of time, they are out of good choices.

“I volunteer as tribute.” Katniss announces, with more certainty the second time. Pulling her hand from Y/N’s to stand beside Effie, at the center of the stage.

“Wonderful.” Effie swallows down her sorrow, the show must go on, “and now for the male.”

Y/N’s head is light, spinning as if she might faint. Her lungs burn, perhaps she has stopped breathing.

“Haymitch Abernathy.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Peeta says, without hesitation.

“I can’t let you do that,” Haymitch stops him, with a hand to his chest.

“You can’t stop me.” Peeta narrows his eyes.

“Peeta-”

“Let go.”

Haymitch has no choice but to obey. Sending their victors back as tributes, erasing all they’ve done.

“Very well,” Effie sniffs, hoping to regain some composure, “the tributes from district twelve; Katniss Everdeen…and Peeta Mellark.”

The entirety of their district raises three fingers in solidarity. They are not alone in this sadness; this defeat. Among the crowd, Y/N finds her mother, who has not been coherent enough to attend a reaping since her own.

She’s never blamed her mother, not for her absence or her addiction, nor the inability to move past Maysilee’s untimely death. Y/N cannot imagine losing her little sister, part of her would die too.

The idea that maybe she could talk to her before she leaves, maybe her mother has some divine words of wisdom or comfort-

Commander Thread takes Katniss by the arm, robbing her and Peeta of the chance to say goodbye. Y/N and Haymitch are carted away shortly after. Straight to the train station.

The ride is silent for a long while; eventually the four of them find each other, dutifully seated in the blue velveteen chairs. Drawn together like magnets, though there are no words.

Haymitch slumps down in his chair, extending his free hand to Y/N.

She takes it, the same way she always has, with a love and understanding that Haymitch is sure he will never deserve. But that is the problem with love; with life, really. So rarely does anyone get what they deserve.

Y/N continues preparing her presentation for the morning, detailing the participating victor’s strengths and weaknesses. Hesitating at each name she knows well.

Cashmere and Gloss, district one…

The train car doors open and Effie joins them, “before we begin, I’ve had a thought.”

“You don’t say.”

Effie gives Haymitch the side eye, pressing on in spite of his remark. “Katniss has her gold mockingjay pin, I have my hair.” The swirling golden updo. “I’m going to get the three of you something gold.”

Y/N finally looks up.

“And why is that?” Haymitch wonders, sipping at his teacup, containing a bit more than leaves.

“A token! Show them we are a team, and they can’t just-”

“Thank you,” Katniss says, taking Effie’s hand.

Peeta’s gaze softens. He’s accepted his fate, the only thing to do now is make sure Katniss is happy, keep her alive.

————————————————————————

No expense is spared for this very special Quarter Quell. A new training center and tribute living quarters are waiting to greet them in the Capitol.

“I want you to forget everything you think you know about the games.” Haymitch cuts through the silence. “Last year was child’s play, this year you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”

“Ok. What does that mean for us?” Peeta asks.

“It means you’re going to need some allies.”

“No.” Katniss shoots him down.

“Do it your own way, but we know these people and if you go it alone their first move will be to hunt you down.”

“Katniss, I know it’s not easy for you to trust them,” Y/N understands how difficult this all must be. “So you’re just gonna have to trust us.”

“Fine, show me.”

Y/N makes for her tablet, dimming the lights as her slideshow is put to the big screen.

“This should be good.” Peeta relaxes farther into the loveseat beside Katniss.

“Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister from district one, they won back to back games, Capitol favorites, lots of sponsors.”

“This is your first choice?” Katniss nearly chokes on her own saliva.

“Well,” Y/N swipes to the next screen, “they’re careers so they are extremely lethal. A few other positive attributes would be strength, agility, very intelligent. They offer protection, opportunities for better sponsors-”

“Despite some favoritism and general bias on her part,” Haymitch motions to Y/N, “this a strong choice.”

Katniss nods, she’ll consider it. For Y/N.

“From district three, Wiress and Beetee. Not fighters, but brilliant and…weird, real tech savvy.”

“We chose them because they offer a unique skill set-”

“Yes.” Katniss agrees, surprising even Peeta.

“O-ok,” Y/N moves to the next contender. “This is Finnick, from district four.”

“He won his games at fourteen, youngest ever. Don’t let that fool you, he’s incredibly humble.”

“You’re kidding.” Katniss scoffs.

“Yes, he’s a peacock, a total preener,” Haymitch does not mince words, “but he’s the Capitol darling, they love him here, lots of sponsors.”

“Very skilled in combat, especially in water.”

They carry on like this for some time, through Johanna in seven, Chaff and Seeder in eleven. Leaving Peeta and Katniss much to discuss as they retire for the night.

“You think she’ll come around?” Y/N dares to ask.

“You want me to be honest?” Haymitch tosses wayward hair from his eyes.

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna take a miracle.”

————————————————————————

Watching Haymitch’s games is a necessary evil, giving them some insight into the craftings of a Quarter Quell arena. The landscape is nothing short of paradise. Vibrant colors, beautiful creatures and a feast, complete with candy, weapons, anything a tribute could ask for; right at the cornucopia.

But the food is poison and the wildlife is deadly, in the games nothing is ever as it seems.

Though Haymitch does not fall prey to the gamemarker’s trap, many tributes do. He goes it alone for a while, ending up head to head with a pack of allies. He fights, better than Katniss imagines anyone could without experience; managing to take down two out of three opponents, before the knife is held to his throat.

The girl who spares him looks familiar, in a way that Katniss can’t place, sporting the same gold mockingjay pin she was given at the hob. “We’d live longer with two of us.”

“She looks like Madge.” Peeta voices this before Katniss can.

“She’s my mom’s little sister,” Y/N explains.

And then it all makes sense, or none of it does. Another layer to their mentor’s great ‘love story’ for Katniss and Peeta to attempt dissecting, in a bizarre form of pillow talk.

Haymitch has found the edge of the arena, Maysilee wants to turn back and he doesn’t. “We should say goodbye now. There’s only five of us, don’t want it to come down to the two of us.”

“Ok,” Haymitch lets her go.

Her screams follow not long after, the bubblegum pink birds begin tearing through her throat with razor sharp beaks.

Y/N remains glued to the screen, though the ending never changes and she cannot raise the dead.

In the end, Haymitch puts the force field to good use, leading the last career and her axe to the cliff side. Holding intestines inside his body with one hand, he waits for the weapon to ricochet; burying its blade in her skull.

“That was smart.” Katniss purses her lips.

“Too smart,” Haymitch bites out in warning, “do not attempt it. That move got my family killed.” He leaves without a word.

Y/N doesn’t go after him. Sometimes Haymitch needs to be alone and if she chases him, he won’t run. He’s too good a man and he loves her too much. He would stay, even as every cell in his body yearns to go.

————————————————————————

Haymitch returns, after a bottle or two and a very interesting talk with Plutarch. There is a plan, one to extract the victors from the arena, all they have to do is stay alive until then. He searches the tribute living quarters for Y/N, finding her already asleep in their bed.

He is determined not to wake her, flipping off the forgotten light overhead and changing out of his suit.

She stirs as he draws back the covers. “Haymitch?”

“Shh,” he climbs in behind Y/N to cradle her belly, “sleep.”

“Is everything ok?” She reaches back, stroking his hair.

“Everything is fine.” He finds her hand, kissing at her wrist and fingers, before gently lying it back on the bed.

Y/N nuzzles farther against him, “ok.”

“You know I’m always coming back, right? No matter what.” Their child shifts under his palm.

“I know,” she nods.

“If anything ever happened to you-”

“Haymitch, you don’t need to say it.”

Yes I do. “When I lost my family, I kept going. Out of spite, or insanity, whatever it was that kept me going, I did it. But if you were gone…if our kids were gone; I couldn’t. I need you safe. I need you.”

“You have me.” Y/N breathes, “right here. Just you and me.”

Part 13

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating

#thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #peeta mellark #moves & countermoves

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phoenix--flying · 1 year

Text

pjo characters as things my friend group has said

Hazel: I just kinda radiate towards caves

Nico: Breathing has been taken out of Nicos software

Connor: I can speedrun to your house when you're home alone

Cecil: raisins are dehydrated rats

Percy: It's a roller coaster where the only option is to die

Will: I just goooot- my jugular sliced open by a cat

Nico: We're going out tonight and killing all the homophobes. Call it a date

Will: Why am I so much taller then- Oh its cause im standing on a dead body

Connor: You're sooo welcome. I literally did nothing

Hazel: Just because your trash doesn't mean you can't do great things. It's called a trash can not a trash cannot

Piper: Cut my hair, I'll cut your throat

Thalia: Sometimes I do slap kids

Travis: When I grow up I'm gonna be a legal drug dealer

Beckendorf: I’m going to drop kick myself into space

Malcom: Briefly describe three applications that make use of the total eternal reflection of light Connor: The colour seven

Grover: Percys reaching old age, we should put him in a retirement home

Piper: Leo what did you do Leo: I may have burned down an orphanage and it may have spread to this site.

Lou Ellen: Travelling, usually done on the ceiling

Will: Imagine sitting on your couch watching TV and your phone buzzes. Reminder: Breathe

Austin: i just broke an acorn.. panic whY IS THERE AN ACORN IN MY ROOM

Nico: i feel like today happened yesterday and i just slept for all of tomorrow and woke up in the evening

Malcom: yeah i fell down the stairs and broke my spine in 3 places Connor: that's hot

Jason: Nitroglycerin. The forbidden smoothie

Will: I always look like trash. Annabeth: I know that's why I hate looking like trash

Travis: well we only have a few minutes left of class.. y'all wanna watch something explode

Piper: It sounded like you smoked 10 packs of cigarettes and then hit puberty

Jason: Imagine you get fired the day after you die

Nico: My stomach just like...started learning German

Nyssa: Leo if you don't leave, i'm shoving this desk fan up your ass

Jason: I slammed my foot on the accelerator, running multiple red lights at 220km/h, because I wanted to drive safe

Nyssa: When you go through the car wash but you forget the car

Drew: *points at trashcan* That looks like you

Nico: I only want chemistry between me and a coffin

Jake: Gotta put your wheelchair in 4Wheeldrive. Outdoor mode. Off-road mode

Leo: Murder is ok as long as its fine

Percy: Maybe if I fall asleep on my textbook I'll wake up with all the knowledge

Connor: Let's play spin the bottle but it's only you and me

Leo: Now how do we calculate the density if swiss cheese

Clarisse: I have to ask one of the experts Chris: Who are the experts? Clarisse: I don't know

Piper: Your mom is on vacation Leo: well- she's on a permanent vacation

Michael: AYO BITCH YOUR FOODS FLAMIN THE FUCK

Silena: If you're slow I'm a fucking snail

Jason: We need to hold a funeral! Percy: Here comes the bride

Beckendorf: Have you ever died? No??? Well here you go!!! Death simulator. It’s permanent!

*Annabeth and Percy sitting on a bench with drinks and a cop drives by* Percy: What if they thought we were drinking and driving Annabeth: We're not in a car

Will: I'm so smart Nico: Oh my god since when

Piper: *gives Leo a singular goldfish* Piper: Feeding the poor

Lou Ellen: Bless your soul Nico: What soul? Lou Ellen: ...good answer

Sherman: an apple a day keeps the doctor away, and anybody else if you throw it hard enough

Connor: I can see the veins in my eyes

Ellis: Whatever sinks your boat!

Cecil: You can't kill the gays if the gays kill you first

Will: dude sorry there's a knife in your grandma's face it grew wings and flew there :( Cecil: I’m sorry my knife flew out of my hand and slit that guys throat then burned it so he wouldn’t bleed

Silena: *playing Minecraft* I walked into your house and your birds started aggressively dancing at me

Lee: That's just so unfortunate for me. That is just so- oh I died

Percy: Wanna go to Toronto? Why drive just take the Earth Quake on natural disaster

Travis: The roof is just caving in on us it's fine

Michael: My arms are broken, my legs are broken, my lungs are broken, my knees are broken, I got decapitated when I was five

Connor: We're gonna die? No we're gonna beat the speedrun world record

Cecil: Hell to go down I there

Will: Mask to mask resuscitation

Travis: I may or may not have accidentally dropped a match in the building on purpose

Nico: Minecraft but I accidentally sets a school on fire

Percy: Minecraft but I die of hypothermia

Piper: Minecraft but I left my eyes at home

Jake: Minecraft but my legs are broken

Jason: Minecraft but I died

Lou Ellen: Minecraft but we're all gay

Will: If I die the game is homophobic

Cecil: Minecraft but I run my best friend over

Nico: I wanna hit a citizen with a baseball bat

Michael: Hey sir, you have Alzheimer’s. Would you like a side of bronchitis?

Silena: Why can't this be straight? Lee: Because you're not

Lou Ellen: mmmm i love my jesus fish Cecil: bro jesus fish Lou Ellen: ikr, jesus moment

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hollandsangel · 2 months

Note

HI MADDIE HI HI MY LOVE<3 ok firstly blog theme EATS? hello i need your level of talent and skill.

ok hear me out a lil, but steve harrington x reader, hurt/comfort after the part in season 1 (season 2? i cant remember 😭), but with the demodogs. just reader being all soft and comforting with steve who reciprocates and they just sorta tend to each other would be so cute (maybe hes just a lil aggravated about the entire situation and reader is his anchor almost)

mwah loveu love u <333 (soryr this is sorta bad but !!! been thinking abt it a lil latellyyy)

hey hot stuff!! pinterest actually gets all the credit for my theme. i love her. i also had no idea what scene you were talking about LOL so i kinda made one up!! timeframe is NOT canon at all but its angsty and filled with comfort i swear, enjoyyyyyy my sweet amber. not proof read bc we die like men

⇘ ⇘ ⇘

steve won’t stop fidgeting in the drivers seat, fiddling with the signal indicator and volume controls. you feel just about the same, and you’re sure the kids do too, the back seat dead silent, their shoulders touching and all of them refusing to move away from the other.

“you’re shaking,” you whisper, afraid to use too much volume in your voice, like the glass ceiling of the silence will shatter and cut you if you do. you reach out to smooth your hand down steve’s shoulder, a comforting motion you’ve performed countless times before. he flinches at the movement and you hand stops dead in the air.

“m sorry,” he mumbles, voice rough and throat scratchy.

you watch him draw in a deep breath, deeper than you think he’s breathed in three days.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart, i’m sorry,” he says it again, glancing over at you but only for a second, like it hurts to see you.

“it’s okay,” you’re still speaking hushed tones, turning back to find max and lucas sleeping against one another, dustin staring out the window mindlessly.

“we’re almost at nancy’s,” steve swallows, “eddie’s gonna meet us there.” his grip on the steering wheel is too tight and his jaw is clenched. he forces himself to swallow.

“steve…” he lets you touch him this time and you feel a tiny sense of triumph when he relaxes slightly, melts into the feel of your fingertips on the back of his neck. he’s so cold. goosebumps raise on his skin.

“i can’t stop seeing it,” is his response, “the corpse is still in the fucking freezer,” he nearly gasps when he says it, like the mental image itself takes his breath away.

“i know baby, me either,” steve finally looks at you and you regret letting the tears well up in your eyes because his face falls when he notices.

“hey–” he starts but you shake your head and press your fingertips from your other hand into your eyes.

“i’m okay, i promise,”

“but i–” you know what he’s gonna say, something self deprecating about how he wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough, or did a bad job keeping you safe.

“you protected them,” you remind him, breathing a little easier when his eyes flick up to the rearview mirror to look at the kids. safe and sound in the back of the beamer, the heat cranked a little too high but it’s so much nicer than the bone chilling temperatures of the upside down. “and you protected me,” you reach up to push his hair away from his eyes, staying mindful of the cut by his eyebrow.

“we’re okay?” he doesn’t mean for it to be a question but it is. he means to confirm for himself, but really he needs you to do it for him.

“we’re okay,” you nod, and then you say it again.

“we’re okay.”

#steven #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve req

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intoxicated-chan · 2 months

Text

𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ❛𝐓𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Summary ➳ Daryl has many regrets and he carries them everyday and everywhere but this is one that’s going to stick with him for many lifetimes.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Blue Jeans” by Lana Del Rey. So… What do you guys think? P.S, I did change the title, I didn’t think it fit.

Word Count ➳ 1k

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader/No use of (Y/n), typical TWD violence, blood, death, swearing, injuries, HEAVY ANGST, mentions of hunting animals, murder, no happy ending oops…

The last time Daryl remembered crying like he did when carrying your corpse was when he saw Merle as a Walker.

During the start of the outbreak, Daryl wanted to find you, he was willing to use all resources available for you. Merle had to stop him, reminding him that looking for you was a lost cause, but Merle praised you for your skills. You weren’t a good tracker but damn did you know how to put up a fight.

And so, every time Daryl got the chance to explore the abandoned city of Atlanta or any place, he would look for you even if it was just a sign. He refused to believe what anyone said about you and or mostly likely demise.

With an extra map that he stole, he would map out the possible courses that would direct them to you. Even if he was wrong in all of them, he was able to find one thing.

It was blue.

It was a crossbow arrow with blue fletching, ones he got for you. Each one of them was carved with both of your initials. It was a couple of weeks before the outbreak when Daryl decided to teach you how to hunt and he was surprised at how terrible you were. He took every opportunity to laugh at your horrible aim and how you scared every animal away.

“Yer gonna die if some shit happens!” Daryl snickered at you, grabbing your hands to lower your aim.

“I’m tryin’ dammit!”

“One more- Don’t start givin’ up on me.”

It was only when you started learning when the outbreak happened, that you were lost in the panic, unable to use any phones. And when you went back to the cabin Daryl shared with Merle, it was empty, cleaned out.

But you were determined to make it out and get back to him, even if you had to lose a couple of limbs. You didn’t have time to grow trust, it was do or die, and you didn’t want to die. You stuck around for the first group and stayed with the second—a big mistake.

Daryl kept the arrows close, nearly refusing to use them unless he was sure he was going to get them back. His pattern continued, map and search, search and map.

He reached another deserted city, he didn’t bother to look at names anymore. First, he scavenged for supplies, maybe food until he caught the color blue in the corner of his eye.

He saw another arrow. He confirmed it was yours by the carving, but then he saw another and then another and another…

Some were etched into the walls of the building, laid on the ground, and deep into the dead Walkers. He followed the trail, his crossbow high, he didn’t want to take any chances.

He could hear panting, he could see their shadows scurrying around the room. Hell, they were even laughing. He was caught off guard until one of them came at him from around the corner, he shot with ease, and the arrow lodged into the attacker’s thigh. He hurled it over in pain, clutching it.

“The hell’s the matter with you?!” The attacker shouted.

Daryl only rolled his eyes and shook his head, ready to turn a blind eye until he saw the assailant carrying a crossbow as well and-

Your arrows. Each caving on display.

Daryl dropped his, grabbing the man by his shirt. “Where the hell did ya get these?” He demanded to know. “How?!”

A woman suddenly gripped his arms, beginning to cry. “Please! Let us go!” She begged. “We’re jus’ tryin’ to survive! Look for our families!”

“Ya wanna live another day?” Daryl grabbed his pocket knife, bringing it to his throat. “Y’all gon tell me how ya got these.”

It was like some horrific joke.

“W-We jus’ wanted ‘er help! But she refused us!”

“And where is she?!”

“The cunt’s dead! Like the rest of ‘em!”

You were right where he said you’d be.

You were propped up against the wall. You took an arrow to your calf, arm, and your neck. The blood leaking out of your mouth was starting to dry. You must’ve bled out while they were taking your things, leaving you for dead.

And you were.

Daryl sobbed, his whole body shaking as he fell to the ground. He reached to touch your face, just barely warm. Your eyes no longer held any life in them. He sounded as if he was in pain, his chest turned as he whispered your name, practically begging for you to come back to him.

He cradled your corpse in his arms, something he wanted to do for some time but he was too chicken to even ask. He was too late.

He could no longer ask you to hunt with him, go on a midnight bike ride, take a smoke with him, or let him pour his heart out for you.

The bastards’ bodies were enough for him, even when he did finish the job on both. It wasn’t enough.

He collected your arrows first, took your body into his arms, and brought you to the rooftop of the highest building to lay your body. He remembered vividly how you loved the night sky, he didn’t understand it but that night, he did.

He took in every detail, how every start shined and glimmered. He only wished he could get your input.

But when the sun started to come up, he took your body back down and made a pyre to burn your body. But before he did, he placed a kiss on your lips, whispering words into your ear before he lit the match.

“I love you.”

And as long as he was alive, his love for you wasn’t going anywhere. He would walk this world with regret and guilt until his time was up.

Maybe in the next lifetime, he will have the courage to say those words. But it ain’t gonna be in this one.

Taglist ➳ @celtic-crossbow , @duffmckagansbandana , @gamingfeline , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss , @xmaeyonaiise , @suniloli , @ladylincoln , @of-storms-and-sadness , @annhells , @sexyxdylanxobrien , @yoowhatthefuck , @oikawarz , @mylifeinthetardisforever , @let-love-bleeds-red , @virginsexgod69 , @scudslut , @theesexystallion , @yondus-girl , @sleep-queen ,

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facewithoutheart · 4 months

Text

Hello, hi. I’ve spent… way too much time this week plotting backstory instead of writing so today I’m kicking off WIPs Day with a process post 🥰

From my darkest timeline fic, Blue Lace/Bad Wolf (neither of which will probably become the end title but whatever). So, no Watford truce, Simon cures the Humdrum but the Mage doesn’t die and, in the face of dwindling political power, uses Simon as an… incentive. Yeah, it’s dark.

Under the break for more.

Anyway! Coven backstory:

Most of the Coven’s actions (including Coven seat petitions) must be proposed through a committee, approved by a two-thirds majority of members, and signed into Record by the Mage. There are a few select actions which must be proposed by a group called the Round Table, but then only need to be approved by a simple majority of all Coven members before being signed into Record.

The Round Table is a group of 25 members, all Old Families. The composition of Round Table members has not changed since the creation of the Coven. With a unanimous vote, the Round Table can veto any Coven or Mage action before being signed into Record, giving them unparalleled power when in agreement.

Oh, yeah. We’re giving them bylaws. So sexy.

And, of course, this is gonna be a Mage-heavy piece so let’s dive into him for a second:

It’s important to know Davy’s petition for a seat on the Coven was almost blocked by the Round Table, except for one member (Wellbelove; he liked Davy’s stance on dark creatures). Even if they weren’t just the Old Families who represent everything he thinks is wrong with the WoM, this was definitely his villain origin story.

And a short Simon POV excerpt:

“I’m sorry.” The word breaks halfway off my tongue the second I realise it's a mistake.

The Mage doesn’t need to say what’s plain on his face. Pathetic.

“How much did you give away?”

Not enough.

Everything.

“Not all of it.” I think. I hope. “Just…”

“Most of it,” he scoffs. “Well. You’ve always been a disappointment. Why not in this?”

Tagging @captain-aralias, @bookish-bogwitch, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @cutestkilla (thanks for getting in the backstory trenches with me!), @palimpsessed, @aristocratic-otter, @artsyunderstudy, @shrekgogurt, @forabeatofadrum, @onepintobean, @thewholelemon (fuck yeah, bylaws!), @raenestee, @confused-bi-queer, @larkral, @run-for-chamo-miles, @iamamythologicalcreature, @prettygoododds, @ic3-que3n, @rimeswithpurple, @stitchyqueer & @orange-peony

#snowbaz #fanfic #blue lace #angst #headcanons #fuck the mage

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lostgirlfandom · 1 year

Text

It's a Tuesday

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x GN!Reader

Warnings: Theft, cussing

Words: 727

Summery: Just a regular day in the Gallagher Household

It was a normal day for you... As normal as one could get when you were basically a part of the Gallagher broad since you were friends with Lip since you were kids. You were both known as the Terror Twins when you were in elementary school from the amount of trouble you both got into together. Pouring glue in one of the bullies that picked on the Gallaghers, Gorilla gluing the teacher’s desk, hacking the Principal’s morning announcements... the list goes on.

So, it wasn’t a surprise when Lip came barreling into the living room from the stairs at the Gallagher’s house to find you playing on the Xbox with Carl.

“Hey... want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?” He asks as he leans over the back of the couch where were leaning back against as your stare was concentrated on the TV.

You snorted and without looking away from the screen answered, “Oh gods... we’re gonna die, aren’t we?” You said sarcastically.

“It’s a Tuesday... I know how to restrain myself.” He jokes back at you.

You let out a loud scoff and laughed. “You ABSOLUTELY do not!”

Finally, the game finishes the round and you turn your attention to Lip and pause as you notice something you didn’t before.

Your brow frowns in confusion as you open your mouth before pressing them together before sighing and asking. “Why are your hands purple?”

Lip smirks, “That’s a very good question.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the space between your eyes. “I don’t wanna know.”

Carl had surprisingly stayed quiet and listened to your conversation, looking between you both.

You give a sarcastic sigh and force yourself to stand up. “Alright, let’s go.”

Next thing you know, you were running from security at a science building that Lip got into. You were hiding in a random lab room and were taking deep breaths as you leaned against the wall next to the door with Lip next to you, a backpack over his shoulder.

After a moment of silence, you could hear the security in the hallway going through the rooms. Their radios going off every now and then.

“I have a solution.” Lip whispers to you.

You look at him and lock his with him and he as that look in his eye when he has a stupidly genius idea. “Okay?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“It involves fire.”

You sigh and lean your head back against the wall, shaking your head. “Absolutely not, Phillip.” You pause and then hiss out to him, “If we die, I’m going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault.”

He shrugs and purses his lips together. “That’s cool. I don’t mind having company while being a ghost.”

You make a disgruntled face at him and he chuckles.

The next thing you know, you found your way over to the window and look out. There was a covered walkway right under the walkway so you both rushed to open the window.

“This way is more efficient.” He laughs out as he looks at you.

You shook your head and for dramatic effect added, “This way is going to get us killed.”

You both jumped over to the metal covering the walk way and it makes a dull thud as you rush to then climb down to the ground. Both of you then rush to exit the campus.

Thankfully, you made it back to the house and you both crashed in Lip’s room. After the adrenaline came down, he started to work on the machine as you read a book. You were exhausted from the running.

Yawning, you turn the page. The sound of him tinkering with the machine stopped for a brief moment.

“Yeah, being pretty must be tiring.” He spoke up without looking at you.

You paused and looked at him with raised eyebrows. Tilting your head, you smirk. “Then you must be exhausted.”

He freezes and looks up you to lock eyes with you. You notice his cheeks had tints of red on them. You continue to smirk as you turn back to your book.

The next thing you know, the sound of tools hitting the floor sounds out and Lip jumping on top of you makes you laugh as he attacks you.

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher one shot #lip gallagher x gn!reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #shameless imagine #shameless one shot #fandom imagine #fandom one shot

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mirrorsmoonlight · 5 months

Text

☆ ~ you don’t have to fight anymore

pairing: platonic!mizzen x district 5!reader summary: while you’re stuck in the cage you offer to be someones pillow for the night—or which mizzen ditches coral to get some well earned rest, maybe even a friend. but friendships don’t make it that far when it’s all for themselves. warnings: bonding (at first), canon violence, death, some language, uploaded via iphone, this was in my drafts for too long so i uploaded it :0

when he first approached you you’d felt fear, it wasn’t a secret that his district partner was one of the scariest tributes in here and your position didn’t really make you trust others that easily. but when you looked over you could sense he wasn’t planning to harm you, him looking more scared than you as he approached.

you were quiet as he stood infront of you, eyes directed away from his form to hopefully encourage him to spill the reason he came. but only after a few moments you couldn’t stand the awkward silence any longer, “with coral’s tight grip on you i never thought you’d ever make any connections with anyone but her.”

mizzen’s eyes embarrassedly shot down to his feet, your tone letting him know this was already a bad idea, “well i- just wanted to talk to you, it kinda gets boring talking to one person all the time.” at that your eyes softened a little, reminded that the other tributes you’d soon be against we’re around your age - mizzen looking like he were one of the youngest - and were all coping in different ways.

“right, sorry,” you shot him an embarrassed smile before patting the open spot next to you, “here, to make up for the bad first impression i made.”

he shot a sideways smile in thanks, making himself at home on the uncomfortable rock you perched yourself on before nervously turning towards you. “what’s your name,” there was genuine curiosity on his face, making you both confused and appreciative in a way.

“(name),” you smiled for a short moment but then frowned as the awful thoughts of what’s to come poisoned your mind and shot down your elevated attitude from moments before, “what does it matter anyways? in a few days we’ll be fighting to the death, not caring about our opponents name or the life they had before.”

“oh,” hurt blossomed across his face, sitting in silence for a bit as he pondered what to say back, “it matters because our names are the only thing we can keep, the rest of our life stripped away from us as soon as our names were called.”

“i know we’re all gonna die - that much is clear - but i just hoped i could know you all before that,” guilt bubbled back at the back of your throat again, his face scrunched up in a sad frown when you looked back at him.

“shit, m’sorry kid, things have just been overwhelming,” you finally turned towards him, averting your whole attention to the conversation, gesturing towards him as you muttered your next words, “and that doesn’t excuse my behavior, since you’re obviously handling it somewhat better than i am.”

you paused for a moment, “it just that, knowing eachother will only make it harder when one of us have to die,” a tinge of sadness in your gaze as you looked at the young boy.

“that’s true,” mizzen looks down at his hands, a tear slipping down his cheek as he tries his best to get it together, upset at how emotional getting reaped made him and not wanting others to find him as an easy target because of his open vulnerability, “ it’s just, maybe we don’t have to be enemies.”

his innocence made your heart hurt, “maybe not out here but in the arena you have much better chances with coral, so sometime along the way we’ll be on opposite sides.” not sparing any time after to change the subject.

“well I’m actually kinda glad you came,” you offered a smile, “it’s nice knowing that they’re people who care enough to ask those types of things regardless of the circumstances we’re in.” mizzen smiled in return - the drying tear tracks staining his cheeks - although halfway through it, it broke into a yawn.

“you should go rest with coral,” you gestured where she was, not hiding the fact she was watching our interaction, “don’t want her coming for my head before we even get into the arena by keeping you here.”

mizzen looked back at her before shrugging, “i don’t think i mean that much to her, she’s probably just watching to make sure i don’t betray her in the arena.”

that caused the words to die in your throat, not knowing how to respond, having to have him to continue the conversation, “could i just stay here for the night? I don’t want to go back.”

you nodded in response as a sense of protectiveness washing over you, “you can rest on my shoulder too if you want, i know that there isn’t much in here that’s comfier.” mizzen looked at you for a second, contemplating your offer before gently resting his head on you, muttering a little ‘thank you’ before he closed his eyes.

it didn’t have to end like this, it shouldn’t have ended like this. the guilt bubbling in his throat mixing with the bile that he had to force himself to hold back as he watched your body fall from the beam before landing with the harsh smack on the arena floor.

what’s worse was that he was apart of this.

although he knew coral was planning to kill you, did he have to be apart of the joint effort? couldn’t he have distracted her a bit or maybe messed up so you could get away? couldn’t have coral asked tanner or treech to do it with her instead?

his momentary shock was dissipated as coral called for him and the others, readying up to hunt lucy gray after catching her emptying the water bottles they had gathered prior to killing you.

he carefully climbed down from the beam before crouching at your body - making sure the others weren’t watching before continuing - to mutter the last message to you that’ll come from his lips, “rest, it’s your turn to dream now.” he paused for a moment before his shaking fingers gently shut your eyes closed.

before making his way to the others, he shot a sorrowful look over his shoulder one last time, knowing that soon he’ll either join you or he’ll have to live with the guilt of what he’d done.

a/n: uploading a treech fic soon! and completely disregard the fact that this wasn’t posted on saturday :0

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oneweirdbookaddict · 1 month

Text

“Better terrible truths than kind lies.”

-Six if Crows, Leigh Bardugo,

Promises are made and broken. How could Time watch his friend die when it’s possible the other is safe? Which choice is the right one?

4456 words.

Warnings for torture, kidnapping, vomiting. Let me know if there should be anything else!

~~~~

He thought things couldn’t get much worse when he was kidnapped with Sky and Four.

After days of starvation, he was losing hope of being able to break out of here. And they had, if his internal clock is correct (and it always is), one more day until their captors started torturing them.

His eyes find the smith, who’s shackled to the wall of his cell, bars separating them.

Sky lays unconscious on the floor of Four’s cell, the smith finally tearing his gaze from the skyloftian as the teenager clears his throat.

Storm cloud grey eyes find his, expression deadly serious. “Time. If it comes down to it, save Sky. Not me.”

He pauses, unsure of what to say to that.

“Four, don’t-”

“Time, promise me.”

“Four-”

“No, Time, I don’t want to hear the ‘it won’t come to that,’ or ‘we’re all gonna get out of here,’ you don’t know that. Promise me- that if it comes down to it, if you have to choose, you will save Sky and let me die if you have to.”

“Four I can’t-”

“Do it!” Four snaps, eyes flashing blue. “Sky has people at home who need him- friends who need him, family, his Zelda! I’ve got no one, ok?! It doesn’t matter to anyone but you guys if I make it! Sky has people who need him! He has a future! Promise me, Time!”

The desperation and raw fear in the kid’s voice makes him pause. Slowly nod, more out of surprise than actual agreement.

“Say it.” Four demands.

“I promise.” He says weakly.

“Promise what?” Four insists, arms crossed.

“If- if it comes down to… a choice… I’ll save Sky.”

Four relaxes, slowly releasing a breath and relaxing as much as he’s able with the chains around his wrists and ankles. “Thank you.”

He feels sick. How could he do that? Promise that?

But… it won’t come to it, he reminds himself.

All of them are getting out of here. Alive.

~~~~

He’s jolted out of the restless doze he’d managed to fall into by the sound of his cell opening.

Blearily, he raises his head to the bars. One of the weird soldiers in red is staring at him, laughing cruelly when he startles and yelps in shock.

“Wakey, wakey, little one! I had the honor of picking the first victim of our torture. Unless… you want to save us the trouble and tell us where the hero is?”

He slowly licks his dry, cracked lip, spitting in the face of his captor.

Instead of being angry, the man seems excited. “That’s what I thought. Come on, little boy.”

His chains are replaced with heavy shackles that make it very hard to move- especially with the lack of food and water.

He casts a cautious glance into Time’s cell- the leader is watching wearily, making the briefest of eye contact with him.

“Save. Sky.” He mouths, and Time looks away.

Then he raises his chin and allows the soldier to lead him out of the cell, down a hall, up a staircase that nearly makes him pass out, down another long hallway, and back down some steps and through a large room and into a little hidden door and through- he loses track, which he’s sure is the point of the ridiculous route.

But eventually the soldier stops him, and he’s forced to lay on a table as he’s chained up again.

“It has been five days, boy.” Another soldier says. This one is bigger, taller, holding a much larger sword. “Your friends are not coming for you. You will save yourself much pain if you simply tell us where the hero Link is.”

He stays silent, looking into the eyes of the mask.

“We can be merciful. We can release you, feed you, tend to your friend’s wounds. Where did your friend, the hero, run to?”

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.” He snaps, cursing himself for replying. But hunger and dehydration make him woozy, and he can’t trust himself.

He’s glad he’s not sure where the others went.

A soft sigh comes from the leader-seeming one.

The smaller one pulls out a wicked looking knife, long and jagged and clearly having one intended purpose.

“We’ll do this the hard way, then.”

He raises his chin as much as he can. “Bring it. Come on.”

The first slice is to his leg. Another quickly joins it.

And another.

On his calf, one above another. Four long cuts, for the four colors on his tunic, the leader says.

A break, another question, another chance for him to talk.

They move up to his arm.

Four long, thin slices that bleed heavily and quickly are dripping all over the floor.

Then the other arm. Then the other leg.

He takes it without noise, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the leader.

I’ve had worse, he hopes it comes through. There is no part of me that isn’t broken and healed, and I am stronger because of it.

“Break bones.” The leader says in a bored tone of voice.

He grits his teeth as the soldier nears him, bearing his teeth. “Let’s go, then. Break ‘em. Which one you gonna start with? I recommend the ribs. Painful and damaging.”

Sure enough, the first blow is to his side. Knocks the breath right out of him, the fight in him faltering.

Then his wrist.

He has to bite back a yell, tears streaming down his cheeks now. But he forces himself to talk- he will not break. Never.

“That all you’ve got? Clean breaks. Those will heal up fine in a month or so.”

Mistake. The leader pauses, then hands something to the soldier.

A mallet.

“Smash his hand. Shatter the bones beyond repair. Maybe he’ll be willing to talk then.”

All the fight in him evaporates.

They can take a lot from him.

His sword, his armor, his tunic, hell, his dignity. But his thing, the thing he defines himself with is his craft.

Shattering his hand will destroy that.

The leader enjoys the fear he can’t hide in his eyes.

His breaths quicken, tears pricking in his eyes again, entire body trembling against the chains.

“Last chance, little boy. You’re a craftsman, I can tell. Surely the hero isn’t losing your work over?”

He swallows defiantly, making himself look at the leader once more.

Another sigh.

A wave of the hand.

The hammer swings down, down-

“I DON'T KNOW WHERE THEY WENT!” He screams, squeezing his eyes shut.

A loud slam, the air of the hammer blowing an ironically gentle breeze on his hand.

His teeth are chattering.

The corner of the table collapses, leaving a jagged edge on the solid wood.

“I don’t know where they went. We- we were planning to get to the stable nearby. That’s all I know.” He whispers, closing his eyes again.

He’s shuddering violently, uncontrollably, even more when a gentle hand brushes his hair out of his face.

“What’s your name, little boy?”

“Four.” He whispers shakily, forcing himself to swallow.

“Well, Four. I think you’re lying to me.”

His eyes fly open.

“You kidnapped me! I’ve been here for days! How am I supposed to know where they went?! I-”

“He annoys me. Find an interesting organ and remove it.”

A knife plunges into his side, and all the air in his body is sucked right out.

In. Out. In. Out.

Slowly, the knife cuts his flesh open. Open. Doing goddess knows what to his body.

It hurts.

He’s been stabbed before, by weapons much worse than knives, but he’s never had surgery while wide awake.

He tenses as much as his body allows him to, sweat mixing with the tears running down his face, teeth biting his lip bloody.

He knows they just want to hurt him to get Time to talk. They know he doesn’t know where Wild and the others went. They know that Time does.

And one look at Time tells them the old man isn’t going to break through good old fashioned torture. But… maybe they can negotiate his torture’s end through Time’s information…

All they need him to do is scream.

Sound pained.

Act the part.

I will not, he tells himself, blood dripping down his chin from how hard he’s biting his lip to keep himself from screaming.

I won’t, he reminds himself as he sobs, thrashing as much as he’s able to- which isn’t much.

But in the end, he’s not Twi, with his strength, or Wars with his unshakable confidence, or Wind with his courage.

He’s a teenager who grew up privileged in a comfortable house where he knew little pain, went on a relatively easy adventure compared to the heros around him.

He never died or faced a god.

He thought he knew pain. How wrong he was.

The knife brushes his rib cage, and he screams.

~~~~

A scream cuts through the silence of his cell, echoing down the long, empty halls.

He runs for the cell bars, looking down the hall, calling Four’s name, but sees nothing and gets no reply.

Just another agonized scream.

Then- “Time!”

He falters. “Wars?!”

“Time! I’m here, where’s Four, where’d they take him? Where’s Sky? We’re gonna get you out.”

“Go get Four, go get Four, I don’t know where he’s at-”

Wars nods quickly, already moving down the hall. “I’ll be back! I’ll be right back!” The captain shouts, and then he’s gone.

He waits one long minute. Two. Three. Fifteen.

Wars comes rushing back, Legend and Twi behind him, a multicolored bundle in the rancher’s arms.

Blood on both Legend and Wars, whether it’s Four’s, their own, or… someone else’s, he doesn’t know.

“Bleeding out as we speak, we have to go!” Legend snaps before he can even ask, slipping a hand through the bars into his cell.

“Take this bracelet, touch the wall, activate it, inactivate it. I’ll explain later.”

He’s seen quite a few things, during his adventures. Been transformed and transformed again, into thing after thing after thing. A deku scrub, a zora, so on and so on. But he’s never been a painting until now.

He shudders once he’s back to normal, shakily handing the vet his bracelet back.

“You get used to it. Where’s Sky?” The vet say, sliding it back over his hand.

He shakes his head weakly. “They took him. He was hurt. Badly. Haven’t seen him since.”

The three share a long look.

“We have to go.” Twi says quietly, looking down at a beat up and very bloody Four. “He’s not gonna last much longer.”

Wars peers at the smith, checking his breathing and his pulse. “Five minutes to look. Split up, meet back here or get left behind. That’s all we’ve got. Twi, keep that wound covered.”

A tense nod, and they all split.

He searches room after room after room, hollering Sky’s name, looking, looking, well past five minutes.

But he finds nothing, hits a dead end, and has to go back.

And they leave.

Four’s barely breathing, deathly pale, and his pulse is so, so weak. They don’t have a choice.

They leave Sky somewhere in the building, getting Four back to the inn others had found in their absence.

Wars and Twi talk to him, pressing him for answers, but all he can hear is the promise he’d made to the smith ringing in his ears over and over again.

~~~~

Their arrival at the inn is a chaotic mess.

Everyone scrambles to find potions, medical supplies, anything that might help Four.

Time sits on a seat at the table and stares out the window, refusing to allow anyone to look over him.

Wars and Hyrule get Four to a bed, working over him for hours and hours.

Four stops breathing once.

They get him going again, but the poor kid is still fighting for his life well into the night, well into the morning, all the next day, until Wars emerges from the room with Hyrule at his side.

“He’s stable.” The captain says quietly, then promptly falls into a chair and passes out.

Rulie follows suit mere minutes later.

Both men had been up all night. They let them rest, moving them carefully to their own room, and he takes to watching the smith.

“Let me watch him for a bit, Vet. Get some sleep.” Twi offers once, but he waves the rancher away.

Nothing happens for days. Four refuses to wake up. Sometimes they can get him to take some broth, coax a bit of water into him, but the teen remains unmoving on the bed.

The morning starts as usual- he wakes up, checks on Four. Wind reports that he’d been awake for a couple seconds, weak and confused, then fell back asleep.

That’s new. Over the past couple days, Four’s gained his color back, gotten skeletally thin, and the jagged cuts all over his body had slowly started healing up.

His heart rate picked up, breathing became less labored, even moving every so often. Rulie and Wars were optimistic he’d wake up soon.

And later that day he does, managing to scare the absolute crap out of all of them when he does.

Wild makes dinner, gathers them into a larger meeting room, wakes the two snoring heroes, and serves them all dinner.

It takes five minutes for them to start discussing plans to go back, find Sky, who should go, who needs to stay, when they're going-

Four stumbles into the room, pale and shaking. Barefoot, stripped to his underclothes, panicked and on the verge of hyperventilation.

“Where’s Sky?” The kid demands, swaying dangerously. Eyes scanning over the silent room, face paling when he realizes a face is missing.

Wars leaps up to grab the teenager, steadying him quickly. “Smithy, hey, kiddo, let’s take a seat? Just breathe, Buddy, just breathe…”

“Sky.” Four pleads weakly, struggling with all the minimal strength Four’s tiny body possesses.

“Want to try something to eat? You’ve been out a few days, let’s try-”

“Where’s Sky?!” Four demands, dragging his heels on the floor. Wars falters, giving him a slow look.

“Four, buddy… take a seat, kiddo, we’ll explain everything.”

“Tell me.” Four begs, eyes welling up.

“He’s still there.” Twi says softly, gently, eyes full of apology. “We had a plan… it went wrong. Almost immediately. We went to go find him, but we didn’t… we had to go, you were bleeding out- Four- Four, no!” Twi shouts as Four lunges over the table at Time.

“You lied to me!” Four screams, slapping the man across the face. “You promised me! You promised me! You’re a liar!” Four howls as he and Twi wrestle the kid off of the old man as gently as possible.

“You son of a bitch!” Four screams from the ground, tears running down his face and into his hair. “I hate you! I hate you!”

Time’s expression shatters, all the emotions he’d been hiding since their return on full display as the old man breaks down into tears.

“I’m sorry, Four, I-”

Four goes ballistic, breaking out of Twi’s grasp and raking his fingernails over Time’s face hard enough to draw blood the second he’s close enough.

“Sorry isn’t going to help you when I kick the shit out of you!” Four screeches, eyes flashing.

Twi leaps to try to intercept the teen, and chaos erupts. Four’s screaming, Twi’s yelling, Wild’s just staring in shock, Hyrule’s frantically rummaging through his bag and calling to someone, he’s running to try to help Twi, shouting over his shoulder, and Wind’s just burst into the room with a yelp of surprise, likely trying to find out what’s going on.

“Suck my ass you motherfu-”

Hyrule sticks a needle into Four’s arm when Twi wrestles the kid back to the ground, the smithy cutting off his cursing to howl in pain.

“You… you’re a liar…” Four pants, chest heaving, eyes fluttering as the kid clings to consciousness. “You ruined… everything…”

“Four-” Time pleads, but Four’s eyes flutter closed.

“Hate you.” The kid breathes out, hand tightly grasping Twi. “You… lied.”

And the kid’s out.

~~~~

They all stare in shock, Twi openly gaping at the smith underneath him.

Slowly moves his arms, sitting back so he’s not holding Four down anymore.

There’s blood on his hands. Despite his efforts, he’d ripped Four’s wounds right open again.

Wars slowly moves to tend to the scratches down Time’s face as Hyrule slowly starts on Four.

“Look up, did he get your eye?” Wars says quietly, and they all watch.

Time lifts his gaze to the ceiling, revealing the damage done.

Hyrule offers a towel, and the old man presses it to his bloody face. The scrapes aren’t bad, shallow and barely spotting blood, but long lines go down his cheek, to his jaw.

Very narrowly missing his eye.

The rancher carefully gets Four off the ground, the kid still out cold in the rancher’s arms.

“What’d he mean you lied to him?”

“Twi.” Wars says softly, disapprovingly.

Time’s eyes hold a deep sadness, a hint of guilt as he looks at Four. “He made me promise to save Sky instead of him if I needed to choose.”

Silence.

“Time…” Twi says softly, hand raking through his hair.

“How could you break such a promise?” Wild says in horror, staring at their leader.

“What, is he supposed to just let Four die?” Legend says incredulously.

“He promised he would.”

“If it came down to it, would you have the guts to watch your friend die?!” Wind asks, gesturing wildly with his arms.

“If I’d made a promise! I don’t break my promises!”

Time flinches.

“Wild, so much was going on, we didn’t know where Sky was, our best assumption was that he wasn’t being tortured like Four was and we’re hoping he’s in better condition than Four, the smith was bleeding out in my arms, we did what was best-”

“You promised him! Hylia above- if I’d begged someone to make me a promise like that to find out they didn’t keep it-”

Wild’s eyes find Twi’s, words faltering. Swallows thickly, turning away. “I’d rather be dead. Then… that.”

Twi gently shifts the teenager in his arms.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“I’m going to… get a bed for him.” The rancher finally says awkwardly, moving to leave. Hyrule stops him quickly.

“Wait! He’s uh… going to be nauseous when he wakes up. Should only be a few hours. But he’s… yeah.”

Twi nods, taking a deep breath and leaving the room.

They all silently watch him go.

~~~~

Hyrule said it’d be a few hours.

He’s not sure if he forgot to take Four’s size into account, or if Four’s just… sleeping, but the kid doesn’t as much as move for five hours.

The only sign he’s alive is the very slow rise and fall of his chest.

After those long hours, though, he slowly starts shifting, turning, hums groggily when he gently shakes the kid, and he lets him be for a little longer.

Not long after that, the teenager slowly opens his eyes and gives a groggy mumble.

Tries to sit up, flopping right back onto the bed.

“Easy.” He says softly, putting a hand on Four’s shoulder. “We… really knocked you out. You must still be groggy and…”

Four’s expression turns… weird, lips pressing together and swallowing thickly.

“Want some water? It’s been nothing but rain for days-”

He leaps back as Four shoves his hand away, rolls over just enough to get his head over the side of the bed, and vomits all over the floor.

“Eauughaahhehh! Wars! Wars!” He shouts down the hall, taking a cloth from the little table next to the bed and dunking it in the water meant for the poor kid, wringing it out and wiping the smith’s face down.

The teenager is still totally out of it, mumbling disorientedly and weakly trying to shove him away.

Wars bursts into the room just as Four manages to weakly grab his hand, mumbling forcefully and weakly shoving it away.

“Sorry, kiddo, I know, I gotta get you cleaned up, though.” He says softly, soothingly, Four’s gray eyes heartbreakingly confused.

“What is it?” Wars says, helping him calm the poor kid.

“He freaking- threw up everywhere, I’ve got him, any chance you could…”

“Yeah, I got it, he alright?” Wars asks, watching him gently try to get his hand back.

“I don’t know, man, I think he’s just scared.”

Wars leaves, likely to go get something to clean the room up, and he carefully gets his hand back from Four’s ironclad grasp.

“Hyrule said you might be a little nauseous… you feeling any better after that?” He asks gently, getting a dazed blink in response.

He gently moves to the side of the bed, fingers brushing through Four’s soft hair.

The kid seems to be calmer now, no longer struggling.

Just dazed and weak and confused.

“Hey there.” He says gently, and Four’s eyes find him again. “You want anything? Food, water… bathroom?”

Four slowly shakes his head, eyes closing as he slowly relaxes.

“Still tired?” He asks softly as Wars returns, starts mopping up the floor.

A small shrug.

A tear slips down the kid’s face.

His heart sinks.

“Four, buddy…” he says softly, hand finding the smith’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna find him.”

Another slow tear, then another.

“He’s gonna be fine.” He repeats as gently as he can, trying to get Four to look at him and failing.

“They’ll kill him.” Four whispers, voice breaking.

And the smith dissolves into sobs, not listening to a word he says.

“They’re gonna kill him they’ll kill him they have no reason to keep him alive now he’s gonna be dead-”

“Shh… no no, buddy, he’s gonna be just fine-”

Four tucks his knees to his chest, forehead touching his knees, and just sobs.

Flinches away from his touch, curling into a ball and flopping down on the bed.

Wars looks sadly at the kid, at a loss for words like him.

And all they can get out of the kid is sharp, broken sniffles as the kid hides himself away from the world with the blankets on the bed.

The captain sits on the edge of the bed, hand slowly finding the lump of blankets that’s currently their smithy.

Four slowly allows him to lay next to him, leaning his protective barrier to curl carefully into Wars’ side.

They they start coaxing answers out of their friend.

“Are you in a lot of pain, kiddo?” Wars asks softly, and Four shrugs awkwardly.

“Chest.” Four manages, blinking at the ceiling.

“Yeah… you busted your ribs, probably reaggravated them hurdling a table to kick the shit out of Time.” Wars smiles, which gets a sheepish twitch of the lips out of the smithy.

“Let’s see… your wrist was broken, though Hyrule’s sure he got that fixed up ok. The cuts all over… we weren’t able to magically heal those, we just tried to heal the worst of it. So the stab on your side was a priority, then your wrist, then your ribs…”

“Did you crack his sternum giving him CPR?” He asks without thinking, then both of their gazes snap to Four.

Four blinks. Eyes flicking from Wars to him then back to Wars.

“Bruised it, most likely.” Wars offers quietly.

Four doesn’t react.

“Think you could get your shirt off, bud?”

Four shakes his head. They leave it be.

Silence falls over them, lingering for a long couple of minutes.

“Do you know…” Wars starts finally, trailing off when he glances down to the smithy. He’s dozed off again, silently, eyes closed and breathing even.

Hand holding his, calloused skin pressing into his.

Wars sighs slowly, gently tucking a blanket over the kid and carefully sitting up.

“Sleep well, kiddo,” The captain whispers as he carefully leaves the bed.

~~~~

He wakes up slowly, groggily, stomach churning.

Slowly turns to lay on his back, and has to take a long moment to fight the urge to throw up anything in his stomach.

Once he’s sure he’s not going to vomit, he swallows carefully and grimaces at the taste in his mouth.

Maybe he had thrown up.

Upon opening his eyes, he can see Wars next to him, passed out in a chair, snoring softly, and- Time.

Sitting next to the captain, watching him intently.

He pulls his face into a scowl.

Time looks away, guilt flitting over his face.

“Four-”

He ignores the old man, slowly pushing himself to sit up. Has to pause and take a few deep breaths in order to not vomit, sitting back once he’s all the way up.

“You alright?” Time asks softly when he slowly relaxes.

“Don’t talk to me.” He mutters, the words not nearly as strong as he’d like.

Time has the audacity to flinch.

Look away for a minute, saying his name softly-

He snaps, sitting rigid again and shooting a harsh glare at the old man. “Don’t even,” he growls. “You lied to me. You promised me- you promised. And you still left him behind. He’s dead because of you.”

Time looks like he’d been slapped, but he stands and storms out of the room.

Staggers down the hall, hands clutching the wall, vision swaying and blurring and the floor sways under his feet…

Stupid blood loss. He’s dizzy and woozy and it won’t go away until he rests… but how can he when Sky…

Over the buzzing in his ears, he can hear familiar voices, soft conversation.

He staggers to follow them, down the hall, pausing at a door, listening intently, turning the handle and stumbling inside.

“Four!” Someone says, soft hands steadying him immediately.

“Hey, bud, how you feeling?” Another voice asks, and another asks if he wants anything to eat, water, a blanket, is he cold? He’s shivering, people are touching his back and his shoulders and someone’s hand touches the back of his head.

His arms reach out, finding as many of his friends as he’s able to, sinking into warm, soft arms.

“Sky.” He mumbles, eyes growing heavier and heavier.

“Shh… we’re gonna get him back, kiddo, you just rest. You’ve been brave enough already, we’ve got this one.” Someone whispers, and he thinks he manages a groggy nod.

Hands brush through his hair. His headband had been removed, leaving his hair free and in his face.

“We’re gonna get him back, bud. You just rest.” The voice says again, and he nods again. Gives a slow breath out, letting his eyes fall shut. That, he can do.

~~~~

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months

Text

delicious

rating: T (for cursing and drug use)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 2160

summary: in order to make a fundraising event bearable, you and Dieter take edibles. When the event runs long, your only chance to make it out alive is to find something to eat.

warnings: drug use (it’s just edibles c’mon you narc), eating, the munchies, messy kissing, dieter bravo being a giant goofball and i hate him, this fic is so self-indulgent i'm embarrassed FOR you, FLUFF

a/n: this one kicked my butt, idk why. But @ravensmadreads says its good so here you go. For my 100 followers event (this is the last one! wow!): @sp00kymulderr asked: Taylor!! Congrats on 100, you’re my favourite blog honestly I check your posts every day just to read your tags lmao. For the celebration can I request some of our sweet boy Dieter with the prompt “We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.” it’s absolutely perfect

🤍Masterlist

After thirty minutes, your eyes are starting to cross. Your high-ribbed dress pinches the soft skin under your tits and the boob tape is starting to chafe your nipples. The ruby red heels have officially given you blisters but the worst – the absolute worst of it – you’re fucking starving.

And the Layaway Barbie at the podium marches on, her big eyes wet and her mouth begging, as she proves to a roomful of donors why they should spend another million in . . . tree-frog rehabilitation. Dieter had been drawn to the little green guys with red eyes on the front of the invitation and as the guest of honor for his “philanthropic” work when he was “dating” a Doctor Without (personal) Borders six years ago, how could he not go?

Let’s take an edible before we go, he said.

Whatever the vibe, it’ll be better if we’re on edibles, honey.

That is the last time you let him convince you of anything while he’s not wearing pants and his hand is down yours.

Your stomach grumbles and you fight back a whine. You make a noise like that and someone will definitely know you’re on drugs. The portly man next you has been staring at you with poorly hidden disgust all night as it is. But for now, his eyes focus in on Layaway Barbie, his loose jowls around his permanently down-turned mouth reminding you of a cartoon character. But which one?

Your eyes narrow at him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and it comes to you.

“Droopy!” you yelp and immediately clap your hand over your mouth. Your table mates eye you as if you are some society dredge they did not wish to involve themselves with.

You turn as best you can in your seat, ready to either be scolded by Dieter or have him laugh with you, but he does neither.

In fact, cross-armed, low in his seat, he lets out a low snore.

It’ll be fun, he said.

“Dieter!” You hiss. Nothing. His face is relaxed, lips parting as he falls deeper asleep. Irate you didn’t think of it first, you smack him across the knee. “Dieter!”

He jerks, eyelids cracking open briefly, and suddenly he drops his chin again.

“Thank you for your blessing and influence, oh Lord. Am— oh, hey, baby, what’s up?”

“Don’t ‘hey, baby, what’s up’ me. You were asleep and you just faked praying.”

“Better than faking other things,” he yawns loudly, blinks a bit, and realizes the “inspiring” speech (and presentation) is still going on. “Oh, fuck, we’re gonna die here.”

“Can you please keep it down?” The woman to Dieter’s right snaps. “You are making a mockery of a serious and pressing issue facing our society.”

Dieter blinks at her, his arms still across his chest. You can hear the bitch climb up his throat before he even opens his mouth.

“Well, you’re making a mockery of that dress and you don’t see me complaining–,”

You snag him by the hand and pull him away from the table before the woman has the good sense to throw her drink into his face.

He stumbles behind you as you push on the metal bar, the latch clicking, and you both tumble out into the empty hotel hallway. When the event started, everyone had been herded in from the other doors, where the lobby was. This looks like the kind of hallway drunk co-eds wander down while trying to find the bathroom after prom.

Which – ironically –

His big paw clutches your waist as he falls, or rather, stumbles into a tacky maroon and gold wall. In the fumbling under his legs as they overtake you, and keeping the rim of your heels from biting into your already puckered flesh, he manages to pin you beneath him. The instant the smell of his cologne washes over you, the instinct to claw his stupid eyes out evaporates. You sigh, both of his hands cupping your neck.

“Mhmm, there she is,” he murmurs, sing-song, kissing your nose. “Little hellcat turns baby kitten when she gets what she needs.”

“You are the biggest idiot I know,” you purr into his ear as his hands slide through the layers of your skirt to your ass.

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.” The cry you let out when he pinches your ass cheek beneath your dress is all the answer he needs.

Hands full of your thighs, he rubs you up the wall but there’s too many layers, too much gossamer to get him where you need him. His breath comes in short pants as he presses sloppy, wet kisses to your shoulder, your clavicle, your cheek.

There it comes again. Hunger. Driven on by –

You bite him.

“Ow!”

He pulls back and your mouth drops open in horror – you didn’t mean to bite him that hard and –

Your stomach lets out the most petulant growl.

Hand on his neck like it’s bleeding, Dieter follows your gaze to your stomach as if it had called his name.

And then you both break out into side-splitting laughter.

He eases you down, giggling, his nose pressed to your temple. Were you at home, the sex would have probably continued, but the atmosphere would be different – playful, teasing – he once did a Kermit the Frog impression while balls-deep inside of you and you laughed so hard you instantly came all over him.

“Baby,” he sighs through his teeth and kisses your hairline. “I know. I’m so fucking hungry.” He snaps his teeth by your ear and you push him back by his chest. Two goddam years of dating this moron and he still makes you blush like you’re fifteen and necking with a band geek.

His fingers wrap around your wrist to hold your hand above his heart, kissing your knuckles. He sucks your thumb once before you yelp, and he pushes your fist into his hair as you try to squirm away. He smirks into your neck.

“Dieter!”

“I’m hungry!”

“You’re the one who suggested we take edibles before coming to this thing.”

“Mhmm, let’s go home and do more drugs.”

“But you owe me dinner. Five Guys?”

“Baby, I have to eat something first to have enough stamina for that.”

“Oh my god, you –,”

He bites you on your earlobe again, grinning as he comes behind you to nudge you down the hall. “I know what you meant. I’m down for burgers, but I want, like, five.”

“Me too. Carry me? My feet hurt.”

“Of course, mah kwehn,” he nods as he scoops you up across his broad shoulders, momentarily taking on the affectation of Jon Snow and his loyalty to the dragon queen.

You’re working to kick your heels off as he marches the two of you down the hallway and you’ve nearly gotten your second heel off (the first in your lap) when he suddenly stops.

“Oi, Thomas, we’re not at the train station yet,” you grumble as you reach for your heel, awkwardly tucked under you and his arm. “Keep it going. Choo choo, you know?”

He still isn’t moving. You frown up at him, another transportation joke at the ready, but his wide-eyed stare gives you pause.

“What are you looking at?” You turn in his arms, hunger now officially twisting your stomach painfully. “Why’d you–,”

Your mouth falls open.

Beyond two double doors at the end of the hall sits a silver cart, loaded with tiny chocolate desserts.

You swallow the spit flooding your mouth. This time, his stomach grumbles as if to add to the argument.

“Dieter, put me down.” He all but drops you.

“Dieter, we can’t.”

“Why?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re only saying that because we’re both high as fuck right now and I’d eat bathroom soap if I could.”

That seems to rattle him out of his starvation-induced stupor. He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Please, when have I ever not eaten something I wasn’t supposed to?”

You blink up at him, now several inches shorter without your heels. “What? None of that made sense.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going for it.”

He strides past a very wide hallway branching back towards the lobby of the hotel, no doubt where several waiters intended to roll dessert out to the waiting reception. They’d be back at any second, but either due to being higher than a kite, his own innate lack of shame, or a combination of the two, Dieter is across the hallway in seconds and he snatches up two of the little chocolate spheres and shoves them both into his mouth at the same time.

“Holy shit, they’re cream puffs.”

Your hunger nearly doubles you over. “C-cream puffs? Those are m-my–,”

“Your favorite. I know. Mhmm, fucking get over here.”

Trembling from a lack of food and nerves, you slink over to him, hand out-stretched. He’s already had four more by this point and he’s stacking more onto a single plate as your fingers squish around one right in front of you. You pinch and the gooey white cream eases out the side. You whimper.

Dieter pauses, the tips of his fingers stained with dark chocolate and a dollop of cream on his cheek.

“That’s the sound you make when I eat you out.”

Rather than answer your boyfriend, you pop the cream puff into your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as the pastry melts on your tongue.

“Oh fuuuck.”

Dieter watches with growing concern as you scarf down pastry after pastry. “Okay, now I’m a little offended you’re so turned on by this.”

“Shut up, and let me eat.”

In minutes, the silver cart is empty. Chocolate smeared across a dozen haphazardly-arranged plates, dots of cream littering the spaces between plates and on the edge of the cart, it looks like a fucking war zone of confectionery.

You find yourself breathing heavy, your face and arms covered in the guts of those poor, poor baked goods. Dieter isn’t faring much better, his jacket stained and beard sticky. Your hunger is sated, for now, but you think of burgers and fries and a vanilla milkshake and immediately turn to Dieter, who stares back at you with wide eyes.

“I want six burgers–,”

“We should probably leave before we start a scandal–,”

You stare at each other, soldiers shell-shocked, rehabilitated werewolves in horror of their bloodshed. Bloodlust.

The second you get home you’re gonna give him the kind of blow job that stops his heart.

Half-way laughing, half-way crying, you take him by the collar, further smearing chocolate over the starched white linen and his neck, and kiss him soundly on his conspicuous mouth. He giggles through the kiss and cups your cheeks, his massive hands sticky and warm.

“We should go . . .” he murmurs again before pressing his lips to you again. Cream puffs or no, it all tastes better when you lick it off the corner of his mouth.

“We’re gonna have to walk past the lobby,” you bemoan into his patchy beard. Dieter smirks and without warning, squeezes your right tit, leaving a very clear chocolatey handprint on your dress.

“Dieter!”

“C’mon, baby, I wanna devour you. And I want all of them to know it.”

That was the thing about Dieter Bravo, he never did anything small. He never allowed you to feel small. He was obsessive about taking pictures of you, posting them everywhere, never ashamed of you and desperate to have the world see you the way he did.

Like you were delicious.

“I’ll buy you six burgers if you let us walk out like this.”

“Deal.”

Grinning like only a man with nothing to hide can, he takes you by the hand and leads you back towards the very fancy dinner you’ve both no doubt been kicked out of.

Something rises up in you the longer you stare at his broad back.

“Dieter, wait.”

He pauses, turns, and crumbles slightly beneath the weight and intensity of your kiss.

“I love you,” you say before he can slip his tongue into your mouth.

Dieter Bravo does nothing small, is nothing small. Except when it’s just you and him and the words you just uttered hang in the air between you. A small, hesitant smile expands across his lips, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing but it warms him nonetheless.

“I love you too.”

He kisses your nose and you sigh into him. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him. But then you might just eat him alive.

“Burgers, Dieter.”

“Right, right. How many do you think we can buy at one time?”

You both ignore the paparazzi and their cameras as you walk hand in hand, your heels in your other hand, with Dieter out the front door and into the limo, arguing about which fast food joint would let you get at least twenty burgers.

Nothing about Dieter Bravo is small. Especially his appetite.

#100 followers event #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble

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clusterbuck · 1 year

Text

saw the mug went into a fugue state wrote a tiny bobby & eddie conversation somewhere between 6x11 and 6x12

bobby calls the day after buck goes home from the hospital and tells eddie to come over for lunch. it doesn’t sound like an optional invitation.

“how are you doing?” he asks, before eddie’s even made it over the threshold.

eddie takes his jacket off, hangs it carefully by the door and follows bobby to the kitchen, where he’s in the middle of making sandwiches. bobby gestures at the bar stools, but eddie crosses his arms and rests his hip against the island counter. “buck’s going to be okay,” he says.

bobby continues chopping lettuce, his eyes focused on what he’s doing, as he replies. “that’s not what i asked. how are you doing?”

“i’m—” eddie starts, then stops.

“yeah,” bobby says, looking up from the lettuce only long enough to switch it out for a tomato. “thought that might be the case.”

“i’m—” eddie tries again, then sighs. frank is always reminding him to name his feelings, but eddie can’t seem to remember the name of a single emotion.

bobby just waits, chopping tomatoes in silence as eddie gathers his thoughts.

“i’m stuck,” eddie finally offers. “i feel like i’m stuck. buck’s home, and everyone is excited and making all these plans and i’m just—”

“stuck,” bobby says.

“yeah,” eddie says, then reaches for a cutting board and a cucumber, just to have something to do with his hands. “he’s gonna be fine, but—he almost died. he did die. i saw him die, bobby. i was tied to him, and he was dead.”

the cucumber lies before him, neatly sliced, and bobby hands him another one.

“i don’t know what i’m supposed to do with that,” eddie says, and slices into the second cucumber. “i don’t know how i’m supposed to just—live in a world where i know what it feels like to watch buck die.”

“the two of you might have that in common,” bobby says, and eddie thinks about the day he was shot, the flashes and blurs that he remembers.

every single flash has buck in it, the terror on his face smeared together with eddie’s blood.

“when athena was attacked—”

“—it’s not the same,” eddie says, sharp, cutting him off. “it’s not—we’re not—”

“in some ways, no,” bobby allows. “but in others—when athena was attacked, i thought i’d never stop being afraid.”

“did you?” eddie asks, quiet between slices. “stop?”

“god, no,” bobby says, and laughs. “she’s a police sergeant. i’m going to be afraid until the day she retires.”

“then—”

“i stopped giving the fear more space than it’s due,” bobby says. “eventually. over time. and you’ll find your way back to that, too.”

eddie keeps slicing the cucumber and lets the words settle over him, lets them find places in his mind he can keep them safe. places he can come back to, whenever he needs.

a moment later, he says the other thing. the one he barely understands himself, but he lays it at bobby’s feet anyway. “i don’t know what i’m supposed to do with him.”

“talk to him,” bobby says, gentle. “that’s the only way you’re going to figure it out.”

#911fic #shush emma #emma writes

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melliejellybellybean · 1 year

Text

A Match Made in a Classroom

Hunter/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k, whoops...

Warnings: none

It's parent teacher conference night for Omega!

Hunter hates it. While he usually dodges the responsibility, letting one of his brothers take his place, there is no one to save him this time.

You love parent teacher conferences. You love getting to meet the families who influence the children you spend your days with, and this time you just might meet someone special.

Omega has a plan. Her, her siblings, and Cid have devised a foolproof mission that she cannot wait to set in motion.

Hunter could endure all sorts of tortures. He had to, as a soldier, and with his heightened senses, a lot of mundane things could be considered torture. Yet, here he was, facing what was likely to be the death of him. There was no rescue waiting for him, no escape from the pain he’d experience in just a few short minutes. As he was led into the bleak building, he glanced at the sun for what would probably be the last time.

“Hunter, you have to stop being so dramatic.” Omega glared after Hunter sighed for the seventh time in the past two minutes. “My teacher is very nice. You’re not going to die in there.”

“Why couldn’t Tech do this?” Hunter grumbled, “Tech always comes to these things.”

“You already know the answer to that.” Omega reminded him.

He grimaced as he remembered Tech’s adamant claims that he could not separate from the Marauder for as much as two minutes for risk of “the ship exploding, leaving us stranded with no means of making an income, Hunter. With no income, we would have no way of replenishing our food supply or other needs. Is that what you want? Do you want to starve?”

Hunter had wanted to share a few choice words with Tech then, and even more now, but he settled for grumbling once more. “Stupid explosive power couplings.”

“It’ll be fun!” Omega tried for optimism, “You can finally see the super secret project I’ve been working on for the past two weeks!”

Hunter let up on his sulking a bit when he saw her bright smile. Ever since taking on Omega, he had felt wildly out of his depth. Good soldiers did not equate to good fathers, or father figures in his case. Even after a couple of years, Hunter continued to bumble through new situations and problems, making countless mistakes along the way. He had just started to feel like he had some sort of handle on raising her when Cid started this long chain of events that would lead to his current suffering.

…

“You’ve gotta enroll that kid in a school.” She shrugged one afternoon as she passed by Hunter.

“What?” Hunter suddenly twisted on the stool he’d been sitting on, nearly falling off.

Cid didn’t stop walking. “She’s gonna need to do basic math or something soon. The longer you wait, the more suspicious it gets.”

At the time, Hunter had shrugged it off. Cid was just being Cid: sticking her nose in places where it didn’t belong. However, it seemed she shared her unwanted opinion with more people than he had thought. A few days later, Echo casually slid into the seat across from Hunter in the booth where he’d been sitting.

“You know, I’ve been thinking and asking around. Apparently, there’s a pretty good school not too far from here. Walking distance.” Hunter raised one eyebrow, but Echo continued before he could interrupt. “Think about it. Every other kid Omega’s age is going to school right now. I don’t think it’s ‘low-profile’ for a kid to hang out in Cid’s parlor with a bunch of suspicious-looking men everyday. Not to mention, she’ll learn a lot.”

“She’s already learning a lot.” Hunter argued, “We’re teaching her. Some kids are homeschooled, that’s not completely rare.”

Echo wrinkled his nose, “I don’t think ship classes and modifications are standard curriculum.”

“Well, you can argue with Tech about that.” Hunter smirked, “Good luck getting him to admit that.”

“I actually agree with Echo.” Tech voice sounded from above. Hunter looked up to see his goggled brother peering over the side of the booth where he had evidently been eavesdropping. “Sending Omega to a primary school could be beneficial for both her and us.”

Tech took the stunned silence of his brothers as a chance to scramble out of his booth and shove himself next to Hunter. “Not only could a proper education lead to better opportunities for Omega in her future, but she could also gain social awareness from exposure to other adolescents.”

“Wish you’d gotten more of that.” Hunter muttered.

Tech adjusted his goggles, “The Kaminoans kept all of us separate from the regs in our early stages. It is hardly my fault my exceptional mind progressed at a rate faster than yours. I may have skipped past some social development, but we can all agree I’m better off for it.”

“Our point is,” Echo spoke up, “it could be better for Omega to be around other kids her age and learn from someone who is actually qualified to teach. We’re soldiers. We don’t know the first thing about teaching anything other than military strategy and maybe some basic math.”

Hunter sighed, “I get that, I do, but we can’t protect her there. What if she gets into some kind of trouble and we’re not there to help her?”

“What kind of trouble will she get into at school?” Echo argued, “Those kids are supervised, school isn’t a dangerous place.”

“Actually, there are significant statistics that indicate that violence in schools is more common than we would all like to think. It’s more likely to occur in larger cities on more populated planets, but Ord Mantell does not have a reputation as the safest location. In fact, a large movement has started in Coruscant protesting the lack of restrictions on–” Tech grunted when Echo kicked him under the table.

“Look,” Hunter relented, “I would love for Omega to have more friends her age, but it’s just not possible.”

“That’s not fair!” Wrecker’s booming voice made everyone jump. Somehow, the mountain of a man had snuck up on the group. “Omega deserves to have more friends. And she’s super smart! She’d love school! Aren’t we supposed to be giving her a normal life? You’re raising her like a Kaminoan!”

…

Somehow, Wrecker knew just what to say to make Hunter hurt. As much as he wanted to unkindly tell their brothers where they could stick their advice on his parenting style, his self-doubt combined with his resentment towards his own unfair upbringing caused his stubborn nature to crumble. Now, he stood next to Omega at her parent-teacher conference, trying to combat her contagious smile.

“Alright,” Hunter looked away to hide the grin that wanted to break on his face, “which one’s your classroom?”

Omega knew she had won. She grabbed her brother’s hand and all but ran to a classroom all the way at the end of the hall. The bulletin board outside the door was decorated to look like the inside of a generic classroom. A cartoonish cookie stood by the chalkboard and more, smaller cookies that had clearly been made by the students were scattered in the center. The top of the board read, “Come see how smart your cookies are!” Hunter smiled as he saw the googly-eyed cookie that had Omega’s name on it. It was a bit messy, but he thought it was the most perfect looking cookie in the galaxy.

Before Omega could knock on the door, it opened and a little Zabrak boy came out followed by his parents. “Alright Mr. and Mrs. Vint, thank you so much for coming. Your son has been such a pleasure to have in class. I’ll see you on Monday, Pev, have a nice weekend!”

Whatever response the family had, Hunter didn’t hear it. He was busy looking at what must’ve been the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Omega’s teacher stood in perfect poise, a small, patient smile on her lips. Her eyes were bright and full of energy and kindness. Hunter swore that the longer he looked into them he had more and more hope for the galaxy. Maybe if eyes that looked like that existed, there was good after all.

“Mr. Fett?” A voice broke Hunter’s trance. Blinking, he noticed that the smile on her face had slipped slightly in concern. How long had she been talking?

“I’m so sorry,” Hunter stammered, “what were you saying?”

Omega snorted, but her teacher just giggled. It was adorable, and it took all of Hunter’s discipline to pay attention to the words that came out of her gorgeous mouth, “I said it’s nice to finally meet you. Omega talks about her brothers all the time, but I think I hear of you most often.”

Slightly touched, Hunter glanced down at Omega. She met his soft gaze with a shrug and a weirdly mischievous grin. She was up to something. Immediately, the soft fuzzy feeling was replaced by suspicion, but before he could do more than narrow his eyes at his sister, the goddess of a woman spoke up again.

“Should we go in? I’m sure you’d love to see Omega’s progress.”

…

In your, admittedly not very long, teaching career, you have never experienced a parent-teacher conference quite like the first one that you had with Mr. Fett and Omega. He paid an almost scary amount of attention to every word you spoke and every move you made while Omega bounced her gaze between the two of you like she was watching a very intense dejarik match. However, you were a professional, so you took it in stride. Omega was an amazing student, always respectful and responsible so you didn’t have to worry about having any awkward conversations with parents who were convinced their “perfect angel” couldn’t possibly have hit that little girl with a textbook. He did, by the way, not that they believed you.

The only time you were able to break the weird tension away from whatever was going on with the Fett family was when you brought up Omega’s project. She had been practically vibrating in her chair as you started talking about it, and when you asked her to grab it from her desk, she shot out of her seat like a blaster charge. Before you or Mr. Fett could caution her from literally sprinting in the classroom, she tripped over the leg of a chair, falling hard to the ground.

“Omega!” Mr. Fett was out of his chair just as fast as her. You rushed just behind him, kneeling by Omega who was clutching at her knee.

“I’m sorry!” Omega sniffled, tears in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have run.”

Mr. Fett blinked, slightly shocked, but you cut in before he could say anything.

“It’s not your fault, Omega.” You soothed the girl, “It’s Mr. Chair’s fault. Between you and me, Mr. Chair is a bitter old man, he trips me almost once a week!”

Omega giggled through the tears that built in her eyes, “Really?”

“Really.” You nodded sagely before fixing your attention to her knee, “Let’s take a look at that.”

You coaxed her into showing you her badly scraped and bleeding knee. “Stars, Mr. Chair, look what you did to Omega!” You glared at the chair, then gasped dramatically, “How dare you say that! Apologize right now!” Smiling sheepishly at Omega, as if you were embarrassed for the chair, you whispered, “He said sorry.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Chair, I’m sure it was an accident.” Omega was a smart kid, so it meant the world to you that she played along with your ridiculous fantasy.

Mr. Fett finally spoke up, “That looks pretty nasty, kid, maybe we should go get it checked out.” When his eyes moved from Omega to you, your mouth suddenly went dry and your brain decided to cease functioning. His eyes were full of intense passion and care, for Omega you assumed, and despite his hard demeanor, you could see his gaze soften. It took an embarrassing amount of time to realize he was hinting at their departure from the conference, and by extension, you.

“Oh, right.” You stammered, trying desperately to regain your professionalism after ogling at Omega’s brother, “I think the nurse has left by now, but maybe I could call her and see if she’s not too far? Wait no, that’s not fair for her, I could probably track down a janitor to open the office. I think Ward is still here, he owes me a favor. If not, I’m pretty handy with a hairpin, the lock can’t be that hard to pick, right? I should not have said that!”

Mr. Fett chuckled and even more of your brain activity packed up its bags to leave the scene. “That’s alright, you couldn’t possibly be the worst influence on her life.”

You laughed. Way too loud. “I need to keep bandages in here.” You blurted again, unable to stop this trainwreck of an interaction.

“For when Mr. Chair is mean again.” He joked. The weird tension was back. Mr. Fett kept your gaze under lock and key and Omega, while still clearly in pain, looked like a kid on Life Day.

This time, he broke it, glancing down at Omega awkwardly. “We should probably get you to Tech so he can bandage that.”

“Yes!” You rushed to the door, opening it for them. “Not that I want you to leave, but that’s probably for the best. Because of Omega’s knee, not because I don’t like you or anything. Not that I don’t like you! Omega’s great and I’m sure you are too–”

“We understand.” Mr. Fett saved you from yourself with a smirk, before leaving out the door. Omega sent you one last big grin as she passed you.

You sighed against the doorway, watching the two figures walk down the hallway until they turned the corner and left your field of vision. Breaking out of your trance, you noticed Mrs. Tenfrir raising a judging eyebrow at you. Your face burned as you quickly retreated into the safety of your classroom. The whole PTA was going to hear about this now.

Three weeks after the eventful parent-teacher conference night, you stood at the school gates greeting the children coming to school for the day. Frowning, you looked at your watch. It’s not like Omega to be late. Everyday, or at least everyday for the past three weeks, Omega arrives at school exactly 15 minutes before the day starts. Everyday, or at least everyday for the past three weeks, she gives you a slightly mischievous smile as she runs past you into the building. Everyday, or at least everyday for the past three weeks, you look up to see the oldest Mr. Fett already staring at you before catching himself and walking back in the direction he came from. He thought he hid his blush, but you could always see it. It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, to see that Omega’s oldest brother had started bringing her to school. In the past, it had always been either Tech or Echo, both of which would always greet you warmly. However, their brother seemed to be content to admire you from a distance.

You weren’t stupid. As a younger teacher, there were plenty of single parents who flirted with you or, on some occasions, even boldly asked you out, but you always maintained a professional relationship with them. Yet, something was different about Mr. Fett. Maybe it was his dark and broody persona or the softness that he tried and failed to keep from showing through said persona, but you felt yourself looking forward to catching a glimpse of him every morning, exactly 15 minutes before the day started.

…

“Omega, we need to get going, you’re going to be late.” Hunter reminded his younger sister for the fifth time this morning.

Omega didn’t even pull her head out of the bush she was buried in, “I know, but I promise, this is the last one. Aha!”

Triumphantly, she held up a flower she had just wrestled from the ground, adding it to the growing bouquet in her other hand. Although it significantly slowed them down, Hunter found her determination to choose only “the most perfectly perfect-looking flowers for this mission” endearing.

“The only mission you should be focusing on is getting to school on time.” Hunter scolded, “If you’re late, you’re explaining yourself to your teacher.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to explain to her?” Omega teased, “Instead of just staring at her like normal?”

Hunter almost tripped over a rock. “I do not stare.”

“Do too.” Omega chided.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“I’m watching to make sure you get in alright.” Hunter tried to maintain his dignity, but it was hard when he was arguing with a 13-year-old. Looking ahead, he was relieved to see that they were approaching the school gates.

Omega looked like she was going to continue arguing, but she cut herself off when she noticed you standing at the gates looking almost worried. Omega ran off, and upon seeing her, you smiled wide and called out. You were really pretty when you smiled. You were always pretty, in Hunter’s opinion, but whenever you smiled or laughed or joked with Omega, Hunter felt his heart skip several beats. He watched as Omega held out the flowers to you, presenting them in such a grand way, but then she whispered something in your ear and your eyebrows shot up. You looked at Hunter, a small blush spreading across your face as you took them, and Hunter felt his stomach drop. Sending Omega one last smile, you ushered her inside before approaching Hunter.

“Good morning, Mr. Fett,” you greeted him politely, “Thank you for the flowers.”

Hunter opened his eloquent mouth, “What?”

You giggled, raising an eyebrow, “Omega tells me that you picked these flowers for me?”

“Um, yes,” Hunter stammered, Omega’s antics finally making sense, “They just looked so beautiful, and so do you today, I mean, you look good most days–all days! You look nice all days, but today I just happened to be walking past all these flowers and I decided to get them… for you?”

“Well, thank you, again.” You started to turn away.

Don’t let her go! Hunter’s mind screamed at him. A voice blurted, “Would you want to get dinner sometime?” It took Hunter a second to realize that the voice was his own.

You froze, “Dinner?”

Hunter’s heart was pounding, “Yes.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“And no one else?”

“Yes.”

“Like a date?”

Hunter paused. He was too far deep now. If you hated him after this, he could always let his brothers handle all of Omega’s school events again. They’d probably be better at it anyways. “Yes?”

Silence fell between you both. Hunter’s eyes never left yours, but yours shifted around. He watched you ponder every angle of the decision you were about to make and, what felt like an eternity later, you locked your eyes back on his. “Yes.”

Hunter was sure he was dreaming. “Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded, completely certain in your choice, “Does tomorrow night work? You could pick me up here around 6?”

“Yes.”

“Can you say anything other than ‘yes’?”

“Yes.” Hunter answered before he could think about it.

You laughed, “Well, I’ll see you then, Mr. Fett.”

“Please, call me Hunter.” He had meant to make it sound like a request, but it came out in a desperate beg.

“I have to go do my job, Hunter.” You teasingly chided and began to back away again, maintaining eye contact as long as you could. His name rolled off of your tongue like it was always meant to. Hunter never saw any particular beauty in his name, but the way it sounded coming from you made it seem like the most poetic word to be created.

For the next day and a half, Hunter was a mess. He tripped and fell down the ramp of the Marauder, he accidentally put salt in his coffee instead of sugar, he even mistook Gonky for a trash bin at some point. However, he wasn’t the only one acting odd. He caught Echo smirking to himself on more than one occasion. Tech kept bouncing between whispering to Omega and whispering to Cid, and Wrecker was being entirely too quiet.But none of that was on Hunter’s mind when he found himself sitting across from you at a restaurant. It was smaller, nice and quiet. He had heard Cid talking to AZI about it the other night, and it just turned out to be the perfect setting for this date.

“You clean up very nicely.” You broke the semi-awkward silence that had fallen since the two of you had been seated.

Hunter thought about how he had spent the better half of the day in the refresher preparing himself mentally and physically to meet you. He decided not to mention that. “You do too. I didn’t think you could have looked even more stunning, but I was wrong.” He practiced that line for almost 15 minutes.

You looked down at the table to hide your blush. Hunter could still see it, but he thought the gesture was cute. “Oh!” You snapped your head, eyes bright, “I almost forgot. I brought Omega’s project.”

“The one from the conference?” Hunter watched you root around in your bag until you pulled out a rolled up sheet of flimsy that looked like multiple smaller sheets hastily glued together.

“Yeah,” You started to unroll it, “The assignment was to make a family tree. Most kids just put mom, dad, brother, sister, maybe a tooka if they had one, but Omega was very determined to put every single one of her brothers.”

The paper was a mess. The family tree was less tree than it was a very, very long line, but it was filled, in Omega’s messy handwriting, of clone names. He saw Rex, Gregor, Cut and his family, and even some clones that she had only ever heard of like Fives, Wolffe, Waxer and Boil. There were even clones that Hunter had never met. And right in the middle, written the biggest, were five names: Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair. Hunter felt a lump begin to form in his throat. Omega had never known the Crosshair that the rest of them did. She only ever knew the man who ruthlessly chased them across the galaxy, trying to kill them, but she still thought of him as a brother. Enough to write his name on a family tree for a school assignment that would one day get lost, thrown away, or left behind. It was something so simple and insignificant, and it was going to make Hunter cry.

“She gave up her recess for three days straight to finish this project.” You spoke barely louder than a whisper. “I wanted to make sure you saw it since you couldn’t at the conference.”

Memories of the conference flooded Hunter’s mind. Admittedly, he hadn’t listened to what you were saying all that much, having been too focused on making sure he wasn’t actively drooling over you, but he recalled the way you soothed Omega.

“You’re really good with her.” Hunter cleared his throat to himself, “Sometimes I feel so out of my depth. Like I’m making a million and one mistakes and I can’t stop myself, but you do everything right with her.”

You blushed, just now realizing how closely he had actually watched you interact with his sister. “She’s an amazing kid, kind and selfless. I don’t think you realize how good of a job you’re actually doing with her. She couldn’t have a better brother.”

“Don’t let my other brothers hear that.” Hunter joked, trying to deflect the praise, “I would never have been able to calm her down like you did at the conference.”

“My mom used to do that.” You looked down at your lap, “Like Omega, I tended to think that I was responsible for things that were out of my control, and that’s how she helped me get past that. I always thought it was the funniest thing ever. Sometimes, I would purposefully hurt myself on things just to hear her scold them. She definitely knew when I did it on purpose, but I think it makes it all the more special that she would indulge me.”

You were pulled out of your memories by the sensation of something brushing your hand. Looking up, you saw that his hand had traveled across the table, his pinky brushing yours silently asking for permission. You turned your hand up, interlocking his fingers with yours.

Hunter opened his mouth, almost having to force the words out, “Can I kiss you?”

Your throat closed up, so all you could do was give a shy nod. The Kaminoans used to say that it took a team to raise an army. Hunter always felt that saying was a load of bantha droppings. What did they know about raising people with real thoughts and feelings? Now he realized they were sort of right. It took a team to raise a person, but most importantly, it took the right team. Not a team of the smartest doctors, most celebrated engineers, and ruthless bounty hunters, but a team of people who truly loved each other and worked together for each other’s benefit. As he started to lean into you and you to him, Hunter realized that maybe he wasn’t the wrong person to be raising Omega. Maybe he just wasn’t the only right person. Maybe he needed his brothers, and just maybe, he needed you. Hunter’s lips met yours and nothing had ever felt more right for him. And nothing would ever feel right again without you by his side. …

Omega came sprinting into Cid’s parlor. It was late, the only occupants of the room being Cid, her brothers, and AZI. They all looked at her in anticipation, waiting for her to relay information gathered from her stealth operation.

Beaming, she revealed the Mantell Mix she had been hiding behind her back. “Mission accomplished.”

A stunned silence fell for a beat, everyone processing that their work had paid off. Then the room erupted into cheers.

This fic is a gift for @miseries-mistress as a part of @cloneficgiftexchange‘s... clone fic gift exchange... (that sentence went a lot better in my head). Your dialogue prompt just screamed Hunter to me. I headcanon that he'd fall in love with someone after seeing them interact with Omega or Omega would love them before he did. I'm super excited to be able to post this for you to read, and I really hope you like it!

It was a lot of fun to participate in this fic exchange and write this. I have been looking for an excuse to start writing for the longest time and this exchange was the perfect opportunity! I am in love with the idea of Omega in a primary or elementary school, I think she'd be the best student to have. I also love the idea of Omega matchmaking all of her brothers. So, with those two ideas in mind, this fic was born! What was meant to be 800 words of Hunter being absolutely smitten with his daughter figure's teacher turned into 4k+ words of character analysis on him and Omega. Whoops. I hope yall enjoyed it!

#CFGE23 #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x f!reader #tbb hunter x fem!reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch #omegas a matchmaker #LET OMEGA GO TO SCHOOL AND MAKE FRIENDS JENNIFER

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