#as someone so emotionless n nearly broken

[sexysilverstrider]

while i love postgame N who is now filled with love and emotion and embraces his feelings out loud im a sucker for cold N who looks like a lifeless doll at times and has his hopes for humanity wiped out as he carries on with his mission like a man who has given up on a heart

this man is on the verge of destroying himself from the inside out if it werent for the protag

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Shadows of Fluttering Leaves

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: depressed reader, grief, victim blaming, implied history of sexual assault/harassment, bad parenting, not super healthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I am so sorry I've updated everything sporadically this year, y'all. I've been working really hard to stockpile updates so I'll be able to post at least biweekly for the rest of the year (if everything goes to plan!) As always, please comment/reblog to leave feedback. And a giant thank you to @gracethyomen for helping me plan this arc and make their fight more cruel. She is the queen of angst, go follow her.

w/c: 4.8k

You didn’t recall much from the past three days, but that was because there wasn’t anything to recall. After your conversation–if it could even be called that–with Frank, it was as if your soul had unstitched itself from your body. You went through your days as an emotionless husk. Your creative spark extinguished, your joy unreachable.

The walls in your building were thin enough that you could hear him moving around. Going to work and returning home to Max as if you'd never existed. Perfectly fine without you. Every heavy footfall that penetrated the rotting drywall brought a fresh sheen of tears to your eyes. 

The burly marine had become such a welcomed part of your life, losing him was like losing a limb. His absence felt like a bad dream. If you focused hard enough, you could still feel his calloused hands, smell the cheap soap and spicy clove aftershave he used. But a simple exhale would wash the scent away, and you were alone again–tired, anguished, and unloved.

You drifted through the day, unsure what to do with yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to go into work, or even communicate with Leo and Stacy for more than a brief text to prove you were still alive.

While this evening hadn’t been much different, the sight of your mom’s name flashing across the top of your phone screen as it buzzed had caused enough of an adrenaline rush to force you to chat with someone. Your throat felt sore after talking for the first time in nearly 72 hours, your vocal chords still recovering from their sudden overuse. Shuddering as you willed the memory of the call to fade, you felt the tell tale prick in the corners of your eyes.

Staring down at the damp concrete, you blinked frantically in an attempt to keep the endless tears at bay. The tilt of your head caused raindrops to drip off of your hood, rolling down your forehead. Around you, the slam of water against pavement and steel drowned out the thud of your determined footsteps. Blowing out a breath you slipped an unfeeling mask onto your face as you continued your walk to the bakery.

It wasn’t more than a few blocks from your apartment to the Rainy Day, but the beams of street lights would draw attention to your glassy eyes, and you didn’t need to highlight your fragility for any creeps that might be lurking at this hour. You'd had more than enough unwanted male attention for the week. Once you were safely behind the locked doors, you could look as broken down as you needed to.

Though you were exhausted, your confusion-and-betrayal-addled brain was still unable to rest and your hands itched to do something. Wallowing in your bed wouldn’t quell the uneasiness that speaking with your mom had ignited mere hours ago. But cooking might. At least, you hoped that was the case.

A crackle of lightning illuminated the bakery as you approached; the strike of light refracting through the windows made the place look rather sinister, draping it in oddly shaped shadows. Slipping the keys from your pocket, you tried not to cringe at the cold rain as it splattered against your exposed hand. Thunder rolled overhead as you waggled the key in the lock, finally getting the damn thing to budge enough for the door to shove open.

Stepping inside, you bolted the door behind you, using your phone flashlight to maneuver through the stacked tables and chairs as you moved to the kitchen. Before getting to work, you stripped out of your semi-drenched top and slipped into a clean t-shirt adorned with the logo of the cafe. Flicking on the overhead lights, you threw a hand up to shield your sensitive eyes as they strobed briefly before steadying into their normal bright rays. Taking a place by your preferred station, you took a moment to reflect on the tasks you had cut out for you.

Though Leo was more than capable of replicating your work if you detailed the recipes, they were happy to let you be the creative lead in your shared kitchen. As they’d mentioned multiple times over text the past few days, your absence from the space meant less variation in pastries for the bakery, and more for Leo to do. If you weren’t so emotionally depleted, you would have felt more guilty about abandoning them so suddenly.

Apparently, the emotional turmoil that talking to your mother always stirred was good for something. It had gotten you here, at least. Coating your station in a thin layer of flour, you ran through the motions of a basic croissant recipe.

You weren't quite feeling up to experimenting yet, but croissants you could do.

Soon enough, the smell of salted butter and yeast engulfed the room and your fatigued mind began to wander. Despite your best efforts to forget the comment, your mother's voice echoed in your ears.

“Really, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

The condescension in her tone clung to you like the barbs of an untrimmed rose. Your brain feebly tried to reassure you that she had no idea what she was talking about. To remind you that she didn't even know his name, that you'd told her—at most—three sentences about the whole situation.

But the majority of your brain was still reeling from the abrupt collapse of your relationship with Frank. And it was far too weak to not spiral at the implication of your mom's question.

Because, while she wasn't fully aware of who Frank was and what he meant to you, she was intimately informed of your history with men–hence her thoughtless words this evening.

Your dating history was...pitiful, to say the least. You tended to draw attention from the wrong men. Bosses, teachers, even your own relatives.

It had been your reality for as long as you could remember. As a child, whenever you'd come to your mother with another sob story about attention that you hadn't meant to attract, the blame was always placed squarely on your shoulders. Your outfits were too provocative, your actions too enticing. It didn't matter that they were the ones misunderstanding your kindness as an open invitation. It was still your fault.

Expecting her to sympathize with you when you told her you'd been grabbed by a stranger as you left the construction site was foolish. But it still hurt to know that she didn't.

What hurt more was the little voice in the back of your head that agreed with her. Knowing damn well that you'd chosen that outfit to fetch the gaze of a specific man. That the low cut neckline was meant to be provocative. That it was your fault that you'd been humiliated. That your own desperation had led to the continued phantom sensation of a large hand gripping your arm against your will. 

“If you dangle bait long enough, something will bite.” She reminded you. It wasn't the ocean's fault that you'd been hoping for a specific fish.

“But I didn't want them.” You'd lamented to her. You were tired of being a plaything, a quick fuck. You wanted something more, something real. And it had turned to ash in your delicate grasp before you could so much as appreciate it.

She wasn't sympathetic. Chastising you for forgetting your place, for getting attached, for seeking love in places it didn't exist.

“Love is harder to come by when you're, well...you know.”

You slammed the ball of elastic dough onto the bench, kneading it aggressively as tears poured down your face. Your stomach twisted as it heaved with sobs, the sentiment from your mother sounding eerily similar to the curt observation that Frank had hurled at you.

You ain't my wife.

He was right. You weren't his wife. His wife was beautiful, and caring, and patient. She'd loved him, had children with him, made a home for him.

Think I'm your little boyfriend or somethin'?

Biting your lip to stifle a sob, the feeling of foolishness crested in your chest again. It was humiliating to be called out like that,  especially when your naive little heart had been convinced he felt the same way.

I never wanted that.

Those words still hit you like a sock to the gut. He never wanted a relationship. He never wanted you.  Your stupid feelings were clearly unrequited, but how were you supposed to know that?

Was your childhood so deprived of love that simple acts of kindness had your heart doing backflips? Were his pet names and compliments just his gentlemanly nature because he was afraid to offend you?

This was a mistake.

His sweet remarks, calling you beautiful, the constant teasing—the relationship you once had with Frank began to play in your head; the muted colors of the picture doing nothing to make your chest ache less when his face sprang to mind. Your brain continued its depressing montage: Frank smiling at you, his gruff voice lifting around the word “sunshine”, his genuine interest in your work, his daily visits to the cafe, the way he leaned into every touch you offered him. All meaningless. Just another regret.

Exhaling forcefully, you flapped your hands in an attempt to stop their trembling. If the fragile dough ripped between your fingers, it would ignite a full meltdown. Clenching the muscles in your hands, you relaxed them as you forced every thought from your head, focusing on the pliant mass beneath your rolling pin as you mashed it into a lopsided rectangle. Carefully lifting the edges of the shape, you tossed it onto the sheet pan you'd prepared as tenderly as you could.  Using your fingertips to stretch it into a more appealing shape, you nodded in satisfaction, shoving the tray onto a cart and picking up your rolling pin again.

Each extension of your forearms, pressing the wooden cylinder into the raw pastry, condensing and lengthening the blob with small, stiff movements. Your elbows creaked with every stretch of the elastic dough, the swing of your arms feeling almost foreign despite being a common practice in the kitchen. A 72-hour break was too long, apparently. Any other day, you'd dance through this recipe effortlessly; Today though, every step felt choppy and hesitant, as if your brain expected you to fail again and again.

You hadn't felt this hopeless in a kitchen since the last few weeks of your atrocious entrepreneurial experience years ago. Yet another example of you being too trusting, too optimistic.

Your mouth flooded with the metallic tang of blood as your teeth dug into the flesh of your cheek, halting the choking despair that threatened to drag you down to the linoleum floor. You wanted to give in; your brain was still a ball of exhausted mush incapable of handling your day-to-day tasks.

Sloppily prepping a few more trays for their initial rise, you shoved the croissant dough onto the proofing cart and out of sight. The smell of yeast usually made you happy, but the biting edge of the scent was turning your stomach. It was becoming increasingly clear that you'd thrown yourself into your work without the stability to handle the sensory input of the bakery. Your head was pulsing because of the fluorescent lights, the whir of the electric mixer rattling your ear drums. Once the sticks of butter you'd added to the stainless steel bowl of the machine were smooth, you shoved the lever to shut it off—letting out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Slapping heaping scoops of the creamed butter into a half-sheet pan, you set the pan in the fridge to solidify and shuffled blearily into the break room, collapsing onto the worn leather couch.

“You are such an asshole.”

Gritting your teeth as the words ripped you from an uneasy sleep, you peeled one eye open reluctantly. Two shadowy figures swayed in your field of vision, neither looking particularly happy with you.

The taller figure marched towards you. ”Three days? THREE DAYS? No calls, only a single fucking text,“ The annoyed voice grew closer, making you curl in on yourself.

”'M sorry.“ You mumbled, tears springing to your eyes.

”You better have a better apology than that. They were worried sick.“ A blurry image of Stacy manifested against the doorway to the breakroom, her arms crossed. Standing in front of your shoulders, hands firmly attached to their hips, was Leo.

”We were worried sick,“ Leo corrected, throwing Stacy a look.

Not denying the allegation, Stacy's cheeks dusted pink.

Crouching in front of you, Leo gave you a once over. Their furious expression quickly morphing into one of concern. “Did you sleep here?”

“Didn't mean to, the kitchen was just,” You gave a limp shrug, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Too much.”

“How long have you been here?” Stacy asked, striding over to drape her legs across the arm of the couch.

“Since midnight-ish.” You muttered, shame pitching your voice lower.

“Babes,“ Leo sighed, running a palm over your exposed arm as you tried to shrink into the couch cushions. ”What happened? Was it your mom?“

You should your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “Pete.”

“Pete?” Stacy raised an eyebrow, looking at Leo with wide eyes.

“What did he do, hun?” Leo plopped into a cross-legged position, leaning against the couch with an expectant look.

“Did you break up?” Stacy's voice was uncharacteristically soft, but the words were still teasing.

You burst into tears.

“Stace!” Leo scolded, climbing onto the couch and hefting your torso up so that you could lay in their lap as you bawled.

“What? It seemed impossible!!” Stacy said, mortified. She absorbed Leo's vacated spot, hands hovering apprehensively in front of you. “Shit. Please don't cry.”

“It's a bit late for that.” Leo huffed, cradling your cheek with one hand. “What did that bastard do to you?”

Gulping in air, you cowered against Leo's thigh. Your friends sat quietly, patiently awaiting your story. With a stuttering inhale, you wiped the newest round of tears from your face and pushed yourself into a seated position—gratefully leaning into the arm Leo threw around your shoulders. Looking up at them wide-eyed, you waited for their encouraging nod before speaking.

“Um..” Your voice was hoarse, words shaky. “So three days ago, I tried to bring him lunch...”

As if your consciousness was sparing you from the depressing events, the words tumbled from your lips instinctively, thoughtlessly. The story pouring directly from your torn heart, accompanied by a few stray tears.

Throughout your ramble, your friends remained silent–sandwiching your body between them. Leo's sturdy frame was a comforting weight to your left. Stacy had migrated to your other side, tentatively resting a manicured hand on your shoulder. They were both eerily still as you caught them up on the implosion of your relationship with your neighbor.

Eventually, you sighed, your body sagging with exhaustion. Briefly lifting your hands, you gestured to the small, bare break room you'd passed out in. “And then you found me in here, and that's it I guess.”

Your mouth snapped shut, your eyes flinging the final few droplets of saline off of your lashes as you blinked at your lap. There was a beat of silence. Two. Three.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Is he fucking serious?“ Stacy bit out, retracting her hand to cross her arms. Her brows were raised, jaw clenched as she looked at Leo.

”He told you that you were a mistake?“ Leo squawked, clearly fuming.

“I mean, that's not—” You began to reason, words dissolving on your tongue as Leo grabbed your hand with a glare.

“Absolutely not. Do not start that bullshit.”

Frowning, you averted your eyes. ”I'm not doing anything.“

“Princess, we love you, but don't pretend you're not blaming yourself.“ Stacy scoffed, standing from the couch and tugging at the roots of her hair.

“And defending him while you're at it.” Leo gently prodded your side with a knuckle, giving you an all-too-knowing glance. At your resulting pout, they sighed. “I know that hearing your mom blame you again and again is hard to unlearn, but she's wrong. So is Pete and all the other men who have done this to you. You deserve better.”

“Seconded.” Stacy nodded firmly, pointing a finger at you. “The next time I see him, I swear on my grandmother—”

The petite brunette was pacing, fists clenched in her fury. Leo looked equally angry, though they were much less obvious about it. Smirking at Stacy's empty threat, they finished it for her. ”We'll beat him senseless with a baseball bat.“

Giggling, you leaned into the hug Leo offered, exhaling into their shoulder. ”I appreciate you both, but I'd rather just move past it.“

”Deal.“ Leo kissed the top of your head, holding out a hand to help you stand from the couch.

”Speak for yourself, I am not willing to let this slide.“ Stacy called with a huff, stalking out to the counter to begin prepping for the morning rush.

”Should I be worried?“ You bit your bottom lip, eyes following her out of the break room.

”Nah, you know her. It'll pass, this is just how she shows her love.“ Leo reassured you, striding into the kitchen at the ambling pace you set. ”We would do anything for you, you know.“

Smiling bashfully, you nodded. “I appreciate it, Leo. Thank you.”

Though you were still dead on your feet and reeling from the emotional whiplash you'd been put through, an odd form of peace had engulfed you. Talking things out had taken a massive weight off of your shoulders.

You felt heat prick your cheeks as you sheepishly recalled the way you'd isolated yourself after leaving the construction site. At the time, it had felt like the natural path forward. But it clearly hadn't done you any good.

Your coworkers were eternally patient as you fumbled your way through your daily tasks, your brain still a glob of jelly after being berated by both Frank and your mother.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you collapsed onto a bar stool. Kneading your forehead with one hand, you inhaled deeply.

Peeking around the corner of the walk-in, Leo frowned. “All of them?”

Nodding miserably, you forced a response around the lump in your throat. ”Every. Single. One.“

”Aw, babes.“ Leo pouted, coming to inspect the trays you'd thrown around your station as your defeat grew.

”They're all flat. How did it slip my mind that the rain would throw off the humidity in the main room? That's, like, proofing 101.“ You moaned, prodding one of the dense croissants with a finger. ”Christ, I feel like I've lost my mind. It should not be this hard to do something simple.“

Patting your back reassuringly, your best friend ignored your protests, lining your ovens with the ruined croissants and setting a timer. “Do you remember the first time Ez and I broke up?”

Ezra, Leo's on-again-off-again partner, had broken things off for the first time right before you both took your final preparation exam for your first pastry class in school. Leo had nearly flunked the course after they used salt instead of sugar in every dish.

Stifling a chuckle, you fiddled with the strands of your apron. “I seriously think Allard was reconsidering his decision to teach. His face!“ You and Leo snorted in tandem, picturing the old french man's grimace.

”Oh he definitely had regrets. My point is, the brain works in mysterious ways when you're grieving.“ Leo stated matter-of-factly.

”Grieving?“ You asked. “Frank didn't die–”

“I know that, smartass. But you still lost something, did you not?”

Pondering for a moment, you conceded. “I suppose.”

“So, your brain is handling this just like any other loss. Grief processing is its current main priority, remembering how to make picture-perfect croissants is not even in the backlog.”

“It should be, given that we operate a bakery.” You grumped, watching the pitiful slabs of dough puff slightly in the oven.

Smacking you gently over the back of your head, Leo's expression turned endearingly stern. “You, my dear, need to be kinder to yourself. Something huge and incredibly hurtful just happened to you. Give yourself a moment to breathe.”

Their soft command gave you pause. They weren't wrong. You'd jumped from escaping, to wallowing, to working without so much as a millisecond to relax. Had this bullshit happened to anyone else, you would've been much more understanding. But being kind to yourself was never your strong suit.

Mulling over the possibility of granting your brain a smidge of grace, you watched the flat pastries expand ever so slightly as they began to brown under the yellow oven lights. Realization finally striking you, you turned to Leo with a quizzical expression.

“You put them in the oven.” You stated simply, mind not quite forming a question to remedy your confusion.

Chuckling, Leo nodded. “I did.” They leaned against your station with a smile.

“Kitchen adaptations, hun. What did we used to do with pastry dough that didn't rise properly?”

Understanding dawning on you, your lips parted. “Croissant sandwiches.”

Squeezing your shoulder, Leo hummed in confirmation, striding back to their station to finish shaping bread loaves. You continued to watch the thin crescents puff, reminding yourself that the mistake was fixable. Sure, they wouldn't be the gorgeous, fluffy pastries you'd envisioned—but they could still be made into something delicious. For today, that was enough.

Feeling less hopeless, you wiped your hands on your apron and strolled over to the lines of proofing bread, moving them to the proofing cart easily. ”What are we stocking today?” You asked, hoping they'd notice the hidden meaning of the question.

“Let's stick to simple comfort foods. The weather is nasty, we probably won't be too busy. After we finish the staples, we could make some baguettes and a soup or two? Maybe some kitchen sink cookies and brownies too. Those won't take much effort.“ Leo tapped their chin thoughtfully, looking to you with a soft expression. ”Sound good?“

Smiling, you nodded–glad that Leo was willing to take charge for the day. Sliding your arms around your best friend's waist, you squeezed them tightly before bustling off to prepare some yeast.

Over the next few weeks, your mood improved significantly. Out of concern for you, and more than likely out of concern for the bakery, Stacy and Leo had spent a handful of nights at your place–helping you wind down after work, and motivating you to get up the next morning. Their presence and constant glares towards your and Frank's shared wall made it easier to move forward without him. You could feel your consciousness wading through the stages of grief, rapidly approaching acceptance.

For now, though, you were still moping–much to your friends’ dismay.

”C'mon, Princess! Live a little!! You haven’t gone out with us in forEVER“ Stacy whined, pinching your arm as she took a seat on the counter you were cleaning.

Scowling at her, you switched your rag out for a broom, determined to keep tidying around the obstruction she presented. ”I already told you. I don't feel like going out tonight, Stace.“

Sweeping stray coffee beans from under the machines, you fought back an eye roll at her snort. ”Oh, I'm sorry, did you have plans besides crying on your couch while watching rom coms?“

”Christ, Stacy, I told you to invite her, not insult her!“ Leo scolded as they exited the kitchen.

”Someone needs to say it!“ Stacy threw her hands in the air, looking at you pointedly. ”Being sad has its time and place, but the only way to truly get over a man is by going out and getting wasted, you both know I'm right!“ She huffed in frustration as both you and Leo opened your mouths to protest.

Scratching the back of their neck sheepishly, Leo raised a brow at you. “She actually might have a point.”

Pumping her fists victoriously, Stacy leapt from the counter. “See? It'll be good for you!”

Glancing between her and Leo, you sighed. Pouting in distaste, you knew you had been outvoted. If you refused to go, they’d drag you out anyway. “Fine.”

Your friends cheered, high-fiving their success. Stacy danced over to you. “It's gonna be great, princess. You'll see!”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You snarked, dipping the formerly abandoned rag in a bin of bleach solution and resuming your afternoon disinfecting duties in the front of the cafe while your coworkers plotted the outing.

“What are you going to wear, hun?” Leo called over their shoulder to you, after complaining to Stacy about their lack of cute clothes.

“Considering I am only going to please the two of you? I'm not quite sure.” You snorted, tone still sharp with irritation.

“Well, since you're clearly in such a great mood,” Leo giggled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Maybe we could get ready together?”

“We totally should! While blasting EDM really loudly in your living room!” Stacy grinned, feigning innocence despite her clear intentions to make Frank's life a living hell.

“Ok now you are definitely not invited.” You frowned, imagining how much he'd curse at you if you became a horrid neighbor on top of all your other faults.

“It's cute that you think you have a choice!” Stacy laughed evilly, rubbing her hands together in a movie-villain-esque motion.

Groaning miserably, you stiffened as Stacy padded over and held a hand out for the rag.

Making a grabby hand gesture, her other palm landed on her hip. “Hand the towel over, princess. You and Leo can head to your place to get you all fixed up and I'll finish cleaning.”

“I'm not sure whether I should be offended that you're implying I don't look stunning like this,” You circled a hand around your unwashed face. “Or worried that you're offering to lock up. You hate closing.”

“Exactly. That’s how much I want you to have a good night out, dude!” Stacy gave you a stern look, flicking her eyes between the damp rag and your stubborn expression.

Sighing heavily, you tossed the rag to her and slipped out of your apron. “If this place isn't gleaming tomorrow–”

“Yah, yah.” Stacy waved you off, putting earbuds in as she walked to the other end of the room.

“The disrespect.” You muttered, turning to Leo who was clearly amused at the fact that you'd been outwitted by the other girl.

“C'mon, sweets. We'll need to stop somewhere for drinks unless we want to go into debt to get drunk tonight.” Grabbing your hand, the two of you left Stacy and the bakery behind as you braved the heat outside.

Slogging up the stairs, arms laden with a paper bag filled with the cheapest alcohol the three of you could stomach, you adjusted your center of gravity to avoid toppling down the stairs. It felt like you were swimming upstream, given the weight in your hold and the immense humidity of the stairwell. Finally reaching the landing, you scrunched your nose as a bead of sweat dripped from it.

“Took you long enough,” Leo remarked, smirking at you from your front door, having made it up the stairs long ago. 

“Not all of us have a lithe athletic build and the heart rate of an Olympian.” You huffed, shuffling toward them with a small smile. Despite your initial apprehension, excitement had started to build in your chest at the thought of the night ahead of you. As you were about to express that much to Leo, the click of a doorknob stopped you in your tracks. 

Stepping out of his apartment, adorably happy pitbull in tow, was none other than your neighbor, Frank Castle. 

Frozen in place, it was a miracle you didn’t drop the bag in your shock. You’d assumed he’d avoid you just as you’d avoided him. Apparently you weren’t that lucky. 

Looking a bit surprised himself, Frank hesitated for a minute before plastering a scowl on his face and tugging at the leash in his grasp. “C’mon Max.” 

Watching Frank stalk past you without so much as a glance in your direction, your mouth dropped open with indignation. Poor Max was dragged to the stairs behind him, despite the dog’s efforts to greet you on the way down the hall. 

Gritting your teeth, you marched to your own door and unlocked it. Carefully depositing the bottles on the ground, you grabbed a handle of cherry vodka, cracking it open and taking a swig as you stomped into your apartment. 

“I suppose that’s one way to handle whatever just happened.” Leo murmured, studying you with a concerned frown. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“Nope!” You grinned, pulling another gulp of liquor from the bottle. “Care to help me pick an outfit? I’m hoping to drink for free tonight.” 

Striding into your room with Leo on your heels, your gut burned as the lump of despair you’d been clinging to for a week burned red hot with rage. Your friends were right. You deserved better. 

If Frank Castle didn’t want you, then you sure as hell didn’t want him.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[sirhyst]

AdoptiveDad!Fukuzawa x male reader

TW: abandonnent (not by fukuzawa), burnout, and implied suicidal ideation

Pronouns used: he/him

Note: this is more of a vent and I used Fukuzawa cause he’s my favourite father figure character.

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“I can’t stop!” Y/N yelled grabbing onto Fukuzawa’s haori, tears streaming down his face.

He needed this to feel purpose. He needed someone to be proud of him. His real parents only being proud of him when they could use his achievements to brag, otherwise he was of no use. Who was once the golden child, is now the burnt out disappointment.

Fukuzawa sighed. He knew there was nothing he could say in the moment to ease the boys pain.

“If I can’t do it then,” the boy sniffled, “then you won’t be proud of me and leave!” He pushed his face into Fukuzawa’s chest.

Amidst all the crying, the boy mentally cursed himself for always needing praise from people. Always feeling like he had to be above all in order to deserve the praise giving by his found father, Fukuzawa. He wasn’t like them but—that lingering voice that said that Fukuzawa would not love him anymore if he wasn’t the best. Failure wasn’t an option. Neither was giving up, even if it costed him his life, and many times it nearly did.

Fukuzawa hesitantly wrapped his arms around him. To others, he seemed to be an emotionless man, and a younger him would have wondered how he ended up in this situation, but this boy was one of few who he had come to love as a son

So he stood there with him and let his tears soak into his garments. He knew that there were no amount of vows he could make that would assure the younger in front of him that he would never hurt him. He knew that the best thing he could do at this moment, was to say nothing and let the boy cry away his burden. Perhaps, Fukuzawa thought to himself, the boy didn’t want a string of broken promises. He looked down when the boy squeezed him tighter.

Fukuzawa knew that in that moment, the younger just needed him to be there. It was not a permanent fix as anyone would have hoped, nevertheless, it brought a comfort to him that no amount assurances would provide.

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[hinatastinygiant]

62 | Midnight Green

Pairing: Tokyo Revengers x Fem!Reader

Wasteland Masterlist

After talking with Mikey and Chifuyu, you get out of the health center as quickly as you can. You’re not sure what the two of them are going to say to the others to explain the reason why you’re leaving again, but right now what’s important is finding Baji and bringing him back.

You end up wandering around the nearby area, combing nearly every building and being rather thankful for your bullet-proof vest and gun for the number of weirdos still roaming the streets.

In a library close by, you find yourself becoming distracted by the rows and rows of books that have been emptied and tossed to the ground. So much for the education system. Everything’s really gone to shit and by the looks of it, there’s no going back.

As you step around the tattered and torn books lying on the ground, you notice one in particular that is familiar to you. Rashomon. The story of a poor man deciding whether to starve and die or steal to survive. From what you remember, the man watches another woman as she steals from dead bodies. He’s initially disgusted, but in the end, he learns that it is morally just to steal from someone in order to survive. And so, he robs the woman and disappears.

You aren’t sure whether you are disgusted or relieved to find the book. It is, in some ways, a bit of a weight off your shoulders. Other people have thought the same as you- that it is okay to kill for your own survival. You will literally die, after all, if you don’t. Just as how the poor man was sure to starve if he didn’t steal.

You end up chucking the book to the side and finding your way out of the library before you end up throwing up at the whole philosophical conversation you were creating with yourself in your head.

As you stand outside and look across the street, a small day school, you happen to notice a black shadow cross by in one of the windows. You aren’t sure if you’re being watched or what, but you’re going to have to find out.

You close in on the building and walk over to the broken window where you had seen the shadow. Quickly, you slip inside and search the classroom you’re now inside. You might’ve spoken a little too soon about the education system because none of these classrooms look touched at all.

You make your way out into the hallway and check in both directions before making your way around the corner. When you find yourself beside the office, you can see a figure on the other side of the frosted glass.

“Come out!” you shout to them. “You’re dead one way or another but if you make this easy on yourself then maybe I’ll make it a quick death!”

“You’d really kill an innocent girl like me,” a familiar voice calls out.

With narrowed eyes, you walk over to the office door and step inside. There, you see Senju’s dirty face on the other side.

“Jesus, you’re stalking me now?” you chuckle as you approach her. Senju smiles and pulls you into a hug.

“Well, actually, I think you’ve got that backwards. We’ve been here since yesterday,” she replies.

“We? So the others are here too? Damn, you guys are like nomads, huh?”

“You mean Wakasa?” she grins.

“I mean everyone. But Wakasa, too, yeah,” you shrug. “There’s something I wanted to talk to Yuzuha about as well.”

Just then, the office door opens up again, and in strolls Kokonoi and Inui. “Y/N?” Inui calls out to you. You smile softly as you look over at Kokonoi whose face is completely emotionless. The last time you saw him he was the one who convinced you to walk straight into the lions’ den.

“What’re you doing here?” he then asks.

“Don’t act like you missed me,” you tease, knowing the two of them could care less.

“Senju!” you hear Yuzuha’s voice call from far away while multiple sets of footsteps approach. “We checked out that library like you wanted but nobody was in there. Damn was that place a mess.”

Then, the three of them step inside- face to face with you. Akashi. The man who first saved your life in this messed up world. Wakasa. The annoying salesman from your previous life who you can’t deny your attraction towards. And Yuzuha. The kind-hearted woman whose brother you recently led into battle against Kisaki and Hanma.

The three of them look at you with shock in their eyes and all you can do is gulp dryly. You have no idea what to say to any of them nor any clue how to say it.

“What’re you doing here?” Wakasa breaks the silence with his half-closed eyes as though he could care less that you’re back. “Gonna lead us to those friends of yours or ditch us again?”

“What’re you-“

“Y/N,” Senju whispers, “last time you were here you told us about those friends of yours, the Tayaki Fighters, and about how they’ve been able to lay low for the most part. We wanted to join them, but you ended up leaving instead. Why?”

You look over at Kokonoi who continues to keep his mouth shut. You know the two of you could both destroy each other’s reputation in the group, which is most likely why he hasn’t said anything about the amusement park to the others.

"I joined a group that inevitably I could not stay with forever. And so now I'm looking for my good friend, Baji, who has gone missing, trying to correct my mistakes like leaving all of you without an explanation," you half lie.

"Oh please that's such a load of bull," Wakasa rolls his eyes.

"Why would she lie?" Kokonoi shrugs. To your surprise, he's actually defending you. 

"She wasn't actually looking for us. Don't go getting your hopes up that-"

"Right, 'cause she was looking for her friend. She's got a life outside of you, Wakasa," Kokonoi continues.

"Woah, okay, can you two not do that right now?" Yuzuha rolls her eyes. "Y/N, who is your friend that you're looking for? Maybe we've seen him."

"If we did he'd be dead," Wakasa mumbles under his breath.

You begin to describe Baji to the others, giving them as much detail as you can. "Well, while I do think you've got some explaining to do, Y/N, we'll help you find your friend. However, in the meantime, you can begin to make it up to us by helping out around here while you're not looking for your friend, okay?" Senju then speaks up.

"You're okay with me staying?"

"It'll take way less time to find your friend with more of us looking. Besides, you said you wanted to talk to Yuzuha about something too, right?" she shrugs.

"Yeah," you nod. "Yuzuha, do you have a sec?"

"Sure," she replies before walking toward the door. You glance over at Kokonoi as you follow her, watching as his eyes stay glued to yours until you disappear outside of the room. "What'd you want to talk about?"

"Do you have any family members still out there that you know of?" you ask her. "Siblings maybe?"

"Uh, well I had two brothers but god knows what happened to them," she groans.

"Actually, I think I've seen both of them," you break the news to her quietly.

"Hakkai and Taiju?! Really?! Where?!" she beams excitedly. However, you know better than to give her the death trap of walking into the amusement park and all Senju and the others want is to team up with the two groups already at the health center, but your pretty sure Mikey doesn't want any more people around.

"I couldn't say where they are now... I just saw them in passing. Taiju isn't really one I wanted to stay around for very long," you answer with both a lie and a truth.

"Well, as long as they're both alright. They're not together, are they? Damn, Taiju was always such a dick to Hakkai," she shakes her head as she leans her back against the frosted glass wall behind her.

"No," you reply honestly, "they're not. And they were both fine when I last saw them."

"If you ever see Hakkai again, tell him where I am, okay? I'd do anything to see my brother again," she sighs.

Just then, you hear a knock on the wall nearby and when you look over, you see Kokonoi standing there. "Mind if I steal Y/N for a sec?"

"What, are you going to interrogate her now? Shit, can't the poor girl have some peace around you sharks?" Yuzuha rolls her eyes.

"It's okay, Yuzuha," you smile softly. "Kokonoi, can we talk outside?"

Wasteland Masterlist

Taglist: @pikagirl2001330 @romaka344

[milktei]

I would love to see your take on a cafe au! preferably with a genshin man heheh

People Watching

Diluc Ragnvindr x gn!Reader

Genre: Based off of People Watching by Conan Gray, Modern AU, Cafe AU, FLUFF (can u believe it?

Warnings: none

Requests: Open!

Also posted on ao3

a/n: my first request so exciting! Ahhhh let me tell you anon i was kicking my feet all giddily while writing this. Hopefully this meets you expectations! Sorry if it’s a little jumpy(?). I was listening to music while thinking of this au so I took the idea and ran with it.

Song fics aren’t usually my thing ironically (don’t get me started in one’s with lyrics between the paragraphs) but I was ✨inspired✨ and integrated the song into the framework of what I already had :). Also I’m a sucker for soft and awkward Diluc he might be ooc to some but fight me I think he has a soft side.

Owning and working at a cafe meant that you got to know your regulars quite well as time went on.

Diluc knew that better than anyone.

Albedo is a chemistry major who takes alarming amount of espresso shots in his drinks. Lisa works at the library and likes milk in her tea. If he sees Thoma, he knows to prepare for a big order. His internal list could go on and on.

Working at a cafe also meant a plethora of couples would come and go, as cafes have always been popular places to go on dates. Asking someone if they wanted to grab a cup of coffee always seemed to be the easiest way to tell someone you wanted to spend time with them.

To Diluc, couples were more interesting to learn about. They would stay at his cafe for hours, and talk about their lives as if nobody else was around. Diluc knew them better than he let on.

The girl who laughs at her boyfriend’s joke to the point of tears, even if it wasn’t funny.

The couple with stars in their eyes, who still count their relationship by the month rather than the year.

49 months; over 4 years.

A teenage boy recites another’s complicated order off the top of his head with ease.

Another gushes to his friend about the reasons he loves his partner.

Of course they’re not all sweet

A woman in her late 20s smiles down sadly at the ring on her ring finger.

“No we’re not engaged, this is just a promise ring… hopefully soon though!”

A man grips his cup tighter in his hands.

“They said they wanted to take a break.”

Diluc was known to others as a dark, brooding, and emotionless man. Yet despite what the few people that knew him thought, deep down he yearned to feel that same love and onslaught of emotions he heard people gush about as he worked.

It could be frustrating sometimes, the way people teased him for being cold, or soulless.

Sometimes he just wanted to yell out into the world that he was in fact capable of feeling emotions. That he wanted to bring love back into his life after being depraved if it for so long.

That when he was young he dreamed of owning a typical home in the suburbs, even a family to call his own.

Diluc wanted the good and the bad parts of love, the kisses and the fights.

It was easier said than done.

There are parts to Diluc that are broken. He had been hurt by those close to him multiple times. He had dated in the past but it was never serious enough to evolve into something more.

Cutting someone out of his life was not nearly as hard as letting someone in.

Diluc decided to resort to simply people watching. An easy hobby to have when you work at a cafe. Making drinks by pure muscle memory whilst ease dropping and watching his regulars through his peripheral vision.

In a way, he was living through his customers vicariously. On slow days he would even find himself making up stories of them. There was only so much stuff to clean after all.

“I’ll get an iced matcha latte please.”

Diluc was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of your voice. You were new, a student he guessed from the bag on your back.

“What size?” Diluc managed to ask before the pause in the exchange got awkward.

You hummed thoughtfully, “just a medium please,” you turned your head to the pastries in the display case and Diluc could see excitement in your face when you saw the freshly made shortbread cookies.

“and three of those please.” you pointed.

The corner of Diluc’s mouth twitched ever so slightly as he punched in your order “can I get a name for your order?”

“y/n”

Diluc gave you your total and tried not to pay any attention to your hand brushing his as you handed him your cash. He nodded in gratitude when you immediately dropped your change into the tip jar without a second thought.

“Oh, will that be for here or to go?” diluc asked suddenly. It was unlike him to forget a part of his usual script, he wouldn’t have needed to ask for your name if he already knew you were staying. Still a part of him was glad he had learnt it.

You looked out at the cafe and smiled “I’ll stay.”

“Great, I’ll get everything out to you in just a moment. Please, feel free to sit anywhere you’d like.”

You gave him another sweet smile and walked over to a table by the window. A popular spot usually taken by couples and avoided by groups due to it only having two chairs.

as Diluc made your drink, he watched as you pulled a laptop and notebook from your bag. Your pencil case, and earbuds came next, and slowly you began to adjust everything to become your perfect study space.

After placing the cookies onto a plate then onto a tray that already held your finished drink, Diluc walked to your table and gently placed it down.

“For you y/n”

You looked up at Him and quickly moved your belongings so he had room to place down the tray. “thank you.”

Diluc made his way back to behind the counter and grinned when he saw, through his peripheral vision, your eyes widen in amazement as you tasted your drink. Taking it as a small success, Diluc happily began cleaning the supplies he had used.

-

You came to the cafe often after your initial visit

You always came to the cafe alone, so instead of overhearing what was going on in your life like he usually would, Diluc found himself getting to know you through your habits, and what little small talk was made as you paid.

You often came to the cafe after class to study, and took public transit to get around.

You shuffled your music but hit skip until the right song came on.

You chewed your straw as you read, and flipped your pencil as you thought.

I never knew Diluc could be such a creep. He heard a certain voice tease, but Diluc couldn’t help that he simply found himself enamoured with you without caution.

“See you tomorrow Diluc!” Charles waved as he left the cafe at the end of his shift. Diluc wordlessly waved back as he brushed down the espresso machine.

He glanced up at the large windows of the cafe and frowned at the darkening sky. Despite what the weather forecast had said in the morning, it seemed like it was about to start pouring any moment.

His suspicion was confirmed the moment he heard the beginnings of rainfall tapping on the glass.

He looked over at you. In your usual spot, seemingly in your own world as you typed away at your laptop.

“I don’t suppose you brought an umbrella with you?”

He had spoken without thinking, mentally scolding himself as you jumped and broke away from your studying mindset.

You wordlessly looked outside and he saw your shoulders droop ever so slightly. You turned to him and sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck.

“I didn’t. Are you closing now?”

You thought he was kicking you out. He mentally hit himself.

“No no I was just wondering since it seems to be coming down quite hard. You’re welcome to stay and wait it out for as long as you’d like.” Diluc had rushed the last sentence, nearly desperate to get the words out. Heat creeped to his face from embarrassment and he prayed to the archons that you couldn’t see.

You smiled at him “Thank you Diluc, hopefully it won’t take too long for the rain to let up.”

Diluc had to force himself not to melt on the spot as you said his name, he nodded and cleared his throat, turning around to busy himself with work and not embarrass himself any further.

As he wiped the counter yet again, his hand brushed up against a container of cocoa powder, Diluc paused. He looked over his shoulder and saw you slowly begin typing again.

He didn’t want to bother you again… But a sudden wave of confidence was slowly rising in him, and if he didn’t do anything now, he was certain he never would.

-

A steaming mug was placed down gently beside your laptop.

Your typing came to a stop again and your stared at the mug before slowly turning to your gaze to the redhead standing at your table, giving him a look urging him to explain.

“I always thought that hot chocolate was perfect to enjoy during this type of weather.” Diluc said as he smiled nervously.

“Oh! Thank you.” you said in shock, there was a pause before you reached into you bag in search of your wallet.

Diluc waved his hands, “there’s no need, really, it’s on the house.”

You blinked in surprise “Thank you again Diluc you didn’t have to.”

There was an another longer lapse in the conversation, you stared at the empty chair across from you.

“Would you like to join me? You can make yourself a cup, I’ll wait for you.” You felt your heart race as the weight of your impulsive worlds registered in your mind, “O-of course you don’t have to! I’m sure your busy so only if you want-“

“That sounds lovely.”

You nearly sighed in relief as Diluc stopped you from rambling even further and you smiled sheepishly at him as he quickly made his way back to the counter and quickly made his drink. In the mean time you busied yourself with putting away all your school supplies.

You were finishing zipping up your bag, Diluc had made his way back the table. As he sat down, that is when you noticed that he had taken off his apron.

Diluc himself was thinking about how strange it was to be sitting in a spot he usually watched from afar.

You sat back in your seat and grabbed your mug, Diluc did the same, and it was silent save for the rain as you two sipped at your drinks.

“So,” you started before clearing your throat “besides giving customers free drinks is there any else you do on slow days like this?”

You took another sip of your drink and Diluc smiled at the sight of you looking down at it as if there were sparkles in you eyes, the way you did when you tasted something you deemed particularly delicious.

“This happens to be a special case.” your eyes widened slightly and Diluc had to restrain himself from outwardly celebrating at the sight of your visibly flustered face. Perhaps this was a good idea after all.

“There’s not a whole lot to do besides cleaning and making sure my machines aren’t broken, but I’ve picked up some hobbies.” Diluc continued, finally answering your question.

You placed down your cup, “Such as?”

“People watching.”

[overflowing-with-words]

the demons under our paths | lloyd g., cole b.

Lloyd tries to stop his father from leaving, but the Tornado of Creation leaves him too drained of energy. Cole is there after, though. Post March Of The Oni main events.

A/N: we're at day 6 of summer of whump! I think I'm doing pretty okay so far, yay!

• • •

When Lloyd wakes up, his first thought is pain.

Pain filling his chest, reaching claws into his veins, tearing his soul from piece to piece. Bright blue eyes fill his vision, and there's a collective gasp through the courtyard — at least, he thinks he's in the courtyard. The last few memories he gathers are dizzy, wisps of a tornado and powers and dark swirling shadows and his dad—

He draws in a ragged wheeze, chest feeling like it's rattling apart as he breathes.

"Dad?" he coughs, and makes a valiant effort to sit up, falling back to the ground almost immediately.

"No, no, Lloyd, don't get up, you're hurt." Cole tells him quietly, and grabs his hand trying to push him upright. Lloyd shakes his head, gasping for another lungful of oxygen.

"Dad." He whispers, and Cole's gaze softens, melting into regret. His eyes flicker up to another figure in the background, and Lloyd takes the chance to shove himself upright, biting down his lip to keep the cries of pain from escaping. The metallic taste of iron fills his mouth, and he swallows down bitterly.

No. He can't give it up now.

He glances the courtyard, latching onto a dark disappearing person at the gates.

Garmadon.

A rough stumble sends him tumbling towards the ground, and Cole barely catches on his shoulder, hauling him up gently. He leans against the earth ninja, wishing his legs would hold him steady.

"Lloyd, come on, he's not—"

"You're hurt, just—"

"Cole, get him into the med room—"

He ignores the frantic whispers of his family behind him, biting his lip. It felt like someone poured molten lava into his bones, twisting and burning and hurting with every movement he makes.

"Please stay." Lloyd whispers. He's fought too hard to get his father back, and letting him slip away now, would just hurt too much to bear.

Garmadon looks back over his shoulder, eyes filled with cold fire.

He turns and leaves without a word, and Lloyd thinks watching him walk away silently is so much worst than the sharp cutting insults he always throws, or the departures filled with shouting and threats and hate.

Those were something. Something he could hang on to, something he could use to convince himself that his father still remembered him.

But this? This was just empty, cold, quiet, ignorance.

"Please? Dad!" Lloyd screams at him, disappearing into the thick clouds, and his voice breaks into a dry sob. Cole catches him when he falls again, collapsing as the last of his energy drained from him, trembling with sobs and cries and broken sentences. He carries him back to the monastery without a word.

The earth ninja is all too familiar with the pain of being abandoned by a parent, and knows the pain of betrayal can't be fixed with a few sweet whispered nothings.

So he sits by the cold white bed, tucking in a blanket around his fragile frame, and waits.

• • •

Lloyd wakes up for the second time that day, and his first thought is again pain.

Not the aching kind, though. Not the physical kind that sears your flesh and bones, but the kind that sinks into your chests and sews itself into your memories, bit by bit.

He remembers Garmadon's quiet emotionless gaze, and he remembers the last of his father disappearing within the fog.

"Lloyd?" Cole peers down at him, deep brown eyes filled with worry. "You okay?"

"I feel great." Lloyd tells him blankly, and Cole gives a small smile.

"Yeah, no, it was a pretty tough fight out there. It was touch and go with you, for a while. Nearly gave Zane a heart attack." He says wryly, and Lloyd gives a small groan, nose wrinkling.

"You can't blame me for that, I can't control my dying—" He wheezes, and Cole frowns, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Don't laugh, you sound like a seagull. A dying seagull. "

"You say that like you're not trying to make me laugh—" Lloyd snorts, and Cole grins.

"Caught." Cole says lightly, his want for the green ninja to laugh rising slightly above his need for him to be okay for a minute. His gaze catches on a pattern of bruises, rained down across Lloyd's side, and he can't stop a wince of sympathy from escaping. The green ninja is still smaller than most of them, pale figure swallowed by thick sheets.

"Geez, Cole. Give an injured child a break," he huffs, catching the direction he's looking in, and stuffs his arm back into the blanket.

"I remember him," Lloyd says wistfully, voice soft. "But Garmadon's not like that anymore, is he?"

"I know it sounds odd, but, sometimes people do stupid things when they try to protect others." Cole fidgets with the duvet quietly, and Lloyd stares at the ceiling, blinking back hot tears as he tries to register it in his head.

He knows that. He's done that, far too many times.

But he hated being protected, now more than ever. Hates feeling like a burden, like something to be taken care of, someone who can't fight for themselves.

Cole takes his hand quietly, giving it a small reassuring squeeze.

"It's gonna be okay." He tells the teen, and means it.

He's gone through too many rocky and painful paths of healing, and he's ready to lead Lloyd through this one, even if it's filled with stumbles and undying demons.

Lloyd looks up at him, gaze glassy with unshed tears, and thinks it just might.

jeu

s

[heyyyharry]

Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')

(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

Read part 1 here

.

.

.

“What the fuck is this?”

Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.

He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”

“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”

Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.

It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.

“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Listen to the song.”

“Baby.”

“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not.”

“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”

“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.

“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.

Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.

Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.

Car rides down Malibu

Strawberry ice cream

One spoon for two…

.

.

.

“Are we there yet?”

“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.

Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.

“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.

“Ahh, brain freeze!”

“But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.

Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.

Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.

“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.

“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”

“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.

.

.

.

“They went to Miami last week.”

Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.

“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”

“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”

“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?

It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.

“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”

Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.

The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.

“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.

“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.

Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.

“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”

“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.

Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.

She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.

Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.

“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.

“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”

Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.

That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.

“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.

“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”

.

.

.

Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.

They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.

Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.

His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.

He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.

At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.

“Hi. How are you?” he said.

Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.

But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”

“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For speaking out about it.”

“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”

They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.

“Look, Y/N, I—”

Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”

Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”

Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.

[pro-fangirls-unsocial-life]

Goodbye.

A/N: Hello Everyone! Its been a while since I've posted but I have finally gotten out of my writing slump! It's good to be back and I hope you enjoy this short little angst fest to kick off my return. And, thank you so much to @captainrexisboo beta reading this for me!

Length: ~700 words

Warnings: ANGST, death, mentions of dead bodies, talk of wanting to die, Rex is really going through it

Rex sank to his knees before Jesse’s grave, his face emotionless as he stared far beyond the graveyard that was covered in smoke. “Was it all worth it?” he asked the empty air in front of him. “If all we were meant for was to be pawns to be thrown away, then why were we made to care? Why were we made to be alive? Why weren’t we just droids?” He paused, looking down at the raised dirt just in front of his knees.

“We might as well have been. Sent to our deaths without a second thought. Produced in mass quantities and given a number to keep track of how much someone was to pay for us. Treated as if everything else in the galaxy was more important. Hell… Even General Skywalker cared more about his R2 unit than he did my brothers that died recovering it.” He clenched his fist, his eyes closing as he felt another wave of tears coming, streaking down the now dry paths on his face from his grieving sobs when he dug out every single body from the wreckage of the crashed venator.

“Why?” His voice broke on the word, catching in his throat as he tried to contain his grief once again, knowing that the effort would be meaningless. “Why was I chosen to be left alive? Why was our existence nothing but pain?” He looked back up at Jesse’s helmet, his soul nearly breaking entirely at seeing the blood on the side and remembering the sight of his brother lying dead in the sand. “Jesse!” he cried, hating the reflection of himself that he saw in the visor. “I’m so sorry!” He keeled over, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes as his forehead came to rest on the dirt of Jesse’s grave. “It’s all my fault! I did this to you!” He gasped in breaths, nearly choking on the dust that came with it but not having enough will to care. “If I had just believed Fives! If I had just listened! You would still be alive! You all would!”

He threw his head back, looking up into the sky and letting out a guttural scream, one that was filled with torture and agony and regret. He didn’t care if Ahsoka saw. He didn’t care about anything. How could he? Everything was gone.

“Why couldn’t you let me die!” He collapsed back down onto the ground, once again gathering the dirt in his fists.

It must have been hours before he finally moved again, sitting back on his heels with a stiff back and a raw throat. All the tears he had to shed were long gone, soaked into the dusty earth that surrounded him. It was dark then, the stars looking down on his sorrow and reflecting light off of the visors that were still intact just to remind him once again, that he had failed.

He stood, letting the dirt fall back to the ground and fly off into the wind. His whole frame slumped with exhaustion, finally giving up any hope that some merciful force might come and strike him down where he stood. The man he was is gone. Only a broken memory of him still exists.

He bowed his head to the graves, closing his eyes as he slowly let out a breath. It was cold out now and his breath appeared in front of his face as he regarded his brothers one last time. “I’m sorry…” he croaked out, his lip quivering as he struggled to compose himself. “I’m sorry that we never got to live, vod…”

He opened his eyes, straightening his posture and taking one last look: saying one last goodbye. “You were the best men I will ever know… I’m just… so sorry that I failed you… And that we have to say… goodbye.”

He forced himself to turn away then, knowing that if he didn’t do it now, he never would. He took one step. And then another. Each one carrying him further from the people he loved the most and the ones that he would never see again. But that is what they were made for.

To die.

Tag List: @snippy-tano @writer1 @simping-for-fives @just-some-girl-92 @lightning-wolffe @halzore

@morganas-pendragons @marvel-starwars-nerd @ct7567329 @a-dorin @vesperstalksclones @fuckyeahbeskar @kaorikoizumi @rowansparrow

[buckysbabygorl]

A Stitch in Time (Part 3)

Summary: After an amazing scientific discovery, Y/N is torn...

Word Count: 6.8k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Peggy wiped away the falling tears… she couldn’t face Y/N like this. One of them had to be strong; and with the state Y/N was in… she knew it was her burden to bear. Though she tried to reinforce herself to feel the way she thought; it didn’t hold as she came face to face with the young girl. She knew. She saw it immediately in her face. Something was wrong. “Wh--,” she started, her voice going shrill, “Where is he?” Peggy stepped to her slowly, “Y/N--” “No. No--where is he? Where is he?!” “Y/N you should sit down.” “NO! No I’m not sitting down and you’re not--you’re not telling me--where is he?!” “Y/N, he didn’t make it. The plane crashed into the ocean. He-” Y/N whipped a coffee cup from the nearby desk across the room, the ceramic shattering against the wall and falling to the tile below. “He’s not dead! Fucking find him--what kind of agent are you goddamnit--” Peggy’s hand stung against her cheek. She felt the heat of a hand print remain on her face; the silence deafening in the room after the echo of the smack. Peggy’s face coated with instant regret, her own hands raising to cover her distraught visage. She felt the tears prick her eyes as Y/N stood shocked. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--” “It’s okay.” the young girl said. Looking at Y/N’s emotionless face, Peggy began to cry. She was losing herself, her composure--who was she now? Peggy didn’t know it then, but in hindsight she could see that was when the change began in Y/N. This was the point where Y/N became someone different; hardened, calloused. Cynical. Gone was the young girl from Brooklyn, heart on her sleeve and naive with love. Open arms became closed fists. Later Dugan would say she died with those boys… they lost all three of them that day. “It’s alright.” The calm reassurance surprised them both, and Y/N took Peggy into her arms. “I’m sorry Peggy.” It wasn’t only for the harsh words, but for the loss Y/N knew she was taking on selfishly, Peggy had lost someone too… ~ That’s how it felt now; a slap to the face and a cold wave of inescapable emotion running through her body.

She felt faint, panicked.

She stumbled pack against the hallway wall; the news of the intruders had trickled through the base and now the soldiers began to run around her in a frenzy. It passed her by.

Steve, that was Steve.

She ran a hand through her already disheveled hair, coffee cup tumbling out of her hands as she slunk down the cool wall. It stained the floor in a puddle at her feet; she didn’t care.

She felt like screaming. She wasn’t crazy, her senses could be trusted.

That was Steve.

“Y/N! Y/N?”

She was knocked back to the present, watching as the chaos ensued around her. She whipped her head in the direction of the call; watching as Hank approached her, looking distraught.

“Y/N,” He said as crouched to her side, “Are you okay?”

“Hank, what the hell is going on?” She asked.

He hesitated as he looked around; seeming torn and the action around them. “Come with me.”

“What? No, I have to find Peggy. I have to--”

“Y/N, you need to come with me. I’ll explain when Stark’s here.”

“Stark? Seriously, what's going on?”

He pulled her to her feet, ushering her down the hallway.

“It’s the quantum radar; something’s thrown my measurements off the charts. And I’m guessing it’s because of whoever's here…”

He trailed off; he’d heard of the security breach, it was everywhere by now, “Something’s here that shouldn’t be. And we need to find out what.”

~

Stark angrily adjusted his tie as he weaved through the hallways; Maria was going to kill him. He’d just left, just left… and after a desperate call from base he was forced to turn back around to quiet whatever hell had broken loose.

He checked his watch, nearly 6.

Yeah, Maria was going to absolutely kill him.

He startled Hank and Y/N as he stormed into Pym’s lab.

“Damn it Hank, this better be good. Tell me what the hell is going on here.”

Y/N shook her head, she was eager to know the same thing. She was still processing what she’d seen… maybe she had been going crazy. She couldn’t possibly vocalize what she’d seen; they’d write her off immediately. Then again it was Hank and Stark; they’d seen their fill of crazy and unexplainable shit. She’d bring it up later; Hank was bursting at the seams. That could wait. “Do you two know what carbon dating is?”

The two shared a look; of course they had. What did that have to do with anything?

Upon seeing their annoyed looks of confusion; Hank elaborated.

“Alright, well--it’s hard to explain but, with quantum dating and measuring levels of quantum energy I can do the same thing. That is--uh--measure the levels of it and trace back--”

“--Get to the point Hank.”

“Alright, alright.” He stepped quickly to his computer, hands zooming over his keyboard. “Someone called me before the security breach, saying that some soldiers were--it doesn’t matter.”

He typed a bit more, pulling up data neither of the laymans could understand.

“What are we looking at here?” Y/N asked.

Pym rubbed his face, shocked and amazed at what he was seeing.

“Someone broke into my lab when I was gone; they took my serum. When I got back the radar was going crazy; there were two major spikes, twenty minutes before the breach and about ten minutes ago.”

Stark’s brows pulled; “What’s that have to do with quantum dating?”

Hank lowered himself to the computer again; “See this here?”

They squinted at the screen.

“That’s a date.” Y/N stated.

“Exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

Hank huffed, “That’s the date that the energy spikes radiate from.”

That wasn’t possible. That was not possible.

“Hank that’s 2023… that’s fifty years from now.” Y/N said.

“I know.”

“So what are you saying?” Stark asked.

Hank sat in a nearby chair, toying with the mouse of the computer. He couldn’t believe it himself; the meaning behind this was absurd. But it was real; this was proof.

“It means that something was here from 2023.”

Silence penetrated the room; sharp and heavy like the tip of a knife.

Y/N couldn’t breathe. Could that mean--

“Steve.”

The two men looked at her, and suddenly she was livid.

“Hank it’s him, it’s Steve Rogers. Steve was here--I saw him I swear--”

“Whoa, whoa.” Stark said, hands flared out as a subconscious way to silence the crazy. “What are you talking about?”

“Steve Rogers, I saw him. Right before you found me, Hank.”

Stark scoffed, “You’re kidding, Y/N. First Hank and this time bandit bullshit--”

“--watch it.” Hank warned.

“No! I’m serious’ can you two hear yourselves right now? You’re saying your computer traced energy from fifty years in the future; and you’re saying--” He pointed at Y/N, “--you saw a dead soldier walking the halls of this place. This is goddamn insane.”

“Howard,” Y/N said, “After all the years you’ve worked here; all the things you’ve seen, can you really say there’s no chance that some of what we’re saying might be true?”

He shook his head, he’d seriously turned back around for this?

“No, Y/N. I can’t, because now you’re talking about some weird sci-fi crap that holds no merit. We’re scientists. This isn’t science; this is ludacris.”

Pym’s face was flushed, his own colleague doubting his work after countless times he's proven himself right. He wouldn’t stand for it.

“This is science. I’m not making shit up here Howard; I’m looking at data that decades of research has gone into. This technology, this work is my life. I’m not making a mistake; I know what I’m seeing.”

Stark sighed, rubbing the facial hair on his cheek. “You’re sure?”

“I’d bet my career on it.” Pym said.

Stark looked to Y/N then; “But Steve Rogers?”

She leaned back in her chair, staring frustrated at the ceiling.

“I know it’s crazy; I know it’s crazy. But it was him guys, I’d know that face anywhere.”

He couldn’t argue with the surety in her voice; he’d worked with Y/N for years. That woman was rational, intelligent, collected… she’d never lied to him or led him astray. Not once.

“So what you’re saying is--” Stark started, leaning back against the cold, metal table of a lab bench, “Is that Steve Rogers somehow alive in 2023, and now has the capability to travel through time?”

“Yes,” Pym started, “But with the help of my work. For some reason, he needed to be here to take whatever I was working on, and get back to where he came from.”

“That’s a pretty big leap,” Y/N said.

“But it’s not without reason; it’s a valid hypothesis.” Hank argued.

Y/N knew he was right; nothing made sense right now, yet from what they could gather it seemed to be the only logical conclusion.

“So,” she started, “What do we do with this?”

“What do we do with it?” Stark asked in disbelief, “Everything Y/N.”

The mass weight of this discovery was finally hitting him: this was beyond anything imaginable. Decades ago he dreamed of flying cars, automatic toasters, silly things in comparison to this. Hank was no different; his delving into the quantum realm… he knew it would amount to great things. But nothing as immense as this. Time jumping with the Pym particles? It was beyond him.

The two men began chattering excitedly, planning the next step. Y/N wasn’t.

“Slow down,” she said, “I get that this is big for us--this whole foundation, but can we think about this for a second?”

“What’s there to think about?” Hank asked, “This could further science by decades.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, “Look, this discovery has existed for minutes. This needs further experimentation, a little more thought. Yes we’re certain we know what it is, but can we at least have a discussion about consequences before we dive in?”

Howard scoffed, “Centuries of advancement, and you’re scared to dip your toes in the water.”

The condescension in his voice couldn’t be missed; scared. It felt like disgust coming from Howard, ‘how dare you’ he might as well have said.

“Yes, Howard. Scared. I’m concerned. We just saw a man come back from the dead; don’t you want to know how that is even a possibility? What if Steve is alive right now and we don’t even know it? Isn’t that more important?”

Hank looked between the two; he felt the tension bubbling in the room, sweat forming on his collar from an imaginary heat.  

Howard thought of the big picture; he was an idea factory, a dreamer. Y/N was rational, level headed. The right now plan was the agenda.

But when Howard got opposed; shit got personal.

“”Listen to yourself,” Stark said, “What we have here… is beyond anything anyone in our generation has even seen before. Zola and Schmidt couldn’t even reach to scratch at this surface, and you’re worried about finding Rogers right now?”

“Are you telling me you’re not?”

“He’s fine! He came back from the future for Christ’s sake--what, are you scared he’s out there waiting to give you a time out for your last blow up?”

Hank felt that heat again, the words struck a chord as soon as they came out of Stark’s mouth. Hank didn’t know what Stark meant; but from the look on her face, he knew Y/N did.

“The hell did you just say?” Y/N snarled.

You could almost hear her teeth crack as they clenched, rage curling her fingers to dig into the skin of her palms. Hank knew these were dangerous words; whatever they meant.

But Howard was irate, consumed at the thought of chasing the unknown and unfound. He cared about Rogers, he cared about her, but a part of his brain shoved those feelings aside. He couldn’t register the look in her eyes; and he couldn’t predict the regret his words would cause as soon as he said them.

“Oh come on, let’s stop pretending that that’s not actually what you’re worried about. You want to waste your time finding Steve now, wherever the hell he is, so you don’t have to deal with what’s in front of you. You were a kid on a battlefield, out of your wits, and you said shit you wish you could take back. You shouldn’t have been there--you weren’t strong enough to handle that situation and you had a tantrum. You can’t change the past, so you might as well move the hell forward.”

And like that, his words catapulted her back to memories she was desperate to forget.

~ The troop returned from the train mission late at night.

The men had stayed relatively quiet. When they lost someone, it was common for them to close off into themselves. What was there to say? Eyes bloodshot and brimmed with tears, Steve was the last to leave the truck. It was no surprise that Y/N was waiting for them at the gate, she always was. She wasted no time in running to him, and hugging him tightly. “Oh my god, I was so worried about you Stevie.” She continued to fret as she patted him down, checking for any wounds. “You’re all here, in one piece!” She laughed softly, “I still can’t get used to--” She looked over his face, noticing his usual light and vigor was gone. Gone wasn’t even the right word… it hadn’t disappeared, or vanished. It was taken, drained, ripped away from him. He looked like a ghost. “Steve, what's wrong?” Silence made her uneasy. She looked at the soldiers passing them, then over Steve’s shoulder at the truck. She noticed. Her smile faded. “Where’s Bucky?” The name made Steve’s breath catch in his throat, a shaky rise of his shoulders as he inhaled. “Y/N…” She stepped back. “Steve.” She recognized the look in his eyes; years ago by a freshly buried grave of his mother. At her bedside while she mourned her father, his tears accompanying hers in shared sorrow. It was the eyes of loss. No. “We were on the train.” His jaw hitched as he searched for words, his mouth dry as he swallowed. “They were shooting at us, he hid. He was hanging on to the car door.” He couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t look anywhere but him. “I tried.” He reached for her, like he was reaching for Bucky. “I tried Y/N, I tried. But I couldn’t--I couldn't reach him.” His hand gripped tightly at the buttons of her shirt. “He fell.” Snow fell softly around them, and the base seemed to fall quiet. Her hand smacked his away. His head lifted at the contact, and he realized he couldn’t recognize the woman in front of him. He didn’t know then how that face would haunt his memories for years to come. Her fists pounded against his chest. Steve stepped back as her pummels came, her voice a scream. “You were supposed to keep him safe, he’s not like you. He can’t fucking--he’s not invincible. He’s not some goddamn science freak. You don’t get hurt. You let him--you selfish bastard.” “Y/N, please.” Steve’s lip trembled, his eyes begging. Please understand. “How dare you, he’s gone. He’s gone and it’s your fault.” Her palm stung against his face. “I hate you. I fucking hate you Steve.” Suddenly Dugan peeled her off, they hadn’t even noticed he’d stood back in horror… watching them. He hauled her away screaming and crying, while Steve stood in the falling snow. Watching frozen as he lost both of his best friends in a matter of hours.

~

It had been the last time they saw each other before he went into the ice.

It washed over sickeningly slow; creeping through her body like winter frost. Seeing Steve, the regret in painful nostalgia, the sting of Howard’s words.

She had to remind herself to breathe.

She wasn’t crying, she wasn’t angry. There was no pounding heart or shaky breaths. Just stillness.

In seeing that calm, that unsettling reserve, Howard had never felt more guilty.

He wanted her to scream, he wanted her to tell him off. That he was a jackass, he’d gone too far. Because he had. He wanted to take it back more than anything.

But there wasn’t any of that.

“I should go.”

Neither of the men tried to stop her.

~

Y/N wasn’t a fan of driving at night. Mostly due to the fact that her route home consisted of hidden backroads to keep SHIELD projects and agents as off the radar as possible, the dirt roads had sparse lighting and shit levelling. On a late night, it was an accident waiting to happen.

Tonight she didn’t care; her mind was closed off from taking in her surroundings. Howard’s words had rendered her blank, she didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Other than the aching and disgusting feeling that Howard, in some way, was right.

The radio didn’t help, so she drove in silence until she arrived at her apartment.

The stairs were a million miles long.

She kicked off her heels as she perched her legs up on the coffee table, clicking the remote as she settled into her sulking position.

She was miserable.

And angry.

Two very different emotions, Y/N had learned. But they did pair beautifully together.

Of course, there was nothing that hit as good as Doris Day and a bottle of bourbon.

She had it tucked beside the couch for emergencies like this. She handled it with purpose, at this point she didn’t know what else could make her feel better.

She tried zoning in on the happy show, Doris smiling brightly and laughing with ease.

Must be nice, she thought.

The plot was lost on Y/N as she threw back mouthful after mouthful, she’d finally given up when the credits rolled.

She leaned her head back against the cushion, a heavy sigh leaving her.

Howard was wrong.

She wasn’t scared of seeing Steve, she wasn’t trying to waste time.

She wanted to take back all she’d said, all she had done to him. She wanted him by her side.

It was the opposite; she wanted Steve now.

If Steve was out there; somehow still alive, oh god.

The desperation she felt forming inside of her was unbearable. She would tear apart cities, destroy mountains, carve Steve’s name into the earth if it meant finding him now. Alive.

She wanted Steve back now, at this moment. Not in some experimentation for decades, not in some futile attempt of bringing her whatever future mirage of Steve she’d seen.

She wanted her Steve back.

If they were going to spend all their time and resources on finding, whatever the hell they had discovered today, she would rather use it all to find the Steve of the present.

She battled with herself; the logic served that that would destroy everything of the present. However future Steve came to be, they couldn’t interfere with that. Something needed to stay constant for Steve to exist as he did; or didn’t exist.

“Fuck sakes,” she mumbled.

It was all so confusing. Her mind was racing in all directions; she just needed to get this out. On paper, hell even in conversation.

But the two she normally talked science with had pissed her off to no end tonight, the woman Y/N confided in for most things couldn’t be brought in the loop this soon, and…

Well, her two best friends were dead. Though one’s death status was now up for debate.

It was moments like this that it really hurt, not having her boys at her side.

Steve was grounding; stable. He broke down things for you, turned the question back on you so you gave yourself the advice. He was a common sense filter. And she needed that more than anything right now.

“C’mon Ace, you know what to do. Just spell it out for us.”

She smiled at the thought, a nickname reserved for special occasions when Steve wanted to emphasize just how dumb she was for a smart ass.

She liked that about Steve, he never made her feel like she bit off more than she could chew. He knew she was smart, he knew she was capable. He just had to remind her of that sometimes.

It seemed like him and Bucky were the only two that really saw the depth of her back then.

Then Y/N’s heart pulled in another way…

Bucky.

Her nostrils flared as the tears welled up in her eyes.

He would’ve held her tight, he would’ve ran all over town to do what needed to get done; anything to fix the problem. Anything to see her happy again.

He always made her feel like she had the world in the palm of her hands. And even if it wasn’t, it was hers for the taking. In his eyes, she could do anything she set her mind to.

He knew she could do it all on her own too; but what kind of man would he be if he wasn't doing everything in his power to give her the life she deserved?

She could feel his arms around her, lips pressed against her forehead as he mumbled against her skin.

“It’s alright Duckie, we’ll figure it out. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing…”

She choked back a sob with another swig of the bottle, the bitter taste bringing forward another memory.

She spat out the liquid onto her carpet, a dumb and loud laugh following it.

God, she was going crazy.

She never knew how they did it; but even in thought, those boys could take her from sad to happy in mere seconds.

The warm memory was welcome… needed even.

~ Damn that dumb Dottie, she thought, that stupid Vivian.

Y/N had been a frustrated mess since she’d seen them; she wished she’d never gone to the shop this late.

They always found a way to weasel under her skin; and of course they chose the sweet spot.

“Didn’t you hear honey? Your boys are taking us to the big boxing match tonight… such a shock you aren’t coming.”

She pulled the paper bag tighter into her chest.

“You know, I’ve always found it so…” Dottie chose her words carefully, “Cute how you follow those boys around. Like a little sister.”

The girls had chuckled to themselves. Dottie never meant nice words as a compliment; it was like a joke you were never in on, always the subject of…

“And your little pet name for him? Jimmy? I’ve never heard something so adorable.” Her words were laced with arsenic, “Like a grade school crush, just so innocent.”

So naive.

She hadn’t said it, but that’s how Y/N heard it.

She was so in her head, she hadn’t seen the man in front of her.

The bump was gentle, but enough to startle them both. “Oh! Sir, I’m so--”

Looking up and seeing the friendly face, her senses came to her.

“Stevie!”

She felt her spirits brighten, it was just the man she’d needed at a time like this.

He smiled at the realization that it was her, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

It had been another failed date for Steve Rogers, and he had intended to sulk alone. Maybe draw the Brooklyn street from their apartment… for the hundredth time in his book. Walking back, he’d never imagined running into her. “What are you doing here? I thought you n’ Jimmy were going to the fight tonight.” “Well…” Steve started, “We were. But Bucky ended up bringing a few gals along, said they were talking it up at the post office n’... thought a date would be fun. My partner wasn’t too keen on seeing me unfortunately.” Y/N grimaced, Vivian and Dottie.

He saw her face fall as he brought up a “date”, but quickly she snapped back up. Vicious girls. She thought, Vicious, vicious girls. Damn them, Stevie was dish and she believed that with every inch of her heart. He was kind, and smart, and honest, and as interesting as the starry night sky. All you had to do was get to know him. These girls never gave him a chance. And Jimmy… She felt angry as she thought of him. Jimmy was no help. “Well she’s a fool.” Y/n said, “In fact all girls are fools if they pass you up.” Steve scoffed, “You’re being sweet.” “I can still be truthful while bein’ sweet Stevie. Don’t go callin’ me a liar.” She waved with her free hand, motioning him to follow her. Steve smiled softly, he liked how Y/N teased. She never pitied him when he was down, only ever ushering him to pick himself back up. “I’d never.” He said, which he meant. “I don’t forgive the offenses you’ve laid on me tonight.” She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, walking arm in arm up the busy evening street. The motion caught a few eyes, this small block as nosy as it had ever been. Often Y/N and the notorious duo were the gossip of their little community, though Brooklyn was miles wide these people made it feel like a tiny town. “Oh no,” he teased, “How could I ever make it up to you?” Her smile was devilish as she looked at him. “Well the night’s still young! Can’t let it go to waste. Maybe you and I can have a date of our own.” Steve took a glance around, his smirk matching hers. “You sure that’s a wise idea?” Steve knew Y/N well enough to know it wasn’t a true date, he wouldn’t want that anyways. She was family to him; he saw her differently. But the town didn’t know that. “Why not?” She asked, her voice going low. “Everyone thinks we’re soon to be hitched anyways, on account of us being roommates n’ all.” Her eyes were devious as she whispered in his ear, a risky action on account of their audience. “Don’t you think we should actually give ‘em something worth talking about?” Though Steve was seen as a bit of a square around town,  there was a hidden hellion within him. Y/N knew it all too well, and had taken advantage many times. If the town was already talking, there wasn’t anything they could do to change their minds. Might as well do whatever the hell they wanted. Plus, even though it wasn’t really Buck’s fault, this potentially could itch that scratch for payback. “What did you have in mind?” He asked. She peeked over her shoulder, before she rolled down the edge of the crinkled paper bag. “Y/N!” He closed it quickly as she erupted in a fit of giggles “Are you crazy? That’s illegal.” She rolled her eyes, “Crazy is another word for fun! Besides, it’s not like we're gonna get caught.” Steve shook his head as they continued walking, how in the hell did the Brooklyn angel get moonshine?! “How’d you even get that?” She shrugged, “Market Marcus said he’d get me some as a favor for the flowers I grew for his Mama.” Y/N grew a small garden for some extra bucks on the side; and their neighbours were more than happy to spare a penny or two for fresh cut flowers, or the occasional vegetable. But in this case it likely wasn’t just for the flowers, Market Marcus had been sweet on Y/N for ages. “You’re out of your wits girl.” He said. She groaned as she swung in front of him, halting him in his step. “C’mon Stevie! Let’s have a good time; a couple of sips… some dancing. We grab a late bite to eat. It’ll be a gas.” Steve sighed. She made it so hard to say no.... And god would it be fun. Her brows raised as she watched Steve smile. “McGee’s is open ‘til midnight…” ~ Bucky could barely hear the round bell ringing over the men’s hooting and hollering. The two girls cheered and clapped as the fighters took their corners. Dottie looked up at Bucky, “Gosh this is amazing. Thanks for bringing us Bucky.” Bucky flashed a smile, “Anytime doll, every girl deserves a good night on the town.” Dottie blushed as she tucked away a loose curl. “Um..” She started, flustered. “Would you mind grabbin’ Viv and I a couple drinks? We’re awful thirsty.” He looked over the crowd, hoping to see Stevie somewhere in it. He guessed he’d left on account of Vivian being rather-- Bucky tried to think of a gentlemanly term. --Disinterested. But it couldn’t taking a quick runaround to find him. Grabbing drinks would give him a decent chance. “Sure thing doll, be back before the next bell.” He tapped under her chin gently, and suddenly Dottie was all smiles. She waved sweetly as he left the girls in their seats, weaving through the crowd of people. He stumbled slightly as a group of boys playfully roughoused, the man knocking Bucky nack a step. “Sorry pal,” the man said, “Wasn’t watching ya.” “S’alright,” Bucky started, before he recognized the man. “Sal!” He cheered, “Can’t believe the wife let you out for once.” Sal grinned at the joke, “Aw Bucky you know me, can’t tame this stallion.” Bucky laughed happily, clapping the man on the shoulder. “Good to see you buddy-- hey, you seen Steve around?” The man raised a brow at him, “He left a bit ago, Buck.” Bucky’s lip raised, shrugging a shoulder. “Ah figures, shoulda known--” The man wiped his lip before interrupting him. “Yeah, he’s out with your girl! Mister L/N’s daughter.” Bucky made a face. He must not have heard him right. “Y/N?” “Mhm,” Sal whistled slowly at the thought. “Boy did she grow up to be a pretty thing, huh? Wish I was in Rogers shoes right now, you know what I mea--” Something in Bucky's face told him to stop talking. Bucky’s jaw clenched, as his eyes flicked to the time on a far wall. It was well past midnight; if Steve and Y/N were still the talk at this time, that meant nothing but trouble. “Where are they?” He asked, his voice flat. Sal pulled at his collar; not keen on telling Barnes what he’d heard. “Last I heard… was uh--heading down to the docks. They stopped at McGee’s for dancin’... looked a bit buzzed leaving if I’m being truthful.” Bucky’s lip was tight, “Yeah?” Sal gulped. “Yessir, arm and arm. Guess they’re on a bender tonight.” He laughed awkwardly, desperately wanting to break the tension. “The boys and I were jokin’ that, uh--looking like that they’d end up hitched tomorrow. Funny huh?” Sal laughed again, but stopped. Bucky did not agree. Clearly. Barnes clapped Sal’s shoulder again, a little rougher this time. “Thanks Sal, I’ll see you around.” Bucky couldn’t leave the building fast enough, his mind so clouded with jealousy he’d forgotten all about Dottie and her drinks. ~ CLANG The two were stupid drunk; giggling loudly as Y/N raised her hand to throw another rock.

“Jeez, what the hell are we doing?” Steve asked, cheeks rosy from the drunkenness.

Y/N stumbled slightly, the overshot of raising her arm pulling her back. Steve caught her as she laughed.

“We’re having fun!”

She whipped the rock at the sign, another loud clang echoing in the empty harbour.

Which was how Bucky found the two.

“What in God’s name are you two doing?”

They both turned at the voice, immediately erupting in happy cries.

“Bucky!” Y/N yelled.

Bucky watched as the two clambered towards him; his arms crossed as they approached.

“It’s after hours; you two could get in a shit ton of trouble.”

“Agh!” Steve said, which wasn’t much of a response. Or much of anything really. He’d meant it to be playfully dismissive, but his clouded brain couldn’t articulate thought to action.

Bucky’s brows pulled, “I’m serious. Do you know how far your little bender has gotten in this town?”

Y/N placed a hand on his crossed arm, still laughing at some joke that was lost on them all.

“Bucky it’s fine!” She reassured. “Look, we're tryna scrape off the paint of the DANGER sign. Make it say “DANG”.” She giggled in an intoxicating way… Bucky hated himself for revelling at how her fingertips gripped his forearm. “DANG! Bucky…” She trailed off as she continued giggling, while Steve mimicked Bucky’s reprimanding stance. “C’mon Buck,” Steve drawled, “we’re just havin’ fun. Lighten up.”

Barnes scoffed at his friend, “Well if you’re telling me to lighten up then I know I'm a hardass.” The two laughed, and much to Bucky’s frustration, he found his reserve starting to dwindle.

He wanted to be mad at them, he wanted to lecture them on how stupid they had been tonight.

But Steve was happy, loose even. Which was rare.

And Y/N was…

Well.

Y/N was herself; bright and beaming. Pulling you in without trying, convincing you in a way only a siren could manage.

He hadn’t even realized she’d been holding the bottle this whole time.

She tipped the bottle to him, waving in slowly in front of his face.

“You know you want to.”

The words drawled slowly from her lips, like syrup drizzling from a bottle. Eyes with a slight glaze, smirk lazy. She batted her lashes unintentionally… Before he knew it he was reaching for the bottle. His other hand clasped gently around her wrist. He took the bottle without breaking eye contact, his face far too close to be gentlemanly. “Alright, but only if you promise to behave yourself.” “You know me Bucky,” she smiled, “always on my best behaviour.” Bucky felt the hair on his neck rise. Hell… “Y/N!” Steve suddenly shouted, “We need more huckin’ rocks. For that gosh-DANG sign.” She snorted, her attention now back on their previous, and very important, mission.

“We do! Bucky, put yourself to good use. Help find some rocks.” He sighed as he watched the two wander off down the dock, looking for loose stones. He felt like a big brother hauling two little siblings around town. Entertaining with rocks off all things. He obliged in following them, subconsciously sticking closer to Y/N as she searched. He’d never seen her this far gone before. Bucky hated to admit it; but he wished he had been here the whole night. Forgetting the fight, forgetting the girls… he wished he’d been having fun with this rambunctious lot. He couldn’t help but snarl as he thought of Sal’s words. He’d watched how Y/N had stumbled back into Steve’s arms; laughing and smiling like they were the light of each other’s worlds. Should’ve been me, he thought. Boozing' it up with his best girl and his best friend; being the talk of the town at this late hour. Her voice startled him. “Did ya have fun?” She asked innocently. Bucky paused as he kicked some broken box from his path, sipping at the bitter moonshine.

“I did, until I heard you two were causin’ trouble.”

It meant to come out as a tease, but it sounded like blatant jealousy. Y/N didn’t notice.

“You must have the wrong people Bucky, Steve and I would do no such thing.”

He had taken note of the accented syllable of his name, the common name he was referred to by people on the street. It felt sour coming from her.

“What’s with the ‘Bucky’ tonight?” He asked.

She looked up from the ground, swaying slightly. “How do you mean?”

He scoffed. “You’re--”

The noise made her stop. She turned to him too sharply, offended by being the subject of it. Her stare felt like a dare, calling him out on his anger. What could he possibly have to be mad about? He was the one...

They stayed like that for a moment, looking at each other with a dulled tension. Nothing was wrong… really. But it was. “You keep saying ‘Bucky’,” He started, “No ‘James’...”

She couldn’t keep herself from stopping him. “Well that’s your name isn’t it?” Now she sounded bitter, turning away to look for more stones. “Find any Steve?” She called out. “No luck!” He answered. Bucky looked up to check if he’d wandered too far, looking back when he saw he was safely crawling along the concrete harbour floor. “Hey,” Bucky’s voice was soft as he reached for her arm, turning her to face him. She faced him with a scowl. Bucky’s face was serious, and even Y/N in her drunken state could see he was genuinely hurt. She softened at his eyes. Those big blue eyes... “You always call me Jimmy. Or James. You rarely call me anything else… especially when it’s just us.” She looked down at her hands, her thumb gentle scraping at the other… She was being childish. And thinking back to Dottie’s words… she’d hated that in some weird way, she felt like she had proven her right. She wasn’t a kid, she was a grown woman. She didn’t need to prove that to anyone. But sometimes it felt like it. She wanted people to see her as strong, mature, an adult. When she was with these boys and the whole town was watching, it was hard to not to feel insignificant. But it really shouldn’t have mattered what they thought. The three had never cared before. She tried not to care. But when it came to Bucky… For some reason it was harder. “Well....” She wanted to say this right; she didn't want to hurt him. That was never what she wanted. She’d tried to do something right. “It’s just awfully intimate, isn’t it?” she said, looking up at him, “Calling you by something no one else does…” She thought of what the girls said about her, and about what anyone in this town ever might say about the two of them. “...I wouldn’t want to be messing somethin’ up for you. You’re, well you’re a grown man. Good man, a handsome man… and if there’s someone special out there for you…. It’d just be selfish of me, wouldn’t it?” He knew the pull of her lip into the slight pout was unintentional. But it moved him just the same. Be selfish, he thought, Be selfish all you want. Take any part of me you need, my first name, my last. Anything’s yours if you want it to be. But he didn’t say that. He couldn’t. “Well it’s no different than me calling you Duckie, is it?” She smiled, “No, I guess not.” He was right, there wasn’t any difference. But that meant everything; it meant exactly what she’d said it was. Intimacy… someone special calling you something no one else could. It was more than just a name. CLANG “I FOUND HUCKIN’ ROCKS!” At Steve’s objection, she turned and laughed. She pulled Bucky along with her towards their drunken friend. “Just don’t wanna be causin’ any more trouble than necessary.” She looked over her shoulder, eyes genuine. “I think you’ve failed at that doll.” She turned to shove him at the tease, stumbling as he took her arms and pulled her into him. His hold was strong, as if letting go would let her escape from him for forever. “You’re always gonna be special Y/N, no one else is taking that away.” She felt as he kissed the top of her head, leaning into his chest. “Damn right I’m special.” She whispered. Her hands travelled delicately along his back, and the same feeling he’d had when she waved the bottle in front of him came back. Goosebumps littered his body. Bucky shuddered. He blamed the cold. She snatched the bottle from his hand, giggling as she pulled from his arms. She laughed as she sauntered away, leaving Bucky smiling before he chased after her. “I’m especial-ly good at huckin’ these rocks!” She cried.

The whole night they chucked until the dented sign hung, barely within an inch of its life. Drinking, laughing, holding each other.

She thanked Steve for the best date of her life.

And at that moment: it didn’t matter what the town was saying, what Dottie had to say, it didn’t matter where Y/N was going in the future and it didn’t matter what would happen to the three. She would aways have her boys at her side, and they would always be the most important thing to each other. In the end they’d always have each other, they’d always be with each other til’ the end of the line.

~ She felt the emptiness of the apartment harder than she ever had before.

Y/N knew she couldn’t avoid this moment; the divine opportunity that was placed so perfectly in her hands.

You have to.

She stood from her spot, quickly grabbing her keys from the counter. Though far too drunk to drive, she was determined.

She flicked the lights off and stepped out the door, not realizing just how much she was about to leave behind.  

___________

Part 4

Series Masterlist

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker x fem! Reader - Dark Grey

A/n: So this was request but I couldn't find who requested it (and it wasn't anonymous!) So whoever did just give me a hey! This is literally the longest fic I have ever written.

Warnings: Blood, gore, death, sad Kaz, language, torture, Parem I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Your a double agent for the dregs

"Come on you little shits, we have a job to do." One of the higher ups of the Dime Lions yells at some men at some tables at the Emerald Palace in the back.

Little birds have told me that people have been raving about this place being extravagant, but it's really just extra dramatic if you ask me. The green of the building is like someone drunk from the Crow Club wandered over here and puked on it and someone just decided the color looked pretty, so they mixed some glitter and red and pow. There you have it.

That may just be me though.

I start to get up with all the others but the man who just yelled, jets hand in front of me, fast like I'm going to run off.

"The boss wants to talk with you about getting you higher status." The man growls obviously not happy about someone who could be possibly taking his spot and he's probably not happy it could be a girl. Well sucks too suck.

I almost nod and have an emotionless face on but I realize that's the real me would do that, have have to be Cozbi and she's a little naive. But she's good enough if Pekka wants to notice her.

I let a smile crawl on my face; "Well I guess your just going to have to tell Mr. Rollins I would be delighted." I say nearly flirting with an accent, but more taunting like as I twirl my tailored unnatural bright red hair (like it's VERY bright) around my finger and I grin like a popular school girl.

"I'm not your messenger." The man scowls.

"But boss wants you up there in five minutes." He snaps and goes off face all red.

I barely even manage keep into place long enough as the men walk out to start their job. As soon as they do I speed off to a bathroom and I write on a piece of paper in a stall.

Giving me higher status, think he's getting suspicions though. Their going on a job tomorrow night to take out the Blacktips. Amush. Pekka also got a stash of Parem. Don't know why. Stay Safe, don't give clues. Frame someone.

-Your favorite person from the barrel

I open the window above my stall and I do a low whistle.

Fweet. Fweet.

A crow comes and lands on the window sill I grin slightly and my (also tailored) e/c eyes touch down on the raven haired bird. I'm reminded of Kaz's raven hair and his dark brown eyes as I hand him the folded note and the bird tilts it's head and takes the note and fly's off.

I flush the toilet and hurry out heading to Pekka's office.

I open the door slowly priding myself for being exactly a minute late, it works really well for who I'm playing. I see Pekka siting in his chair but instead of waiting for me like I thought he would be. Right now though he's reading something with a almost confused look on his face.

Shit.

"Well, well, well Cozbi your finally here." Pekka smiles not a nice smile - though he is a barrel boss.

The door shuts behind me and someone shoves me to the ground and people surround me and hold me in place.

"Or should I say Y/n." And then everything goes black.

_______________Time skip a few hours in a random warehouse (not that you know that)😈😈😈___________________________________

I slowly open my eyes and I look around the place. I'm tied to chair there's no light in the room so it's hard to make out anything but I think the floor is concert but the walls are wood.

Cheap.

"I didn't think you would be up so soon Y/n... Well this is a surprise." Rollins says and then in flash stabs a dagger into my stomach.

My scream fills the air as he pulls the knife out. I make my voice quiver I can still be Cozbi, I can still be Cozbi.

"I-I don't know who Y/n-Y/n is sir-sir." I stutter but my entire body is on fire from being in enough interrogations before. It's telling me to be harsh to not get to the point, but I might be able to get out of here if I play the part.

He takes my jaw and shoves it forward harshly. "We already know who you are L/n. Y/n L/n the dregs notorious double agent that never gets killed or even better caught."

Pekka smiles sadistically.

"I'm going to make sure this story ends in red." He laughs.

He goes to leave but he puts his hand up.

"And make sure she's can't see." His henchmen put a blindfold on me as I hear the door close. I can feel them coming closer and I hear one smack something on the ground that must have been a bat.

"Let's have some fun girly." I tug at my bonds hopelessly and helplessness fills my body.

________TIME SKIP_________________________________________

My screams ring this room for the next week.

Or what I at least think is a week. There's no windows in here so it's hard to tell when time pass's. Pekka doesn't come back again but I know his coming soon because his henchmen have been worse than usual because they want a raise or something.

I gave up thinking Kaz would come. I remember what he told me last time I saw him before I went on this mission.

We won't come for you if you get caught and it's only a matter of time before you do.

I messed up the last mission we were on with the crows, I got Inej hurt and he wasn't happy. So I did this job.

Because maybe then I would get what I deserved.

My hands have knives through them sticking them to the chairs, there's blood all over my face from the daily beatings. My one leg is twisted and broken in ugly places and cuts and bruises litter my body.

I know it's only a matter of time before my body gives out and Pekka finally wins.

The door to my (what feels like) cell opens and there's Pekka and six more henchmen in the room.

Those are new.

They might not be henchmen though I think we're past that at this point, I think their assassins.

Or something like that anyways.

Their hoods are up but I can clearly see that there's two girls and four guys. My vision blurs a little. Maybe death will grant me mercy sooner than I thought.

"Meet my new friends Cozbi." Pekka mocks and jesters towards the cloaked figures.

"Ironic that you choose the name Cozbi. For did you know, it means liar? I thought maybe I should call you that now, liar. It fits perfectly you know?" Pekka spits in my face.

"Anyways..." Pekka drawls on for a bit and I realize the lack of movement in the halls. But before I can question that one of the male hooded figures gives a box to Rollins and he opens the box. Rollins grins like someone just made his day.

Fuck.

He advances on me with a small packet and I stay deadly still.

"Do you know what this is Cozbi." I keep my eyes trained on the packet.

"My name is Y/n."

Pekka laughs and grins evilly.

"You wanted to be Cozbi so you will be called as such." He growls and calls for is henchmen.

Two men come to tip my head back and hold my jaw in place. I try to shake them off by moving my head but it's no use.

"It's Parem." I freeze. No, no, no.

"For grisha you suffer by always wanting it not inculding the rare cases. But for normal humans."

He takes a step forward and he opens the packet and holds it over my mouth.

"It kills you terribly and so, so, so painfully." He crouches down and looks at me.

"Your going to die as Cozbi. Your going to die a liar, and I will make sure all of Ketterdam remembers that."

He gestures towards his henchmen and instead of trying to prier open my mouth like I expect them too.

They go and pull up my hands.

My hands go through the hilts of the blade and it hurts so much I can't do anything but scream.

Pekka shoves the Parem in my mouth.

My body feels like it's withering away and Pekka laughs as I vibrate against my seat. I feel my eyes widen and the only thing going through my head is that Rollins is a foul.

The knives.

And I'm not going out without a fight.

I pull the knives out of the handles of the seat and I scream as the hilt of the blades touch my skin but I quickly cut the bonds around me and I stab one of my knifes into the first henchmen.

I leap towards the other and I barley manage the scrap him before my body hits the floor and I can't move anymore.

Searing pain stabs through my body like multiple knives just stabbing me over and over again I expect Pekka to be the last face I see and I murmur something about the saints but then I see it.

The hooded figures.

It's the Crows.

The henchmen are down on the floor and Pekka is tied up and gagged to the chair. I feel my vision start to blur and the Crows go to check the area.

"We have to get her a healer!" Someone yells. But I'm on my back looking up and I barley even recognize that things are happening around me. It's like I'm watching from a different world but I can't do anything.

"Y/n!" Someone yells and picks me up from my spot on the ground.

"Come on Y/n!" Someone whisper-yells.

I groan as the person starts walking and I let out a rattling breath, that I knew that should concern me but I couldn't care less.

I just wanted it to end.

"Your not dying on me today Y/n."

Kaz, I think it's Kaz.

Everything shifts back into focus, Kaz is running (even with his bad leg) and somehow the searing pain from the parem in my body has started to subside. Noticing the many, many yards of guards running after the crows and some group of them has so, so, so many guns pointed right at Kaz.

Then it happens.

Suddenly I feel above the others, like I have powers that no one has ever had. The universe was bending to my will and I gasp as I'm lifted up into the air by something shadowy, and dark blackness surrounds my legs all the way up to my waist. I don't quiet know what I'm doing but it feels natural, like I knew how too do it all along.

I raise my hands into the air and shadows burst out into the open.

Guards are being cut in half, some are being chocked to death, some look like their getting stabbed multiple times as wounds just show up. Others look like they have a disease as darkness spreads across their bodies. And some just fall to the floor and die silently.

Their dead.

The power, and the need to protect everyone I care about is gone.

I don't even scream.

I hit the ground with a thud and I try to open my mouth as Kaz frantically pulls me into his arms cradling me. No, that couldn't be right though.

He yells for someone but I can't make it out I try to blink, but even that is hard and it's so slow and I can feel Kaz bring me closer too him but I don't really know what's reality anymore.

"Y/n." The voice (although it tries not to show it) lets concern and fear run through the words. I gasp.

"Kaz." I manage to say. He pulls me (somehow) closer as he lifts my face up to look into his.

He says something, but I can't comprehend anything he's saying. The edges of my vision start going black and everything else is going fuzzy.

"You'll live!" Kaz says, trying to reassure me but it sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more.

I place a hand on his and I want to say something, but the words are all mixed up and it feels like concrete is holding my jaw shut. Everything starts slowly turning black and I'm internally screaming in my head;

No! I have to say something! I can't go like this!

It's useless though, because everything slowly fades away the last thing I see is the dark brown of Kaz's concerned eyes.

_______TIME SKIP_____________________________________________

The light bulb of whatever room I'm in flickers off and on as darkens seems to try and cover it. I take a look around to see all the Crows tied up to a chair each, they have gags in their mouths and they look like they have been tortured out of their minds.

I run over to Wylan trying to help him out, but he let's out a muffled scream as I go towards him. I quickly turn to Jesper but he's so still in his seat not even looking at me.

Nina and her confident demeanor is gone, her aura is laced with panic and Matthias is with her on that one.

Inej can't seem to stop shaking, making her presence known to everyone. Then I turn to the last chair and my heart must have stopped.

Kaz's corpse lays, in the chair. Bubbles of darkens, are around his mouth and it looks like it chocked him to death.

Dirtyhands was finally beaten.

Then darkness shoots out of me, and I can't seem to stop it as it kills everyone else.

I sit up and a scream rips through my throat. I breath in heavily trying to get the air into my lungs. Everything in me burns, pain course's through me like a parasite on steroids, but at least time I succeed at muffling my scream.

I hear someone running from another room and the door fly's open. On command darkens shoots out from my hand and starts chocking the person- Holy shit! That's Kaz!

"No!" And it all appears to fade away into the shadows.

Tears start to fill my eyes, what will happen when I'm in a real state of panic? Could my nightmare eventually come true?

I feel the bed dip beside me and despite my hardest efforts, my eyes wander over to Kaz.

He looks like he hasn't slept a day in his life, with the essentially black moons under his eyes. His skin looks chalky white, contrasting his red rimmed eyes that looks like he had been crying just a few minutes ago.

Concern fills my shadowed heart, something must have happened for the Kaz fucking Brekker to be like this. My fears about being a shadow summoner disappear, they do stay at the back of my mind but finding out what's up with the bastard of the barrel is more important.

I carefully place a hand on his cheek. He tense's up a bit before relaxing into the palm of my hand and even leaning into it a bit.

"What happened?"

Kaz looks at me in disbelief. "What happened?" He lets out a chocked laugh that holds a sob in the background.

"You died." My breath hitches in my throat, wait... That can't be right. Can it?

"Matthias had to do chest compression's on you while Nina tried to restart your heart. All because I couldn't fucking do it."

He takes in a breath and rips my hand away from his face.

"Your heart stopped Y/n, we thought you were dead. But they kept going and somehow saved you!" A sob tears through his throat and Kaz Brekker breaks down in front of me. His walls that he has tried so hard to keep strong have had a boulder thrown at it. Smashing it with so much force that he couldn't possibly rebuild it.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. "For all the pain I caused you." I somehow manage to speak as my own tears start to come up.

"Seriously? Your sorry?" Kaz turns to me and grips my shoulders.

"Your the one who died, damn it!"

"Hey I have something to hold over Jesper?" I try to joke and it gets a small, very tiny tried smile out of Kaz.

"And the fact that your a shadow summoner."

"I didn't know." I say quickly and I pull back defensively, Kaz just sighs.

"I know."

He lets his hands run down my arms and his hands make delicate patterns on my skin. Then I remember the parem. Fuck.

"What were the effects of the parem?" If anyone would know, it would be Kaz.

He pause's for a second seemingly in thought before opening his mouth the speak.

"Well your life span was shortened to a normal one." I exhale in relief at that news, I really didn't want to live for centuries.

"But your powers could surpass the Darkling's, and the only reason you don't have the opposite of what you have now is because you pushed it down for so long. The healers somehow purged the parem out of your body before it could make you a mindless addict."

"That better news then I thought I would get." Kaz nods but there's something else lingering in the back of his head.

He thinks I'm going to leave.

I intertwine our hands together, and I turn my head to look him right in the eyes.

"I'm not leaving." I blurt out.

"If I went to the little palace I would get hunted, if I went anywhere else I would get hunted. I might go into hiding for a bit, but I'm not leaving you."

A smile that's even bigger than the last one by some means crawls up on his face.

"Good, because I just got you back."

Words 3021

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua

(If you want to be added just comment taglist)

[beskar-cowboy]

Stolen Goods

Part 1 of the Nowhere Girl Series 

Summary: The Mandalorian is sent to capture you, he finds the task more complicated than expected. Maybe you two can help each other out. (9.4k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: The Mandalorian x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, slightly dub-con for a moment but they both want it i promise, smut, canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, blood, hurt/comfort, a dislocated shoulder, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk OBVIOUSLY, major praise kink, fingering, age difference (not specified), me making a bunch of shit up, this takes place right before Episode 1 so no baby

A/N - this was supposed to be really rough hate fucking with Mando but it just turned into him endlessly praising you…. idk what happened but enjoy <3

The Mandalorian is pissed.

He’s worked with Karga for a while now, known him for years. He knows sometimes things get quiet, that there’s slim pickings for the more than eager bounty hunters who will pick up anything and anyone - just like him - for desperate credits.

But this? This was a new low. Even for Karga.

Up and coming Coruscant senator, Karga had informed the Mandalorian, she’s on the run from the Imps.

Mando had rolled his eyes underneath his helmet as he was filled in on details of the only puck Karga had for him. Ridiculous, sounded like a babysitting gig.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that look.” Karga huffed, rolling his own eyes at the emotionless beskar helmet.

The Mandalorian said nothing.

“Look, it’s a job, you want it or not?”

A waste of his fucking time was what it was.

Karga huffed again and removed the puck from the tabe but Mando was faster, his gloved hand slamming it back down and gripping it into his palm.

“This is all you have?” The Mandalorian pushed, voice weary through the vocoder.

Karga nodded solemnly. Mando tilted his helmet at the Guild leader, annoyed and unimpressed.

The man scoffed, he seemed amused, “Think she’ll be easy?”

“A kid who’s runaway from home… I’m not a babysitting service-”

“No one’s been able to track her down. I’ve got multiple pucks on her and no one’s come back for months. I’m running low on bounty hunters.” Karga nearly chuckled.

The Mandalorian felt his adrenaline spike. He needed a challenge, it wasn’t a hunt if it wasn’t a challenge.

“She’s no easy feat, Mando. She’s wanted for armed robbery, embezzelment and suspected murder. She’s a slippery one” He sighed, running a hand down his face in astonishment, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips, like he couldn’t help but be impressed.

Now that’s what piqued Mando’s interest.

You’re dangerous. It’s always more fun when they’re dangerous. It’s more of a challenge, it’s more rewarding.

The Mandalorian had been craving a challenge. Meaningless bounty after the other, cowards, pathetic con men, easy takedowns. All of it, it was becoming mind numbing.

He missed the tracking, the spying, the surveying, the chase.

The Mandalorian is pissed.

And that’s how he found himself here - fuming, chasing after some kid, the tracking fob lead him all the way to you.

You’re on Sriluur, one of the most grimy, crime infested planets in the system. Seems like a pretty obvious place to look, almost too obvious.

What would a wanted bounty be doing herer? Then again, nearly everyone on this forsaken planet is probably a wanted bounty somewhere, by someone. 

Maybe this is a very calculated move, hiding out amongst a never ending crowd of lowlifes and criminals, you just blend in, become faceless in a way.

But you, you couldn’t be more obvious even if you tried.

Mando finds you in a cantina: grimy, dingy, damp and dark. He’s confused, to say the least. You…. you don’t belong here.

There’s no way that you’re the one he’s chasing, the one he’s hunting, the one accused of robbery, embezzelment, suspected murder, on the run from the fucking Imps. The tracking fob went berserk when it landed on you, he had thought it was broken because there was no way it was you.

A runaway from Coruscant, an up and coming senator.

That all makes sense now that Mando’s looking at you. You fit the part, you’re clearly young, beautiful, fucking beautiful - Mando stays on that thought for a while, trying to make sense of it, make sense of you.

Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain, what are you running from?

You stand out from everyone here on this fucking planet, you’re a light amongst black holes, how do you not immediatetly make yourself a target?

He watches you for the most part of the afternoon from a dark corner of the cantina. He wonders what, or who, you’re waiting for. You’re armed - heavily armed for someone your size - like Karga said you’d be. Two blasters and some sort of rifle slung over one of your shoulders, three daggers and a vibroblade stashed in your jacket, all probably stolen, Mando decides.

Your eyes shine bright like suns, like jewels, glossy even in the low light of the cantina, they shine with something Mando knows too well: some sort of emptiness, bitterness, the need for something no one will give you, something you have to take yourself.

Two men step into the bar, they spot you before you spot them, Mando clocks. His heart rate picks up and he keeps his hand over his blaster, watching you, watching them. They sit themselves down at a table across the cantina from you.

The air shifts, it becomes too quiet and heavy with unsaid potential and Mando can’t be the one to move first, he’ll ruin whatever it is that’s building right now.

A blaster goes off.

One of the men falls face first onto the table he’s sat at - shot through the stomach, a singeing red, burning hole left on his lower half from underneath the table.

Things seem to move in slow motion: you rise from your corner, blaster outstretched towards the now lone man, him rushing towards the back entrance. Mando follows behind you as you chase after the man, shouting out at him, shouting out a name, one Mando doesn’t recognize and he feels so out of place.

He stays near the doorway, watching as you corral the man out in the alleyway, in plain daylight and hold him at gunpoint.

The good thing about being on a planet like Sriluur is that no one bats an eye at street violence, no one’s going to snitch on a good alley fight.

You cuff him almost too easily, knocking him to the ground with an easy kick of the leg. You’re good, clean and swift - Mando guesses you have to be since you’ve been on the run for so long.

It also doesn’t hurt that you’re stupidly pretty, he can’t help but think.

“Where’s the loading dock?” You interrogate the man, blaster pressed to the back of his head as your boot stomps him into the ground, hands cuffed behind his back.

Your voice goes straight to Mando’s belly igniting something akin to a volcanic eruption or a swarm of butterflies - which one, he’s not sure but fuck did you sound sweet. To sweet to be so fucking fierce.

“Y-You won’t reach it before the shipment.” The man groans, face grimaced in pain as you press into his back harder, jamming the nozzle of the blaster into his neck.

“Where is it?” You grit from behind clenched teeth, cocking the gun. The man quivers, lip trembling as he tries to wriggle out of your grip but you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Out- out west! Past the badlands, into the desert but you won’t make it on foot-”

Like an idiot, Mando’s tracking fob slips from his pocket and both the man and you snap your heads in his direction, like he interrupted some sort of performance.

Your eyes land on the tracking fob before Mando can say anything, your blaster goes off and the man’s head thuds against the ground, dark syrupy blood pouring out from the back of his skull.

You got what you needed, so you make a run for it.

The Mandalorian calls after you but you bolt quickly down the alleyway, making as many sharp turns as possible to throw him off. You run with no particular direction, no set route in mind. You’ll head west once you’re sure he’s gone but you have to lose him first.

A Mandalorian, you can’t believe they sent a fucking Mandalorian after you.

You whiz down the streets of the criminal planet, pushing past vendors, scammers and junkies alike, trying to lose yourself in the crowd. You’re quite good at it actually, making a run for it, losing a hunter, but he’s got a tracking fob. That’ll be a challenge.

Glancing behind you, you see no shiny helmet bouncing through the crowd, you don’t want to be so bold to assume you’ve already lost him so you keep running. You decide to run towards your speeder, if you can’t out run him you can definitely gain some distance between the two of you this way.

Looking around you, you situate yourself, trying to figure out which way to run in order to make it to your speeder as quickly as possible and out run the fucking Mandalorian.

It must be a few blocks down, you run further south into the downtown area, knowing you hid it in an alleyway near a picked over fruit stand.

You’re close, you’re so close to your bike, just a few more blocks.

You round another corner, searching your pockets for your keys and that’s when he smashes into you, knocking you to the ground.

Pain radiates through your body from the impact of unforgiving beskar, your ears ring and your eyes go blurry.

You reach for your vibroblade, managing to knock his helmet with your elbow in the process. The Mandalorian goes down and you roll yourself over, trying to disarm him only to find that he holds neither a blaster nor cuffs.

What?

Was he not after you? Was he not just hunting you down?

Your lapse of confusion breaks your concentration and he manages to pin you down, rolling you over and pinning your hands above your head as he sits himself on your chest. The wind is nearly knocked out of you as he crushes you into the dirt with his weight, stars fog your vision as a headache sets in, ears possibly bleeding. You feel like you’ve been hit with a gong.

“W-Who sent you?” You try to ask, voice fuzzy as your head pounds. You can barely focus on him, on the intimidating T shape of his visor as he pears down at you from above.

You should be terrified, you should be trying to push him off of you but you don’t feel threatened. He’s unarmed. You're still trying to figure out why.

Mando has a moment to take you in now, realizing that Karga was right; you really are young. Not that young just, younger than him and sparkling in the daylight where he can see all of you now.

Your face, your eyes, perfect eyebrows, a scar on your cheek that Mando finds himself wanting to touch. You’re pretty and... dirty. Gritty. Like you coated yourself in something in order to fit in better amongst the scum here.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grunts, easy up his hold on you once he realizes he’s practically smothering you.

You groan, eyes squinting, the sun suddenly seeming harsher now, hurting your eyes. Your vision slowly comes back, things aren't as blurry and you’re overwhelmed by how close he is.

“Why are you doing this?” The Mandalorian asks.

You don’t know what he means by ‘this’, so you grunt and push him off of you, he lets you, rolling off to the side. You’re dizzy as you stand up, trying to find your footing and shooting the Mandalorian and more than confused glare. What the fuck is he trying to pull right now?

You both know he’s here for you, he’s literally got your tracking fob beeping on his holster.

But he’s not cuffing you, he’s not threatening you. You’re both just… starring. At each other.

Maybe it’s a moment of recognition, acknowledging whatever it is that’s going on here. He’s after you, but he’s… not? You should be the one asking questions.

You let your hand slide up over your shoulder, reaching for your rifle but you’re stopped short by a flashing bright pain in your shoulder. You wince, hissing and bringing your arm back down to your side.

You give the Mandalorian a daggering glare before you turn to inspect your bike, checking to make sure nothing’s been stolen from your satchel which you stupidly left slung over the back while you were in the cantina.

Fuck, he really had slammed into you, hadn’t he? He came at you full speed, knocking you down to the ground with his entire body weight and then fucking sitting on you, like an idiot. He hadn’t necessarily meant to do that, he’s not quite sure why he feels so bad but, he does.

“Why are you running away from Coruscant?” He presses and you roll your eyes, even though your back is turned on him now, trying to ignore the late onset pain searing through your shoulder.

You stay silent, just focusing on making sure everything’s in your bag so that you can head out to the -

“What loading dock are you looking for?”

You whip around towards the Mandalorian, hand on your smaller blaster, prepared to pull it on him.

“What do you know about the loading dock?” You seethe.

The Mandalorian keeps a steady watch on your hand, twitching over your blaster. He raises his hands in surrender. Maker, you’re jumpy.

“Nothing more than you do.”

You fling your blaster from your holster, finger on the safety trigger and aim it at the heavily armoured Mandalorian.

You mentally curse yourself, how ironic would it be if your blaster fire ricocheted off of his arm and came back at you.

Better have good aim then. You flick it over that spot near his belly, where the armour separates. Maybe you should shoot him in the arm, get him back for what feels like a dislocated shoulder.

Even Mando can notice how your arm hangs heavy by your side, how you hold back from moving it too much, your balance nearly thrown off due to the now useless limb. That needs to be popped back into place.

“Who are you?” You seethe, trying to get him to focus, take you seriously.

“I just want to help.” He speaks softly, voice coming out low from his vocoder. Maybe it would sound nicer if you weren’t on the verge of shooting him.

You roll your eyes, switching off your safety and cocking your blaster. “Better think of something fast, shiny.”

“I can help you get there. I-I can help you reach the dock.”

That piques your interest. Fine, you’ll humor him.

“I’m fine with my speeder-”

“It’s broken.”

What?

You squint in the Mandalorian’s direction, not quite believing him and not wanting to take your eyes off of him to inspect your speeder.

“How do you know it's broken?”

The Mandalorian can’t help but grin underneath his helmet. You take his silence as your answer and you growl something incoherent, chucking your blaster onto the dirt and turning around to inspect your bike.

Mando had managed to track your speeder down before he found you in the cantina. He saw you pull up on it and followed your dark figure into the city before he even got a good look at you, just trusting the fob.

He took out your engine, destroyed it, you see pieces of it now scattered amongst the alley. You kick the now useless speeder, much like your useless arm. Was he trying to take you down slowly? Break you apart piece by piece like a slow and easy kill? He’s toying with you.

“I have a ship.” The Mandalorian speaks, breaking the tense silence.

You turn to face him again, he leans against the opposite side of the narrow alley. “What’s in it for you?”

The Mandalorian says nothing, he keeps his visor trained on you but he nervously fiddles with his own fingers.

“What do you gain from helping me? Aren’t I just a bount-”

“I have a feeling I’m after the wrong person.”

Oh?

“Bold of you to assume.” You scoff, nearly laughing at him but you don’t want to waste this opportunity. It’s not everyday you’re offered the services of a Mandalorian. You’re just not sure if you can trust him yet.

“Tell me what you’re after.” He presses again.

You’re reluctant to talk. Opening up isn’t your… speciality, so to say. Especially not with strangers. Especially not strangers who have a fucking tracking fob on you.

Fuck. You don’t see how you have any other options right now. A broken speeder and a useless arm, you realize it’s this guy or nothing.

You groan something frustrated and slightly pained. “Fine. I’ll fill you in on the way, shiny.”

//

You were born into it, as most people are on Coruscant.

Born to a cold, unforgiving family focused on politics and appearances. You were always going to become a senator or something of the sort, you had informed Mando.

None of the kids had a choice and no one cared to do anything about it, no one cared to change things, help the planets that were being robbed and forgotten about. So you had decided to do something about it.

You broke free a few years ago and have been robbing from the Imperials ever since. They have these fancy, luxurious, expensive getaway houses and cottages all across the galaxy and you follow them like bread crumbs on a trail.

The cottages usually indicate some sort of side business, the Imperials leaving their families to go on a ‘business vacation’ - which really means illegal government shit, obviously.

Planets which house their cottages also house their loading docks, outposts, trading posts, anything that helps them keep the wealth in this incognito backtrade, away from the official systems and taxes, just continuously fueling the 1%.

But you, you’d been stealing from them. You infiltrate the loading docks and outposts, you reroute the goods to the planets and communities that the corrupt government forgets about, like Sorgan, Kashyyyk and Endor to name a few. You make sure they get what they need, what the higher ups try to keep for themselves.

You steal it from them and redistribute it equally, fairly - leaving none for those in Coruscant.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you; you’ve had nothing but privilege your whole life, you chose to leave it, to fight for something. You took it upon yourself to stand up and fight the only life you’ve ever known.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you, but Maker are you good.

You have a purpose, something to fight for, something that drives you every single day. Something you care about. That’s not something a lot of people can say they have, definitely  not some criminal on Sriluur, or even a bounty hunter like him.

No wonder the Imps are after you. You’re killing men left and right with such ease it seems. You’re fucking good to have been on the run for this long, to be this successful.

Mando’s just thankful he didn’t turn you into them with what limited information Karga gave him. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.

“Not everyone can be a mindless cog in the machine, one piece breaks loose and the whole thing falls apart.” You explain while you and the Mandalorian trek through the cool, dark and seemingly never ending desert of Sriluur.

You had told him that you couldn’t fly too close to the loading dock. They’re armed, they have men on the lookout, radars searching for ships flying overhead. You had said they would see you coming from a mile away, way before you would even see them.

So Mando landed the ship quite a distance aways, just outside of the Badlands. You would have to walk the rest of the way, through the night so that you make it there in the early morning.

“I realized it was either going to be me or someone else who was going to have to make the first move, and I was tired of waiting for something to happen so I just… I just ran.” You shrug, as best as you can with your fucked up shoulder but you wince at the dull pain.

You’d been walking for hours now, and your arm was only hurting more and more. Mando would have to do something before you reached the dock, there was no way you’d be able to fight, or even shoot, in this condition.

“Let me look at yo-” The Mandalorian reaches out to you but you jerk away from him, grimacing again at the dull pain which radiates throughout the heavy limb.

“I’m fine.” You groan, supporting your arm with your other one, trying to hold up the dead weight.

“You’re not.”

You groan. He’s right, you know it. You know he is but you don’t want to go through with having a stranger pop your arm back into place.

Weighing your options, you come up on a dead desert tree and you quickly lean your weight on the dead and hollow bark, trying to calm yourself down and breathe through your nose.

“I can help.” He offers, hands twitching near his sides.

You glare at him, look him up and down as he slowly approaches you. You say nothing, he takes this as confirmation.

Gently, the Mandalorian takes your forearm into his gloved hands, taking some of the dead weight for you and you sigh a bit at the relief.

“You ever done this before?” You ask, trying to make small talk and distract from the way he’s touching you so preciously, how close he’s standing to you. Whatever, whatever, whatever, this is totally fine.

“Nope.” Great.

Mando can see the fear in your eyes, the fear of the sudden pain that’ll come with snapping your arm back into its socket, the fear that he might fuck it up. He knows you don’t trust him, he knows you’re letting your guard down for this, to let him help you. He thinks you’re brave for that.

So he takes off his gloves.

And you watch in a mix of amazement and shock at the tanned and calloused skin which is slowly revealed to you. “H-Hey isn’t that not allow-”

“Shut up.” The Mandalorian grunts, voice deep and gravely and regrettably making your stomach flutter. You swallow your protests and let him do what he needs to do.

He inspects your arm and you let him, somewhat losing yourself to the touch of another, skin on skin - his warm and weathered hands on your hot flesh. It feels good, a nice contrast to how he body slammed you earlier today.

The Mandalorian sighs. “Mando.”

“What?”

“My name, call me Mando.” He tells you, visor trained heavily on you, gauging your every reaction.

“O-Okay.” You gulp, unable to look away from the pitch black, intimidating T of his visor. You didn’t realize how close he was to you, you think you can hear him breathing under that helmet of his.

“Let me hear you say it.” His hands wrap around your bicep, testing the muscle it seems and your face burns at his tone, how deep his voice has gotten.  

“M-MandOH!” He jerks your arm upwards right as you say his name and he watches your face twist in pain. That fucker. He was trying to distract you and it worked.

“Okay, okay- is it in?” You ask as a sweat breaks out on your hairline from the pain, your body quickly overheating as you breathe heavily.

“No.” Mando answers. You’re about to go off on him when he continues, “Y-You’ll have to take your shirt off… I can’t see the muscles like this.”

“You’re kidding me.” You groan, eyes closing tight as you try to calm yourself down, your mind growing heavy.

You can’t believe this is fucking happening, this day is not going at all how you planned. Regardless, you use your still intact arm to reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your torso as much as you can before the pain from your other arm stops you with a pained moan.

“Here-”

Mando moves closer and nearly pins you to the tree, grabbing the hem of your shirt into his hand and gently pulling it the rest of the way, careful to remove it from your injured arm before he tosses it over his shoulder so it doesn’t get covered in sand.

Mando doesn’t look - he swears he doesn’t…. Until he does.

His burnt red breast plate is nearly grazing against your chest, barely covered by the thin material of your bra.

Your chest heaves with pain laced breaths, your body trying to regulate something to get anything under control again. The curves of your breasts shine with sweat, you glimmer in the moonlight and Mando finds himself wanting more and more to put you at ease, to lick you, taste you, clean you of your sweat with his own tongue - you pretty, young thing.

His head is getting foggy, he needs to focus on the task at hand but that isn’t so easy when the task is you.

Mando looks up to find your eyes growing heavy, your body growing tired with exertion and going numb to the pain.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Mando reassures, the hand which isn’t supporting your arm coming up to hold your jaw, hold your head up, thumb caressing your cheek. You smile groggily.

“Y-You’re… you’re fault.”

Yeah, he knows that. He could have looked where he was going and not have rammed you into the ground and this whole ordeal could have been avoided.

“I know. I… I’m sorry. We’re almost done.” You take it he doesn’t apologize often and you giggle dopily.

Your eyes droop and Mando gets nervous. He taps your cheek a few times, your skin hot to the touch and it worries him.

“Okay eyes on me, pretty girl.” You hum something content, trying to wiggle your body closer to his but he holds you tight, keeps you pinned against the tree. That’s hot.

“You called me- called me pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah I did, now keep looking at me, okay” Mando flushes underneath his helmet but he returns his attention to your supple arm, grabbing the fleshy area near your shoulder tight. His touch is so wicked, it burns. You hate it.

“Okay, shiny.”

Mando grabs your shirt off of his shoulder and brings it to your mouth, ordering you to ‘bite’. He shoves it into your mouth, your saliva quickly soaking into the fabric and Mando has to look away from your pretty little mouth.

“It’s going to hurt.” He tells you and you grumble something back to him but it's muffled by the pretty fabric he tucked into your mouth.

Your eyes are nearly glazed over, shiny and heavy and he’s so fucked for thinking about how you’d look just like this if he fucked you until you were numb, rendered dumb and thoughtless at the end of his cock. All fucking shiny, wet and-

You scream as he whips your shoulder bone back into its socket.

Tears slip past your eyes and drool spills from between your lips and into your shirt. The skin of your arm is hot to the touch but it’s there, it's back in place. Mando did it.

He lets you cry, lets you fall forward into him and sob into his cowl. Mando holds you against him and gently rubs the muscle of your shoulder through your flesh, making sure everything is okay and in the right place. You twitch in his hold, trying to get away from his touch by retreating back further into him. It makes his cock twitch.

Mando shushes you, massaging up and down your arm as you shiver in his hold, overcome with adrenaline and exertion. You feel completely wiped out from the pain alone but your body jitters with energy.

“T-Thanks.” You tremble, voice exhausted but it seems like your senses are already coming back to you.  

You pull away from Mando and take your shirt into your hands again, carefully shrugging it back on and ignoring the giant wet spot from your own spit. That was fucking humiliating.

Mando doesn’t respond, he just nods and watches as you cover yourself back up again. He already misses the fleshy warmth of your body against his hard and cold one.

You breathe a bit heavily, still winded from everything that’s just happened: your arm being snapped back into place, how close Mando was to you, how he touched you, manipulated your body so easily.

He called you pretty.

You mentally scoff at yourself, so fucking what?

You try not to care, you try to move on from that, but you tuck it away first; the way his voice sounded as he tried to soothe you, calm you down. You tuck that away for later, for when you’re alone again after all of this is over.

You grunt as you sling your rifle back over your shoulder, “Let’s keep moving.”

//

You reach the loading dock as the sun threatens to touch the horizon, the sky only starting to become a lighter shade of blue, signaling the early morning.

The perimeter is easy to breach, you get inside with few casualties. They only seem to have a few men patrolling this early in the morning - their weak spot, so it seems.

Mando willingly helps you and you’re grateful for the second pair of hands, you’re not used to having backup. You usually go in and come out alone. But you welcome this, he makes it too easy, it was already easy enough on your own, save for a few close calls over the years but he makes it easy.

With the two of you, you take them down and make good time of it too. You should be out of here, with the shipment of goods rerouted in under an hour.

And you do.

Everything works: you get the shipment out and you run out of the loading dock without much trouble, escaping blaster fire as you run back off into the desert, towards Mando’s ship.

He covers you, shields you with his armed body as you make a run for it, avoiding the open fire which has begun to rain down upon you. Someone must have sent a distress signal. It doesn’t matter though, the money is off to a deserving planet and you’ve got a Mandalorian shielding you with his own body. You did it.

You’re practically vibrating as you run up the open hull to the ship, losing the Imps and their men through the Badlands. You’re safe, you made it.

Mando closes the ramp before you’re even up all the way and you fall into him. He gives you no time to recover, hauling you further into the ship, dropping you in the copilot seat, setting coordinates to who knows where as the Razor Crest lifts into the air, beaming into hyperspace.

You’re panting, you’re both painting and breathing heavily. You barely notice that he’s up from his seat, crouching below you as he feels you over, squeezing your arms, like he’s trying to make sure you’re okay and you want to push him away for it, push him off of you but you can’t. You can’t.

That was so good. You did it.

“H-How’s your arm?” Mando asks, visor staring through your very being.

You nod your head affirmatively, unable to produce any words right now, staring down at his vacant visor without a thought in your mind except that you did it. You both did it.

Mando’s hand comes up to your face, holding your cheek and the back of your neck gently and it surprises you.

“Come on, words pretty girl. Need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good, I’m good- promise.” You smile shakily, still reeling with adrenaline, your limbs still shaking.

You’re shocked at his insistence on calling you that. You don’t want to admit it but... you like it. Sort of.

You think Mando chuckles underneath his helmet, the vocoder distorts it but you hear the exhale of breath he lets out, the way his shoulders bounce lightly. He lets his hand trail down to your knee - subtle.

You feel giddy. We did it, you giggle to yourself, unable to contain the burst of energy pulsing through your body.

“You did it.” Mando adds and fuck -  did you say that out loud?

“I- no. I mean, you were there, you helped-”

He stops you mid-sentence, voice low, hushed and squeezing your knee tight. “Don’t be so fucking modest.”

You feel hot suddenly. Not just your face, you feel hot all over, your whole body coursing with it - indignation.

Whatever, you scoff, rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders. “Shut up, Mando.”

He moves both of his hands, letting them come to grip both of your thighs now and you hate the way it makes your eyelids grow heavy, threatening to roll back into your head if he adds just a bit more pressure.

“You’re difficult, you know that?” He grits even though you know it's not frustration or annoyance coursing through his blood.

You try to move your legs, push him away from you but he’s got you in this vice grip, pawing at you through your clothes.

“Only when I want to be.” Mando chuckles again, he’s amused.

Fuck do his hands feel good, it’s been so long.

“I don’t believe that.” He purrs, voice low and bassey and it goes straight to your cunt, which he’s growing increasingly closer to.

“Y-You don’t know me.”

His hands trail up your thighs, feeling the warmth seep through your pants and through the worn leather of his gloves as he nears the zipper. The helmet tips upwards to meet your completely dazed stare.

Gone is your fierce and biting tongue. You’ve gone quiet, all because of him - this stranger, this Mandalorian, a bounty hunter who has your fucking fob.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you’re good.” Mando tells you, fingers dancing up to the seam of your pants. You just stare at him, eyes wide and shining bright with hyperspace in their reflection. Beautiful. “How are you so fucking good?”

You know he’s not really asking, you know it’s a rhetorical question but -

“I’m not good, M-Mando.” You quiver as he rips the zipper down. 

You’ve stopped trying to push him away but you’re not encouraging him either, completely frozen in place by the intimidating black visor of his helmet, like some dark angel tempting you with death.

Rushed and hurried, Mando’s shucking down your pants and chucking them somewhere onto the floor of the cockpit. He bites the tips of his gloves, pulling them off and throwing them away just as carelessly.

Mando growls something fierce and terrifying, taking both of your knees in each hand and pulling you down the chair till your ass nearly hangs off the edge, spreading you so wide its fucking embarrasing.

“But you are.” He presses, so certain of this ‘fact’.

Then he’s spreading you again and it’s so lewd and wet. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess all over yourself and you go hot, embarrassed as you try and look away from the black of his visor that’s intently trained on you and your soaked panties.

“Don’t you wanna prove to me how good you are?”

You can’t help the pathetic whimper that’s released from your throat as you nod your head too eagerly and without thought. He’s got you right in his line of fire, right where he wants you. It’s been too long since you’ve had someone take care of you.

You can’t bear to look at him as he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glossy cunt to him.

Mando can’t remember the last time he fingered someone’s cunt open to get them ready for him, all of him. He feels dizzy, sees literal star whizzing past him as he parts your lips, watches how your dark hole flutters and seeps for him, all dark and flushed and swollen for him, for his touch. You’re perfect.

Maker, does he want to taste you, to feel you cum on his tongue, on his face, feel how fucking hot you are on his lips but he can’t, he knows he can’t. So he’ll do what he can with his fingers, for now.

Slowly, he takes his index and sinks it into, your walls fluttering to let him in, suffocating the single digit already. Mando curses underneath his breath - you’re so fucking tightt, he can hardly believe it.

You cry out at the sensation, having had nothing but your own fingers for the past few months, one of his felt so much better, thicker and rougher. Tears are already welling in your eyes from the sweet relief.

Mando adds a second, not wanting to waste anymore time and starts scissoring you open for him, curling his fingers against the ridged wall and beckoning you towards him. Your back curls against the copilot seat, your hands flying upwards to grab the headrest of the seat, pressing your tits up and outwards underneath your thin shirt.

Even through your thin bra, Mando can tell your nipples are hard. He thinks about twisting them, biting them, licking at them, at you. Fuck, you’re so sexy.

“Dangerous girl,” Mando praises, growling and unrelenting in his thrusts, “how many men do you think you took out back there? Ten?”

You whine, eyes still squeezed shut, unable to take in the fucking Mandalorian between your legs, fingering your weeping cunt open.

“C-counted fifteen actually.”

Mando chuckles darkly, “Of course you did, show off.”

You laugh too but it’s cut off by a whine as he curls his fingers again, digging them into you and you see stars everywhere.

“Don’t have to- to show off when you're good.” You smirk, trying to give him your best shit-eat grin, finally opening your eyes and looking down at him beneath you like this.

He glows with the light of hyperspace, all the beaming stars reflecting off of his helmet, it nearly takes your breath away. His fingers are shiny with your slick as he drags them in and out of you, you can hear the way you pussy squelches for him, begging for more while you wither wordlessly for him.

“Hmmmm that’s right you - you good fucking girl, you’re such a good girl.”

There’s nothing you could have possibly done to contain the absolute wanton moan that leaves your chest at his sickening praise.

You never did any of this for attention, for praise, to make you feel better about yourself. You just felt it was your duty, to fix inequalities where you see them like those stupid senators claim they do but don’t. You never did it to be congratulated, to be thanked.

But when Mando praises you like this, calls you a good girl - fuck does that feel good.

He picks up the pace, his fingers fucking you open and you could cum just like this if he doesn’t stop soon. He feels it, feels you squeezing his fingers tighter than anything he’s ever felt before and he momentarily worries that he won’t fit, that he won’t be able to ram his cock deep into you but he knows you can take it, knows you’ll suck him in all desperate and wet for it.

Mando wrenches his fingers from you and you nearly scream at him for the sudden emptiness, your body convulsing and panting against the chair. He hasn’t even fucked you yet and you’re already completely debauched. Eyes glassy and skin glistening, you’re beautiful.

He stands to his full height, towering over you and casting you in his shadow. You look up at him through your lashes, chest heaving and legs spread wide, your core wet, shiny and flushed dark with arousal. You’re eye level now with his more than prominent bulge, cock straining against his pants and your mouth drools for it.

“Up, turn around.” He orders deep and low through his vocoder and you can’t scramble fast enough. Mando would chuckle at your desperation, degrade you and slap you around if he wasn’t so fucking desperate for it himself.

You do as he says, facing the other way and clutching the headrest of the set again as you look over your shoulder at him, watching, drooling as he pulls his flushed and heavy cock from his pants. You nearly choke on your breath - he’s huge, red and angry and you’re worried it’ll shred you from the inside out, but you want it - you want it rough, mean, fucking primal and gross. You want him to ruin you a little bit.

You watch him as he knocks your knees further apart on the seat of the chair, opening you up for him. You stick your ass out, wiggling it at him in a desperate presentation and he grumbles something before he’s grabbing handfuls of your flesh into his hands, grabbing you hard and tight and it pinches - you wail something high pitched and pathetic, whining like a bitch for him.

Mando hooks your soaked underwear high on your hips, watching the fabric pull tight against your own skin. He plays with the band, making sure it’s still sufficiently pulled to the side, to let his cock just glide right into you.

Resting your chin on your shoulder, you look back at him from under your lashes as he lines himself up, notching the spongy head of his cock at your entrance and you could cry, you could actually fucking cry you want it so bad. But your tongue isn’t as easily tamed as your body.

“You ever- ever fuck a bounty before, Mando?”

He growls mean and gritty before he’s grabbing you by the hips and sheathing himself all the way to the hilt in your tight cunt, a moan is punched out of you from deep within. He reaches the end of you almost effortlessly - literally pushing the boundaries of your body. You feel him in your stomach, you feel him making room for himself.

“Maybe.” He grunts, blushing furiously underneath his helmet all the while thinking “no”. He’s never done this before. And it shows in how he nearly forgot that you were - still are - his bounty.

He forgets that he tracked you down, hunted you, dislocated your fucking shoulder while chasing you down on a gritty planet. Your pussy made him forget all of that and he’s embarrassed by it. Maker, you could kill him right now if you wanted to and there’s nothing he could do to stop it. He thinks he’d let you.

So he fucks you harder for it, pulls back out until just the tip of him is at your entrance before he’s spearing you in half, breaking you open on his thick cock and fucking you mean, like he’s angry with you.

You try and scoff at his feigned smugness but it comes out as a broken moan, your knuckles going white from how hard you're gripping the headrest trying to gain some stability from his punishing thrusts, the way he pulls you back onto his cock over and over again. “D-Doubt it.”

Mando’s vocoder distorts his voice, or maybe it really has dropped that low but he’s grumbling something animalistic and fucking feral, wrapping his forearm around your shoulders and hauling you back into him - until your back is flush with his rough and cold breastplate.

He holds you tight against him, hips snapping against your ass as you bounce in his hold, the velocity of his thrusts sending you reeling. You feel lost, thrown out into space without a lifeline - all you can do is hold onto his forearm for some semblance of stability as Mando fucks you into oblivion.

The cool metal of his helmet kisses your cheek and you hiss but let him press it against you anyways. You can feel his eyes on you from behind the visor, you know he’s watching every expression, hearing every pathetic little noise he’s pulling from you - a front row seat to your destruction.

“Why are you so- worried about it? Hmm?” He coddles, as if he were talking to a child. It’s condescending and you’re so fucked out of your mind already that you can’t even respond, can’t even bite back at him.

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never had someone reach so deep, spread you so wide, fuck you hard and open like a decimated fruit. It’s perfect - fuck, it’s so good.

“Am I not - shit - am I not fucking you hard enough, pretty girl?”

Mando’s hips grind up into you, shredding your insides and you cry; you feel legitimate tears spring from your eyes as you bend to his will, bend as he molds you to his cock. You let him.

Mando scoffs, or chuckles - you can’t tell. He leans in even closer, you swear you could feel his breath against your face if it weren’t for his stupid helmet digging into the side of your face.

“I know you like it when I call you that, g-get so fucking tight.”

You nod your head fervently, unable to produce any words as your pussy and stomach clench around him, that familiar fire burning so rampantly you feel like you could cum with one more word out of his mouth.

“Tell me.”

“I- I like it.” You barely manage to get out, voice gone and the wind fucked out of you. You have no energy or willpower to be able to speak properly - you’re on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm.

Mando’s forearm flexes against where he holds your shoulders against his chest, his tanned hand moving to come and wrap around your throat, squeezing tight and angling your back like you would a bow. He fucks you deeper and harder and ruthless at this new angle, like a dagger to your insides - a warning.

“I-I like it when you - fuck! - when you call me p-pretty girl.” You wail, pussy squelching around his length embarrassingly loud as proof of your words, of his power against you. He hums, satisfied.

“Yeah? Yeah, you want it h-harder, pretty girl?” He asks and it's mean. It’s evil this time when he asks you, like he’s making fun of you as you tremble at the end of his cock, tired and wet and fucked out of your mind.

You nod your head pathetically, not caring anymore how desperate you are to cum, you just need him. You need Mando to keep fucking you.

“Yes! Yes, please just- just keep fucking me. D-Do whatever you want.”

Mando’s heart and cock flare at your words, igniting something deep inside him and he’s hauling you around, pulling his sopping cock from your cunt with a disgusting wet pop, your juices leaking all over him, the chair, the durasteel floor.

If he were being any meaner, if you were anyone else, he would have you lick it up, lick yoursef off the fucking floor but - Maker, he can’t think like that right now, he’ll get too light headed and pass out before he’s had a chance to cum.

He picks you up and lifts you onto the ground, laying you on your back less than gracefully before he’s shucking your top off of you along with your bra, leaving you in nothing but your soaked and drenched panties which still sit pulled to the side of your abused pussy.

Fucking look at you, eyes bleary and wet, fucked out of your mind like the rest of you. All shiny and wet with him, and your tits. You’re so pretty, naked on the floor of his ship like this.

Mando takes your nipples into both his hands and twists, pulling and groping at you like a brute and all you can do is arch your back, pressing yourself further into his touch like a mindless whore.

He lines himself up again, leveraging himself on your breasts and splitting you open again with too much ease this time, you’re so wet and dark and flushed like a pulverized fruit.

“P-Perfect pussy, you’re so fucking good.” He moans, sounding delirious.

His body is hard against your fleshy one, he revels in the way his armour makes you bounce and jiggle, how you take him so fucking well on the fucking floor. Shit, he won’t last long like this - you’re too good, you’re too good for him.

Mando paws at your tits, pulls at the flesh and gets lost in how soft and squishy they are as he pummels your poor pussy, squelching and spilling all over the both of you.

He swears he can smell you, even from underneath the helmet he swears he gets a whiff of your cunt, of your sweat, your skin. He wants to taste you so bad, lick every inch of you until there’s nothing left. Mando wants to devour you, he wants to keep you here, just for him to use like this. You’re too good, you’re too good at taking him, he can hardly believe it.

“Need you to cum.”

You nod your head, tears spilling into your hairline and Mando leans over you, gripping both your hands into his and holding them above your head, your legs wrapping high up around his waist.

Looking down, you watch him spear you over and over again without relent. Your world spins, it's thrown off kilter by the strength of his cock and you marvel at yourself for taking something that big inside of you. Mando’s thrusts are strong, deep and punishing, they’re fucking aggressive and you feel yourself tightening up at the mere sight of him - he’s huge, in every sense of the word.

It’s too much, he’s so much and your senses light up like a control board with nothing but him - nothing but Mando and before you know you’re crying out his name into the dead silence of hyperspace.

You pulse around him, suffocating his cock tighter than he thought possible and Mando’s head pounds in his helmet. He watches as you wither underneath him, fucking yourself on his cock as you work through your orgasm, moaning his name like it’ll bring you salvation - Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando.

For a split second he finds himself wishing it was his name, his real name that you were moaning, crying out like you’re wounded and you need him.

He imagines the way it would tumble off your lips, curl around your tongue and how it would taste to drink it from your mouth - Din, Din, Din.

Fuck - he’s cumming.

Mando doesn’t know why that did it for him, but he’s cumming. Feels his balls pull up tight and his cock twitches and pulses painfully hard and he’s drawing out of you and painting your tummy white with his seed.

You gasp when you feel his hot spend land on your heated skin, your eyes fly open and you lift your head to watch him jerk himself onto you.

He looks like a vision, a fucking pillar of silver, a monolith, towering over you. Except you’ve brought him to his knees, this fierce warrior, trembling as he finishes himself off, emptying himself onto your flesh instead of deep inside you. You can’t help but smile at him, drunk off of his cock as you watch him cum all over you.

“I have the implant.” You smirk, sitting up on your elbows now to admire his work.

“H-Huh?” He pants, chest heaving and cock still twitching. Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

“Could’ve cum inside me, Mando.” You tell him like you’re disappointed. You are.

Mando growls, lunging for you and groping your belly, smearing his seed into your flesh, painting you where he missed - your chest, breasts, collarbones, he rubs it as far as it’ll go.

He’ll offer you a shower once you’re both up, he tries not to think about what it would’ve felt like to cum deep inside your tight little pussy, how it would have seeped out around him, spilling out the sides and onto the floor along with the rest of your mess.

He would’ve fucked it deep, deep inside of you and watch you take it like the good girl you are.

Next time, he thinks. 

“Shut up.” He tells you.

//

Mando didn’t land in Nevarro like you thought he would.

Instead, you’re on another isolated, a far off one like you usually stick to - Kal’Shebbol.

You’re both quiet as you exit the Razor Crest, letting the noise of the planet fill in through your ears and Mando’s helmet as you walk towards the city.

The planet is nice enough, nicer than you’re used to actually. Tall and far off rolling hills and mountains which surround a modest city. It seems pretty modern from what you can tell as you approach it. Shining lights, even in the daytime, neon signs and loud bustle.

There’s crime here, you can tell, you can practically fucking smell it, you’ve become so familiar with its tang - you’ll do good here, that is… depending on what Mando’s got planned for you.

He doesn’t have you in cuffs, he’s not escorting you, you’re just simply… walking next to him and it’s confusing. You take a side glance at him and he just walks forward with a too-confident stride, seemingly not even worried about you.

So you let him walk with you, closer and closer to the border of the city before he slows down, ultimately coming to a halt. You keep walking however, testing him, wondering who will make the first move.

You make it about ten feet from him before he’s calling after you, your name never sounding so sweet. Stupid, you sound like a lovesick little girl. But you can’t help but smirk as you turn around to face him.

“I have to bring you in.” He calls out, yet there's no malice in his voice, no threat.

You smile at him, it feels genuine, you fucking devil. “Not if you can’t find me.”

Mando approaches you again with that saunter of his, like a true bounty hunter, a true threat. Fuck, why did he have to be so sexy?

Only you know that you had brought this Mandalorian down to his knees. You try to block the image of him on top of you, fucking you out of your mind only hours ago, making you cum harder than you ever had, painting you in his own spend.

Your soaked underwear sits wet and cold against your aching pussy, a painful and uncomfortable reminder of the mess you both made of each other.

When he’s gotten close enough to you, Mando tilts his helmet teasingly.

“You can’t outrun me, remember?” You know he’s smiling all smug underneath that helmet, you can hear it in his voice. It’s chilling and you shiver at the edge, the deep grit of his voice while your shoulder throbs at the memory.

“Well then I better get a head start.” You smile back, feeling hot underneath his gaze.

Grabbing his gloved hand into yours, you squeeze it tight, unable to say goodbye to him for some weird reason. You really don’t know him at all, you’ve only been with him for a day but you think you’ll miss his stoic quietness. Either way, you feel like this doesn’t merit a goodbye - he still has your puck.  

Mando stares in disbelief at your gesture, burning hotter and more embarrassed than ever, even though he was buried deep in your cunt only hours ago. He looks at your hand, engulfed in his and Maker, he doesn’t want to let go.

But he watches you drop his hand and walk away from him, lost to the crowd within seconds.

When he’s sure he can’t see you anymore, only then does Mando turn on his heel, heading back to his ship and back to Nevarro.

He tells Karga he had no luck finding you and manages to get another puck from him without much hassle. The new tracking fob takes him all the way out to Maldo Kreis to find some blue guy - as far away from you as possible.

Mando will take the long way getting back to you, hoping you stay out of trouble: from the Imps and the bounty hunters like him.

Your puck burns hot in his holster. It’s where he keeps you close, always on him until he tracks you down and finds you again.

[bokettochild]

Day 5: I've Got Red In My Ledger

Whumptober Day 5: Betrayal/Misunderstanding/Broken Nose

So, I ended up using all three options, and 'm honestly not sure if this counts as Warriors Whump, Four Whump or both.

I will excuse Legend's presence as being because I just wrote a Four and Legend one-shot and was still in Split Heroes mode.

Hope you read, enjoy, and don't hate me for what I've done, because I don't regret it :)

Warriors keeps staring at them.

The captain’s piercing royal blue eyes have been boring a hole into their back for ages and the ridiculous part of them worries that if they don’t keep moving that stare will bore a hole right through them. Thanks Red.

What? It’s a valid concern!

Red, when has having someone stare a hole through you ever been a valid concern?

Wild’s guardians.

Alright, but Wars isn’t a guardian, he’s-

He helped to build them. Red murmurs softly. Plus, he’s the Captain, I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to do something crazy after spending so much time jumping across worlds and learning stuff from the people there.

Red, we all jump through portals and learn things from across time. I think we’ll be okay.

“Four?” Legend’s voice is the one that breaks through to him as the vet stops in front of him, two bowls in hand and one offered to them as the vet cocks a brow. “Y’all okay?”

They smile at the vet, despite the itch of someone’s eyes fixed on them, and take the offered food. “I’m good, just thinking is all.”

“About what?” Legend presses, sitting next to them with curious cock of his brows as he begins to eat, violet eyes staring them down, piercing, but not as pointedly so as Warriors’ gaze. Legend’s eyes are gentle for once, and the vet seems to relax slightly as he eats, seated at their side and calmer than he’s been in days.

Four wishes they could feel the same.

They don’t regret sharing their secret with the vet (even if it wasn’t on purpose) and it’s nice to have someone to feel safe with, but no matter how warmly Legend might smile at them, a secretive wink or knowing smirk being shot their way, they’re still on edge.

“Nothing much, just...thoughts, you know?”

“No.” Legend deadpans.

They chuckle nervously. “Thinking about our different worlds and how we learn so much by hopping across them, you know? Like, Wild learning the recipes from your time or Wind getting to learn to ride horseback in Twilight’s world.” Th vet nods wordlessly, sucking on his spoon as they turn their attention to the meal Wild has so lovingly prepared.

Warriors still hasn’t looked away.

He’s been doing this for days, and usually, Four wouldn’t be worried, but it hadn’t started until after Shadow had helped them trip up an enemy in battle, and though the action probably saved the captain’s life, Wars hasn’t stopped watching them and it’s beginning to remind them of that time that Ezlo and them had been cornered by a cat in Pita’s Bakery. They still have the scar from that incident, and it’s something they guard the secret behind fiercely, if only out of shame of their own weakness and foolishness in that particular situation. Ezlo had warned them not to try darting away, to stay hidden in the sacks until the cat had been gone, but they’d rushed forwards and barely survived being made mincemeat.

Ezlo had needed stitches.

They had needed a minish healer and a bath in red potion. And even if they cover the worst of the scars beneath their tunic, the ragged tip of their left ear is a reminder. It’s why they chose to wear their earring, to remember to listen when the minish or the little voice in their head -or voices now- tell them to be careful. That voice, all four of them, is screaming at them to shield themselves.

And really, they should have listened.

Legend is on his feet in a moment, sword out to catch the second blow that falls their way as their ambusher grunts out an irritated oink.

“Ambush!” Wind shouts as the others pull themselves to their feet and grab hold of their weapons. They’d left their sword beside their seat, and from their place lying on the ground they can’t reach, but Shadow, Hylia bless him, sneakily pushes it close enough that they can wrap their fingers around the hilt and jump in to join the battle with their brothers.

It’s not a large group of monsters, and it doesn’t take much work between nine heroes and a sneaky shadow to fell them all, and they’re just turning to offer Wind a high five as the kid kicks the final lizalfoes off his sword when the cold of a blade presses against their throat.

“Warriors, what the bloody heck!” Legend shouts, jumping back up from where he’d been knelt to help Sky begin relighting their ruined campfire.

“Drop your sword.” The captain’s voice grates out behind them, cold and commanding in a way that sends shivers down their spine.

What’s going on?

The captain’s gone bonkers is what! Green, what’s the plan?

There’s only silence from their leader as the other deviants wait impatiently for an answer.

Green, we need a plan, War is-

Their sword clatters to the earth as the other colors begin to swear and panic, but Green has forced their hand, literally, and the stare they send their weapon is both resigned and horrified, one eye flickering various colors as the other remains solidly green.

Across camp, Legend’s own eyes are bugging out of his head, panic clear in his gaze as the vet’s hand closes on his sword hilt.

“Stay your hand, Legend.” Warriors rumbles, firm but not cruel. “No need for weapons-”

“Says the one holding a sword to Four’s throat!”

The captain doesn’t even shift, and their mind spins as they try and decipher what it is that the other man is doing or thinking, Red and Blue still screaming inside their mind as Vio murmurs various schemes about what they can do while Green sits in stony silence.

What were you thinking!

Green! We- what if- Red is nearly sobbing. Green, please! What are you doing?

Calm down. Of Green had his own body he’d be shooting them a rueful but reassuring look, and they can all feel it. This is a mistake or misunderstanding. If we listen and don’t make it worse, it can be cleared up faster.

Brilliant, might want to fill the vet and Old Man in on your plan though, and maybe Sky too, guys about to blow up.

They shoot a wary glance towards the Chosen Hero, careful not to move their head lest they press against the blade at their throat. Sky’s eyes are wide, but he’s still as a board and already falling into his ‘king stance’ as Legend calls it, shoulders back and jaw set with a grace and power behind his gaze that makes them shiver even more than the cool steel at their neck.

Or wait, that metal isn’t all cold, there's a bit of warm sticky stuff brushing their jaw and they nearly shiver again as they realize that Wars hadn’t even cleaned the monster blood off of his blade before trapping them.

“The smithy’s been lying to us.” Warriors grates out, cold and harsh and angry as the blade presses closer to their throat. They have to inch back a bit to avoid being cut, only to find themselves stumbling against the captain’s chest. “He may be a hero chosen by the goddesses, but he’s chosen his own path.”

“What do you mean?” Time’s voice is emotionless, stance unreadable and face carefully blank and it’s unsettling in the extreme, making the other young heroes draw back with wary looks as they glance from one to another of the adults, only Legend standing firm and furious as he glares across at the captain.

“Four’s working with the shadow.” The captain spits out, blade again pressing close to their neck. “I’ve been watching him, he’s either learned it's powers or the beast is here itself, but I know what I saw, he’s got a shadow helping him.”

The vet twitches. “Duh. Have you never read the Legend of the Four Sword?”

There are a few confused sounds from the others, but Four can’t bother to figure out what the others are all saying and doing as the steel presses sharp against his throat, leaving him pressed against Warriors’ armor-clad chest with no way to escape as something warm bubbles against the blade and crimson leaks down from the line the blade presses against him.

“Let him go!” Legend shrieks, hands already on his own blade as he darts across the camp, but Warriors, only draws Four closer, voice unbearable gentle and pained as he addresses Legend. “Vet, you’re not yourself. He’s messed with your mind, can’t you see?  It’s why you two have been so close all of a sudden, he’s put a dark spell n you, don’t give into it.”

“I’ll do what I bloody well want!” Legend screams in return, chest heaving as the tempered sword comes unsheathed, tip inches from Warriors’ face as Legend’s body begins to tremble. “Let him go, Captain.” The title is spat out like a curse, and Four can nearly feel Warriors’ shoulders sag as the man winces, but Legend doesn’t lower his blade even as Wars gently urges him to calm.

The others have started moving closer too, doubt on a few faces that makes their heart sink in their chest. Sky’s gaze is firm though as the Chosen Hero settles a hand on Legend’s shoulder. “Let him go, wars. If there’s a problem that needs addressing, we’ll address it like civil adults.” The words make hope flutter in their chest, but Warriors is only pressing closer, his blade digging in and making them whimper as blood dribbles into the collar of their tunic.

“Not a chance, Sky, he’ll get away, shadows are sneaky like that! They-” The captain is cut off suddenly, breath catching as the man wheezes behind them, his hand on the sword at their throat loosening its grip and giving them room enough to breathe again.

Legend takes the opening, whatever it is that caused it, to dart forwards, dropping his own sword and pulling at the captain’s sword arm hard enough that Sky can scoop them up into his strong arms and duck away, holding them close to his chest and giving them a full view of the shadowy hands that have wrapped around Warriors’ throat.

“I’d watch who you messed with if I were you, Captain.” Shadow hisses in the man’s ear before releasing him, zipping over to where they lay in Sky’s arms, startling both the Skyloftain and the vet, who’s already reaching for his weapon again as the shade stops to float over them. “Four, oh gosh Rainbow, are you okay?”

Good old Shadow.

Vi, we almost died, now’s not the time.

“All good.” They wheeze with a shaky smile, eyes darting up to Sky’s wary ones and then down to Legend’s steely indigo ones. Neither hero has made a move though, and for that Four is grateful.

A few paces away, Warriors is rubbing at his throat and staring in shock and horror at the shade that hovers over the trio of heroes who crossed him. They wince, this is not going to be easy.

“You’re bleeding.” Shadow hisses, nearly growls as his fangs glint in the glow of faded embers. “He- Oh Lolia no, this ain’t going down like this, not on my watch!”

Well Shadow’s managed to accidentally calm Legend at least, as the vet loosens slightly at the name of the Lolian Goddesses name, even if Sky still hold them tight like he thinks he’s going to have to run.

The shade looks up, away from them for a moment and salutes Sky with a knowing nod, all cockiness gone as from his demeanor as he addresses the Chosen Hero. “Thanks for sticking up for my idiot, feathers, watch him for a second while I handle this freak, yeah?” And Sky doesn’t even have time to speak or agree or even blink before Shadow has whizzed across the cam and sent one clawed fist slamming into Warriors’ face, a sickening crunch breaking the silence as Warriors stumbles, hand reaching for his face as Shadow wrings out his hand. “Thats for hurting my friend, you asshole!”

“Shadow.” Red’s wrested control as they flop against Sky’s chest. “That is not helping! You hurt Warriors!”

“He hurt you first!” The protective shade shouts back, crossing his arms and giving Wars his scary eyes before darting back to hover at Sky’s shoulder, much to the poor man’s surprise. “Racist jerk, what am I evil just because I’m a shadow? Never heard of shadow puppets as a kid? Or shadow dancing? Hey, guess what, you don’t need to think every freaking dark thing that moves is evil!”

Sky frowns, eyes straining as he stares at the being leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Four’s shadow, resident dragon master, smithy wrangler and protector of one stupid hero who thinks surrendering and keeping the peace is more important than keeping their hide in one piece.” Shadow pokes their shoulder pointedly at that, making them wince as Blue grumbles something about sharp claws.

“So, you are real.” Legend cocks his head, chest still heaving and cheeks still flushed as the vet visibly tries to force himself back under control. “Huh.”

Shadow turns, hovering mid-air and giving Legend a once over. The shade offers a strained grin, forced and brittle as he tries to distract them. “Rabbit huh? Nice. Rainbow’s always liked rodents. You the younger or older brother here?”

And even though all eyes are fixed on them, Warriors glaring and the others staring in disbelief, Four find themselves bursting into laughter because, of all things, of course Legend would apparently also have a shadow form, and the fact that it’s a rabbit is only making it worse. To their surprise, Sky’s laughter joins their own, and across camp, Twilight huffs a strained chuckle as Legend glares up at the floating shade.

“I told you!” Warriors wheezes, blood spilling down his face as he pulls himself up. “It's a shadow! Four’s working with Dark Link!”

Shadow hisses. “That nutcase? Are you kidding? I’d rather die again, thank you!”

And really, now is as good a time as any for them to explain. “He’s just a normal shadow, Wars. Yeah, Ganon and Vaati brought him to life, but he’s been helping me protect Hyrule since we freed him form their control. He’s on our side, he was just nervous about showing himself around all of you guys because we heard you all talking about your own shadows.” Their eyes are flickering violet as they stare at the captain, and they know it. “He’s not a monster, and he’s only a threat if you make him one, same as any of us.”

The captain moves to protest, only to have Hyrule clear his throat from the edge of camp, all eyes swiveling to the traveler as Hyrule nods slowly. “He’s telling the truth, the Legends of the Four Sword all say that the hero befriended and helped his shadow, and the shadow reformed and sacrificed himself to save Hyrule.”

“Exactly.” Legend squeak growls. “The only threat in this camp is someone who’s more willing to draw a blade on their comrade than to approach them with their concerns.” The words make Wars flinch, maybe more than the blow Shadow had landed to his face, and though the captain makes to speak, he's cut off once again by Legend’s harsh voice. “Don’t want to hear it, Captain. I’ve got my brother to help heal up after what you did to him.”

It’s like the mirror shattering all over again, the silence in the air as two parties are separated by a line none can see as Legend and Sky settle on the opposite side of the camp from the others, Shadow hovering over the vet’s shoulder as Legend turns his back on Warriors, dabbing gently at the cut on Four's throat with a cloth damp with red potions.

The captain stiffens, standing and turning on his heel to march towards the other end of camp.

Blue eyes never leave them as their three protectors hover and fuss over them.

[ynscrazylife]

Begging you to write a super angsty Nat x reader fix where the reader has a near death experience and has to deal with the ptsd after w Nat!!

You’ll Get Through This

Summary: After suffering a near death experience, Y/N develops PSTD symptoms and her girlfriend Natasha does her best to try and help her through it.

Trigger Warning: Being stabbed/near death

Note: I do not have PTSD. I have researched how to write characters with PTSD symptoms to write this accurately to the best of my abilities. I would never want for this to offend or hurt anyone so PLEASE let me know if my portrayal is offensive and I’ll fix or remove it.

When writing this, I did my best to accurately write symptoms of PTSD and triggers that I have researched. Here are some of the sources that I used: 1, 2, and 3.

* Thank you to @nyx-aira who nominated this fic for “Best One-Shot — Angst Fic” in The Tumbies 2021!

No one saw it coming. 

Literally. 

The Avengers were on a mission and they had been fighting some aliens. 

And one alien, apparently, had the ability to be invisible. 

One second Y/N had been fighting and the next she was letting out a bone-shattering scream as she fell, and an alien revealed themself, having stabbed her in the stomach with a sword. 

Natasha could never forget hearing her girlfriend mustering out a weak whisper over comms. Those desperate words would haunt her dreams forever.

“Guys . . . I’m down. Stabbed.” 

And then silence. She had passed out. 

Natasha lost it. She yelled. She cried. She ran as fast as she could and hissed out orders at everyone else. The fearless woman had never been so fearful. The woman who everyone thought was emotionless had never been so emotional. 

Of course anyone close to her would know that she was fearful and she did show her emotions, but they could never be prepared for this.

Days later, Y/N was stabilized. Weeks later, she was able to leave the hospital and stayed, resting, at the Avengers Tower ever since. 

Everyone was worried for her, especially Natasha. Y/N was numb to the world. She barley talked and when she did she was angry. Who or what she was angry with? No one knew. But she was angry. And normally, Y/N wasn’t angry. 

When Y/N had approached Natasha, saying that she had wanted to be in her own room rather than their shared room, Natasha respected her wishes. However, the redhead couldn’t deny that it broke her heart. All she wanted to do was help and support her girlfriend, but she also didn’t want to push her, so she let her be, let her move into her old bedroom. 

Everyone was trying and failing to think of ways to help their friend and teammate. Y/N was distancing herself from everyone and she refused to talk about what had happened. 

The Avenger was sitting in her old bedroom now, immersing herself in a book she always loved to read. However, she heard a knock on her door and it made her jump slightly. After a couple deep breaths, she quietly said, “Come in.” 

The door slowly opened and Natasha poked her head inside, offering her a warm smile in hopes of comforting her. “Hey. Do you have a minute to talk?” 

Y/N thought for a moment and nodded, putting her book aside. Natasha’s smile got a little bigger and she stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her. There was silence as she sat down on the bed next to Y/N. 

“I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing? If you need any support?” Natasha said softly. 

Y/N bit her lip and shook her head ‘no’, looking away. “I’m okay,” she murmured.

She missed the slight tears that welled in Natasha’s eyes before she blinked them away. “Y/N, I . . .” Black Widow hesitated before continuing. “I’ve dealt with PTSD. I know the symptoms and-” 

Y/N stood up, facing the wall and cutting her off. “I’m fine, Natasha,” she hissed. 

Natasha looked up at her, internally sighing. “I don’t want to push you. I want to be there for you if you’d like,” she started to say in a broken voice. 

Y/N turned around to face her girlfriend, enraged. For half a moment Natasha thought she was going to be yelled at and prepared herself to take it, but was surprised when something else happened. Y/N was clearly mad, but she was holding it back, and because she held it back, tears came instead. 

“I appreciate it and I know you don’t want to push me but I just can’t talk about this. I can’t think about this, Natasha. I’m trying not to think about how much it hurt and how I thought I was dying, okay? I know someone, maybe not you, but someone is gonna try and talk to me about it and I don’t want to remember it! It’s painful,” she interrupted, before letting out a noise of frustration and exhaustion, and walked out of the room, leaving Natasha speechless. 

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

A couple days after that, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner stood around a table in Bruce’s lab. That table had the sword that Y/N had been stabbed with, scrubbed of the blood. The two men wanted to study this sword, for it was unlike everything they’ve ever seen (it was alien, after-all). They also hoped it would give them information on the aliens they fought on their mission. 

“Tony,” Bruce said, staring down at the sword. The billionaire hummed, prompting the scientist to continue. “We've gotten everything we can out of this sword - it isn’t much. If we want to know more, we’ll need to ask Y/N.” 

Tony turned to him. “Y/N? What could she tell us?” He asked, confused. 

Bruce sighed. “She was the one who was stabbed with it. She got a good look, felt the, er, sword, and was the only one who saw the alien who stabbed her. Maybe she can help us find them? Or she can give us a hint on why the alien stabbed her if a different alien was fighting her?” He reasoned. 

The two Avengers shared a look, both conveying regret and hesitation. Despite wanting and, well, needing to know more information, they were reluctant to ask Y/N, and were doubtful she’d want to tell them much of anything.

After their silent conversation, Tony made a decision. “FRIDAY, please tell Natasha to come down to Bruce’s lab if she can,” he said to the A.I. 

Two minutes later, the redheaded spy appeared. She furrowed her eyebrows seeing her teammates, wondering what they needed her for, but her eyes widened when she saw that damned sword.

“What are you doing?” She asked accusingly, crossing her arms. 

“We need to talk to Y/N about the sword. Has she been talking to you?” Bruce asked. 

Natasha frowned. She sighed and opened her mouth to tell the men of what happened the last time she and her girlfriend spoke, when a voice interrupted them.

“Hey, Bruce, can I-?” All three Avengers turned around to see Y/N, entering the lab and in the middle of asking a question. She cut herself off abruptly, getting a clear view of the sword, and stared at it momentarily.

All those memories. All those memories she had ignored. She was now being forced to remember them, as that sword was right smack in front of her. 

She stumbled back, starting to breath in short, ragged breaths, and feeling the need to get out and get out now. She had to get away, away from the sword, away from the pain, away from the memories. You’d think she had superspeed with how fast she moved, practically running from the room and looking for any safe space. Subconsciously, Y/N went to that safe space. She went to Natasha’s room, formerly both of theirs, and sat on the bed, trying to calm herself or distract herself or do anything.

As soon as Natasha had seen her girlfriend there, and saw her face transform into that of like a deer in the headlights, and saw her turn around and run, she panicked. Turning back to Iron Man and Hulk, Black Widow ordered, “Get the sword out,” and followed her girlfriend. 

She kept going until she saw Y/N enter their bedroom and followed her in after, catching the door before it shut. She then carefully shut the door herself and focussed her undivided attention on the love of her life. 

Y/N sat on their bed, hands clamped on her head. Natasha could tell she was trying to take deep breaths and calm down, but it wasn’t working. She had shut her eyes closed, tightly, and Natasha lowered herself to be in front of Y/N and at her level. 

“Y/N,” Natasha said softly, gently cupping Y/N’s face. “Follow my breathing, okay?” 

She began to take deep breaths and after a few moments, Y/N did too. They kept that going for nearly five minutes until Y/N spoke up. 

“I’m so tired, Nat, and overwhelmed,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. 

Natasha nodded. “I know, love,” she said, and then moved to sit next to Y/N on their bed. “I’m sorry about our . . . what happened the other day. You’re going to get through this, though, okay? I’ll give you my full support if you want it. Whatever you need, whatever you want, I’m here for you.” 

Natasha wrapped an arm around Y/N who leaned into her arms, nodding. “I missed you,” she said. 

The former agent smiled, resting her chin on Y/N’s head. “Me, too. We can also find a therapist if you want it, yeah?” She said, and then added. “I love you.” 

Y/N smiled a little and nodded again. “I love you, too.”

[wizkiddx]

a friendly face

a lil one inspired from seeing the recent interviews abt cherry - yes im a couple days late but am very slow. This is basically stolen and adapted from another of my stories so I don't think there's any bits left over by my dyslexic proof reading isnt that great so apologies!!! very speech heavy so sorry am trying to balance my writing more

Summary: Tom is having a hard time filming Cherry and dealing with the emotional baggage of it, so Harry recruits someone to make everything that little bit better.

tomhollandxreader

fluff and a little angst I guess?

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Harry, Tom and their driver Sian where all sitting in the car having left the set 20 minutes ago, heading back to their accommodation. Or more precisely, Harry and Sian sat in the two front seats- Harry only in the front as to allow Tom to lie down across the three back seats. He was asleep, or at least looked asleep, but Harry knowing his brother so well knew he was just wishing he was. The day had been torturous for Tom, they’d been filming a hospital sequence in which his character was heart broken. The sequence had involved him being thrown onto the floor multiple times, by a heavy handed stunt double who was not nearly as precise as those he’d worked with at ‘marvel’. Furthermore, there was also multiple scenes of him having to properly cry on camera, which although it sounds tame, is one of the hardest things you can ever ask an actor to do. At least, someone who commits half as much as Tom. For him to show that emotion, he had to go back to a place in his life where he didn’t really ever want to venture again. But even then, this character was such a fuck up, he had to do deeper.  He felt completely drained, emotionless and cold. But he couldn’t sleep, not for the guilt he felt for being short with everyone on set- he had never been like that before, he just felt like no one was respecting or understanding what he was going through. So instead he just lay on his side, facing the backs of the leather seats, arms folded in stubbornness- even if he had no idea why.

“Tom?…Tom, I know you’re awake… Look, we need to make a quick stop. You gotta come out.” Harry was actually slightly nervous his brother would just point blank refuse, even if he needed this so bad.

“I just need to get back to the apartment. Please Harry. Can’t we do it tommorrow?” The desperation dripping off Tom’s voice actually pained Harry to listen to. He knew Tom was having a crisis about how he treated everyone today, so chose to ignore his please in favour of some assurance.

“You know everyone understands… They just kept asking me if you were alright?” Harry could see the guilt radiating off Tom. It hurt him to see his big brother like this. 

“Please… I just need to get back” His small voice barely made it to the front of the car, but Harry heard it all. 

“It will take 2 minutes tops, I had a delivery but I need a hand carrying it, come on” Harry spoke as Sian turned on the indicator to pulled up next to the sidewalkpavement; the car slowing to a gentle halt. Tom didn’t reply, instead huffing as he used the head rest of the middle seat to pull himself up. Already out the car, Harry opened the door for him waiting patiently, because Harry knew he would be a hundred times better off in just a few moments. 

“What the hell have you even ordered that’s so big?” Tom sighed while ducking through the door into the cold Cleveland air, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as Harry motioned for him to follow his feet. 

“Oh um don’t know, a good friend sent it actually” Harry tried to hide the grin that was spread over his face from showing in his voice, as he saw a very familiar head of hair running toward them.

“What friend?” Tom looked up sassily toward Harry, shortly questioning who would send Harry a parcel from England that was too big to be delivered or carried by himself. Only then, nearly 5 metres away from Sian in the car, did Tom look up to see where they were. It wasn’t the nearest post office or delivery warehouse - they were at the airport. “Harry what’s going on?” Tom questioned with a low and warning voice, skipping a step or two in order to catch up with his younger brother. 

“We’re collecting her” Harry smiled as he nodded forward. Following his gaze with eyes wide open, Tom turned forward just in time to see Y/h/c  flying over his face as he was engulfed by someones arms. Immediately sensing exactly who this was, Tom did not hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist and push his head into your neck. Smelling the familiar perfume, Tom couldn’t help but scoff, allowing a the jerky breath to leave his lungs as you arched away from the hug, cupping Tom’s face with both her hands. 

“I’ve been reliably informed you could use a friendly face” you smiled, noticing his raw emotions threatening to overtake him, so swiftly pressing just pressing your lips onto his. Seemingly frightened to move, Tom barely reacted to the kiss, so you pushed and deepened into it a little more- till you felt him relaxing against you. With that, you arched away again and smiled massaging his stubbly hair behind his left ear.

“How are you here?” He croaked staring deeply at her, switching between her left and right eye as if that somehow would confirm that this was real, not some cruel dream he was having. 

“Someone somewhere knew you were in need and bought me a plane ticket over… I’m coming home with you on monday” You grinned while  watching Tom’s eyes light up, he leaned in again to your lips instead of replying. 

“Er-cuh-huh” Harry loudly cleared his throat, causing the two to pull away from each other. “Sorry to interrupt, but Sian isn’t really allowed to stop there long sooo” They both nodded, before Tom lunged at his brother, holding him close and whispering thanks too. It was clear this was at least partly Harry’s doing, and he could never thank his brother enough.

“Umm.. as much as I’m enjoying this brotherly love we really do have to get back in the car” Harry awkwardly spoke as he almost pushed Tom off him. 

“Awww my favourite little brother being all mature” You giggled, taking your turn to hug Harry, admittedly a little shorter than Tom’s, but still with lots of gratitude.

“Please get stop loving me and get back into the car!” Harry yelled as he stormed off to Sian, leaving both you and Tom in fits of laughter. Grasping each others hand simultaneously the laughter continued as you followed Harry down the street to the car. 

Seeing you standing there; feeling your arms wrapped round his neck ; hearing your oh so sweet voice had Tom feeling…. Feeling lighter. It was as though your mere presence gave him the strength to carry all the things that were previously weighing him down like a truck. What was extraordinary though, was how it wasn’t just psychological. He literally felt his joints feel looser, he felt his body flood with warmth and he felt his heart calming down. When you’d first been getting close to each you’d had rather the opposite effect. Which was surprising because that was at the point Tom had never felt more confident - he had just returned form a avengers press tour, where naturally everyone had just loved him and played up to his every whim. He had legions of girls, some of them drop dead gorgeous where falling at his feet. And yet, when he met you it was as though he was transported back into his incredibly awkward teenage years. It was infuriating, he knew he could act cool and unbothered and smooth however as soon as you stood informant of his it was like his mind melted, filling it with utter gibberish and garble. In fact, he was plainly floored by you - how kind and pure hearted you were, how respectful and how you found hhis jilted flirting adorable and not to forget how drop dead gorgeous you are. 

It had taken a while and a hell of a lot of opening up, but over time he found the opposite happening. Your presence became something else entirely, not one that would put him on his toes and have his heart racing - more of a comfort. He slept better when you were beside him, his nerves never got the better of him if you were there to cheer him on. He could relax completely without any fear of judgement, any worry at all with you. What you had done is change the definition of something so fudemental and a given in life. You’d changed home from a place to something much more intangible. A person; a feeling; a connection. You were his home.

“Sian are we close?” You asked, turning your attention away from the two brothers annecdotes from filming, realising Sian must’ve been driving for about 30 minutes. 

“Yep just the next right I think” Sian replied gently while turning the wheel as the indicator clicked.

“Where are we going?” Tom asked, looking first at you then pleadingly at Harry- knowing he had more of a chance with his brother. 

“Well” You started and he whipped his head back round “I know it’s late and you’ve been working all day, but you have alater  10 o’clock call time tomorrow instead of 6, so this is the best night to do something. We found a driving range-with heaters” which was a very important factor since Cleveland was bloody freezing “- that we thought you’d like to play a game or two?” The massive smile in response meant you’d hit the nail on the head.

“And soz but I’m crashing the game otherwise- and no offence, but you would win waayyyy toooo easy Tom” Harry butted in and sniggered as he interrupted the lovey-dovey stares. You gasped at that in mock offence, holding your hand over your chest. 

“Oi you, Paddy has been teaching on the Holland boys days out you both missed- I’ll have you know I now am aware that you have to get the ball into the hole, not a goal as previously thought.”

The boys both groaned in unison and Y/n wiggled her eyebrow grinning, elbowing Tom slightly in the side. “Things might have changed since you left you know?”

Yet another thing Tom loved so completely about you, was how effortlessly you had fitted into his family. Honestly, none of the Hollands could imagine life without you anymore - especially Nikki, who had quite literally attempted adopting you so she officially wasnt the only female in the immediate family. Sam used you as an expert taster for all his marvellous culinary creations (even if your judgement was always the same, it was very good); Dom often ended up picking your brains about your work, he found you ‘actual proper’ job as a doctor simply amazing , where all his family had never been especially acadmeically gifted; and Paddy just plain saw you as his older sister. So it was hardly surprising at all that when two of their actual kids flew across the world , you’d been the obvious placeholder. Yes, golf was most definitely your forte - but you were enthusiastic, with a positive (if flightily misguided) give it a go attitude. 

The try-try-and-try-again attitude that never really worked … until Paddy taught you how to hit a clean drive.

“I am not joking, I am asking the lady at the desk there’s no way!” 

“Tom you are the worst looser I have ever met! I didn’t cheat, I’ve just taken up a new hobby”

“There is no way Tom… no way she can get that good” Harry huffed as he ran straight past you to catch up with Tom, making sure that you did see the harsh glare he shot him. The outrage that Y/n had beaten them both at the driving range was way worse than anything you could’ve predicted- now you sort of were wishing you’d let them win. Oh wait…. Of course you weren’t  - this was priceless. Especially their faces when you’d launched your first ball super accurately inn the centre of the second furthest away target. They had reacted as if you had just stripped butt naked, you thought; standing their jaws hanging with a look of almost fear in their eyes.

“You could see the balls land with your own eyes! Practice makes perfect!”

“Thats not fair though! It took you like 8 weeks to be like that?”

“I mean you were obviously just taught by the wrong Holland, Paddy’s a  pretty good teacher!” You smiled as your trio turned the corner and walked through reception, seeing Harry desperate to ask the receptionist but Tom just looking over his shoulder to give a hurt look to at you.

“I’m going to ban you from being closer to my brothers than me”

“I can’t help if he’s cuter then you alright?” You smirked and raised an eyebrow, as Tom stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

“That’s it… your gonna get it” he spoke in a low voice, with a mischievous look in his eye, abruptly he launched himself at you -  barely having  time to swerve away from him and start a sprint towards the exit, giggling as you took a glance back to see Tom chasing you out, Harry quickly in tow too. 

“Your not allowed to beat me at golf!” In a jokey voice, you heard Tom yell, just as you reached the sleek black 4x4 and hurdling yourself into it. 

“I’m in the car it’s a no fight zone!” You cowered in the corner,back pressed up against the opposite door and  arms crossed to make an ‘x’ sign in front of her body. 

“That is not how it works” Tom and Harry grinned from the open door. As fast as lightning they both vaulted in and started tickling you, making you screech curses at the two of them.

“Alright alright kids, no fighting while I’m driving thats an order.” Sian calmly spoke, trying to hide the laughter from her voice, as the two men retreated and helped to pull you up from the position half on the floor that your squirming had gotten you to. 

“Get off my leg Tom… arghhh… thanks Sian, I’m sorry they’re so moody, I just whipped their asses at golf”

“You’re here to make me feel better right? Not doing a good job so far” Tom’s snide remark meant you scrunched up your nose while plugging her seatbelt in, making sure to jab Tom’s side hard as you did so.

“How did I end up sandwiched in between you two twats then?” You grinned from the middle seat as Harry just rolled his eyes looking out the window, and Tom gave you a loving smile- not able to hide his relief of your presence.

“Think it’s about a 40 minute drive you gotta enjoy” Sian smiled looking at you via the rear view mirror, to which Tom couldn’t quite stifle the yawn that escaped. 

After all he had done much more than the typical 9-5 hours work, and the golfing was an unexpected addition to the already long day. His excitement and just pure joy at having you here had made him forget about It all for a couple of hours - but now his exhaustion was catching up with him with a vengeance. Instinctively you wrapped you arm round Tom and in doing so pulled him into your side. 

“Get some rest huh?” You whispered into his forehead, and all Tom could do was reply with a weary nod, letting his eyes slip close to the constant beat of Ally’s heart. You immediately sensed Tom was properly out of it, and contented yourself looking out his window for a few minutes,  before you felt something heavy briefly whack your other shoulder. Jumping a little at the contact, you looked round to see Harry’s head bobbing side to side in a light slumber. In the midst of worry for Tom, you hadn’t realised the kid had been doing the same long hours as him. Plus dealing with Tom and being Tom’s support, which surely took it out of him. Harry had always been ‘the most important brother’ in your eyes. Just because Tom trusts him so implicitly and completely, they had an understanding only real brothers could get to but also extended far beyond blood. When you’d first been introduced Harry had been colder to you. It wasn’t personal though, he just wanted to be sure on you and your intentions with Tom because as he well knew often when people saw Tom they didn’t just see an opportunity for love. It was an opportunity for a lifestyle, for fame, for relevance. Harry took a while before he trusted you but now you were miles and miles beyond that point. So now, being at a stage with Harry where he was phoning you to come and fly out to save Tom (and him too). It was not to be taken lightly.  Therefore, you gently pressed your hand to Harrys face and pushed him to lean against her other shoulder too- hoping to cure the dark circles under his eyes a little bit too. 

You were quite content for the rest of the journey, feeling warmth radiate through your body as the two men breathed deeply and calmly either side of you. You sort of didn’t want the car journeyer to end - but sure enough it wasn’t long till Sian was pulling into the hotel entrance.

“Get you a girl that can do both, beat yo ass at golf and look after your family” Sian whispered as she handed the phone back to you, after having taken some of your favourite ever photos, the 2 boys asleep on your shoulders while you pulled a variety of different faces. Smiling back at Sian, you then sighed-knowing she had to wake the two up, given their exhaustion you didn’t really want to either. 

“Boys…boys… hey let’s get you both into bed yeh?” You spoke softly, gently raising your shoulders in order to disturb them both. Harry’s head immediately shot up, his eyes puffy and half open, but a sheepish look on his face as he realised how he was sleeping. Just responding with a smile that said it was all okay, before  you turned her attention to Tom- forever stubborn to wake up, at least nothing had changed there. 

“Come on Tom, can’t have you sleeping in the car all night” You pushed again, this time lifting Tom’s head, earning a very deep groan as his eyes slid open and he pushed against the movement. It was at this point Harry slammed the car door shut, making Tom jump out of his skin, you loosing the hope of any serene wakeup call. Rubbing Toms arm, relaxing the tension now present in his body you encouraged him once again. “Come on lets get inside mister” 

His hotel room was exactly what you’d expect for an a-lister and lead actor in a million pound film. Large, modern, squeaky clean and posh. It was almost too big to be filled by one person though, Tom had always found it a bit cold and just not cosy - why he opted to spend the majority of his down time either fast alseep or in somebody else’s company. Both of those also stopped him getting too much in his head - or more accurately in his characters head. Cherry was a weird character and from interviewing all the veterans and lengthy discussion of his past, Tom almost felt as if he had in some small way experienced what Cherry had. Felt what Cherry did. Thought like Cherry did. 

And that was a sure fire way to fuck yourself up.

Now, with you here in his room haphazardly digging through your case, if felt warmer. The cold but brilliant white lights seemed to have softened to a gently warm glow that bounced off your skin and made your figure look almost angelic to Tom. You were his home. 

“What are you waiting for?” You mused while turning away from your (now) inside out suitcase, proudly carrying her pyjamas which you had found hidden at the bottom the whole time- not the most practical packing in the world. All the while Tom sat on his bed, back leaning against the headboard and arm bent behind his head too.

“Just thinking that I need to go through all the scenes for tomorrow” A monotonous tone laced his voice, for he knew he couldn’t spend the night the way he really wanted to, safely wrapped up with you.

“Oh… well let’s go through it together then hey? We will be done in no time; but if you want we can go over them again tomorrow morning.” It was a practical suggestion, a helpful action you could implement - even if you had a feeling Tom wouldn’t just agree. Since his lines clearly weren’t the only thing on his mind this evening. 

“Yeh but everyone on set is already sick of me after today… I can’t be being shit as well as horrid” his voice was small as the memory of how he snapped at some of the extras had him cringing inwardly at himself. He shouldn’t have been that rude, shouldn’t have blurted it out, should of offered a solution rather than just critiquing.

“Hey would you kindly shut it? No one is sick of you, everyone is just ready for christmas and missing their families. Now get changed” Your soft tone turning into an imperative order, as you threw his pyjama bottoms at the him, smashing into his face before falling into his lap.

“Oi” he shouted, but followed instructions and stood up reaching round to pull his hoodie off. Stood shirtless, his side was exposed to the now changed you, the sight making you gasp and clamber over the bed to gently touch Tom’s back. You followed the outline of an impressive patch of bruising, stretching from the bottom edge of his shoulder blade all the way to his hip. 

“Tom, what the hell happened?” Whispering in fear, Tom turned round to face you, seeing your eyes watering up as you kept glancing at his back. He was littered in a variety of purple, yellow and slightly green marks on the whole of his left flank. It looked like a minor crush injury, not something a pampered actor gets after a day of filming infront of tens of people including an onset medic and health and safety risk assessor. 

“What?” Tom asked before turning to the mirror and looking back over his shoulder to see the bruises for himself. He hadn’t expected the ache to look that bad. “oh - I - er… Today the scene, I get smashed to the floor by someone and I kept doing it wrong so we had to do it lots I guess.” He looked away and down at your feet, not being able to meet his girlfriends eyes suddenly. You just nodded, trying to blink back the tears-  he had truly been broken by this role both physically and now mentally- he hadn’t even put a stop to the constant and clearly severe pain. 

“Put your stuff on” your  voice was muted, as you waited for Tom to get prepared. He turned around again and then replaced his trousers and quickly pulled a top on to hide the marks, suddenly embarrassed. In the silence the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor, then of him sitting on the bed again- throwing his legs over so now he mirrored your position - the sounds were pretty defeaning.

“I love you so much….” Barely whispering, you suddenly ripped the duvet out from under you both holding it over you as you swung a leg over Tom so you straddled him, slightly leaning over him and letting the blanket rest on top of your back.In your position you looked down in an almost scary way to his warm brown eyes. Tom swore you were literally reading his thoughts, your intense gaze absolutely crumbling any walls he thought he’d be able to hold up. Pressing a gentle peck to his lips you then whispered onto his lips, letting him feel your words as well as hear them. “ …So that’s why we are going to sleep right now and you can worry about all of that tomorrow”

“Y/n I-“

“Your safe with me.” You were not standing for his nexuses and arguments, as you slid down his body - ending with your head resting on his chest, you legs tangled with his. Once you’re properly rested you’ll learn them ten times faster than what you can now… Before you get ill I am telling you to take a break. I’m not going to let you not. So relax and-….Tom?” Ending with a whisper, you delicately lifted your head off his slowly rising chest to see your broken boyfriend already asleep; lips parted as soft snores crept through the silence. In reality as soon as you’d said that he was safe the exhaustion had completely over taken him. Desperately needing to recharge his batteries, no matter how much he had wanted to stay up and work late it could never really happen - at this point physically impossible.

“Sleep well Tom” she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek with a sad smile.

///////////////////////////////////////////

The next day rolled around all too quickly, but the morning was much better than any of the past couple of months because you were together. Tom, having had a solid 7 hours of sleep compared to his normal 5, was for once ready for the day. He’d gone through the script with a certain someones help in record time, and now the three were just pulling up at the set. 

“You’ve been awful quiet this car ride…” you grinned as she clasped Tom’s hand across the empty seat, making Harry turn around and give you a warning glance. Oops. In a moment where Tom went to the loo at breakfast, Harry had fully disclosed everything that had happened on set yesterday- especially the  burst of anger. So naturally, Tom was feeling nervous and scared to face everyone. 

“It will be fine I promise… and if not tell them I’m your personal body guard- no one will be rude to you if me and Harry are ready to attack” Tom let out a breathy nervous laugh, only then meeting your eyes.

“ A fly wouldn’t be threatened by you two. Harry would just take a photo while you’d check their pulse or something”

“Errrm” Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he contorted round from the front seat so Tom could see his disapproving look, meanwhile Tom was dodging your affectionate fake-slaps.

“Children we’re here” Sian sighed as she brought the car to a steady halt “and if you could get through the day without killing each other I’d appreciate it, otherwise I’m out of the job”

“Not promising anything when I’ve got these pair to deal with” Tom grinned as he opened the car door, before anyone else could retaliate.You laughed before quickly following suit, joining Tom at the front of the car and interlocking your fingers with Tom’s. Hesitating for a moment Harry took a second before unplugging and leaning for the door handle.

“You see what I mean?” Turning his head to look at Sian “It’s sickening how happy they are.”

“Yeh but your glad about it don’t lie” she grinned, before practically shooing the poor boy out her car.

“But dont tell them!” Shouting in reply, as the car was already pulling out. 

Tom’s body seemed to tense more the closer you walked to the crew tent, you could feel the way he squeezed his shoulders back and his jaw tensed and untensed. There was little you could do apart from squeezing his hand that little bit tighter - further reiterating the fact you would always always be in his corner. Perhaps the most telling about Tom’s own character was how truly guilty he felt for the way he was with the crew. Normally, he was one of the most down to earth actors around - no trace of an ego or superiority complex. It didn’t matter if you were a cleaner or head of a multimillion dollar studio, Tom would pay both the same amount of respect. He always out that completely down to his upbringing and mum and dad, but even that was being humble. He was just a good person to the core, no one saw that more than you either. It’s part of love, you see the good and the bad parts of a person and promise to unashamedly love them all. 

Just before you both had made it into the main tent, Tom was pulled away. “Oh Tom we wanted to talk to you about yesterday!” The familiar voice of Joe Russo called, as he and Anthony  ran up to Tom from his left, giving a little nod of greeting to the actor, before falling in step with him.

“Morning, I-uh I wanted to apologise actually-“Tom was cut off while you hung back off to his right, not wanting to intrude on this conversation.

“No we should. The team were all being slow yesterday, and they were making some hard scenes harder on you. We really appreciate what you are putting yourself through for the sake of the film.”

“But still I acted like a brat and I’m sorry”

“Tom” Anthony spoke up for the first time. He was a man of limited words- but whenever he spoke everyone listened. “ You are one of the best, most-dedicated actors we’ve ever worked with. We’re all overtired, run down and ready for the holidays. You’re missing your family too. It’s already forgotten… So let’s just get on with the movie?” Tom smiled, pressing his lips together to stop their kindness overtaking his emotions. Tom always felt safe with the Russo’s. They’d dealt with him when he really just was a kid actor - overwhelmed and without a clue what was happening. They’d dealt with hiM adjusting to fame and the much bigger part Marvel seemed to want him to play in the future. They trusted him with this, most incredibly complex and also personal film for them. So when they spoke and they said it didn’t matter, Tom was much more likely to agree.  Then proceeded the bro-hugs, as the men all showed they were good with each other. 

“Well lets make a motherfucking movie!” Tom exclaimed once they broke the hug and the brothers laughed at him. “Oh where-d….” He muttered as he looked round before meeting your eyes, still standing rather awkwardly a couple of meters behind them. “ Joe, Anthony you remember Y/n?” Nodding and smiling the brothers beckoned you over; both greeting you with a warm handshake. 

“Good to see you again!” You grinned and the directors responded nodding.

“We didn’t know you were coming! I would’ve made a list of all my doctor question for you.” Joe winked, knowing your pet-peeve was people asking you all their gory body questions as soon as they found out she was a doctor. You didn’t need to know about you dentists acid reflux issue, you didn’t need to know about your granny’s friend’s constipation, and you really really didn’t need to know about an old friends erectile dysfunction.

“Ha ha ha “ You rolled your eyes sarcastically “ and no it was a bit of a spontaneous trip, I just landed last night.” Throughout the whole of the exchange Anthony had taken an aloof stance, just  observing you and Tom. Observing the bright smile Tom gave you, even when you were simply making small talk. The way he looked so much healthier, well rested and just happy, in the space of a single evening.

“I’m glad you’re here” Anthony basically interrupted the conversation, addressing you then immediately turning on his heel towards the set. 

“Uhh right- get to make up we’ll call a cast meeting in a bit” Joe stammered, giving his brother a funny look before addressing Tom “ and we’ll have to have a proper catch up later.” You nodded in response, as Joe turned and did a half jog to catch up with his brother. 

“That was weird!?” You frowned as you looked up at Tom. He explained the encounter in rather simplistic terms.

“That was Anthony.”

The morning was spent with Tom doing what he does best in front of the camera. They were shooting a larger scene for the army section of the movie, with at least 100 actual soldiers as extras, all geared up in full camo outfits. It was impressive, but also gave you a chance to meet Ciara - you’d been dying to meet her since Tom told you what a laugh she was. Fair to say you weren’t disappointed at all, you guys hitting it off instantly and you going as far as giving Ciara some embarrassing Tom stories that she could wind him up with in the future. Of course though, the main attraction was seeing Tom act first hand. Every time it astounded you, even though you knew that face so completely, in all his movies he fully had you believing he was someone else. It was mesmerising and you couldn’t be any prouder. 

“You’re amazing! I seriously forgot how good you are!” You ran over as Joe Russo called cut to the end of the morning shoot. 

“Well er thanks I guess” Tom furrowed his eyebrows as you wrapped him in a hug. He’d just canned a pretty hard scene and everyone was more than ready for a lunch break. You’s been watching from behind the cameras with Harry the whole time, after Tom gave you permission to sit in his special set chair.

“Seriously I’m very…. “ Her speech broken with an impressive yawn “….very proud of you.” In thanks Tom gave you a kiss first to your nose and then lips. 

“I take it someones not adapting to jet lag?” He chuckled as he pulled away and cupped your face in his hands.

“Which I’m totally ashamed about considering I work night shifts… my body clocks supposed to be better than this” Angrily, you vented, frustrated at your own body when all you wanted to do was stays within reaching distance of Tom. Even if Tom had had the best sleep of this whole shoot last night, you’d been to over excited and enthralled just absorbing every little thing about him that you’d missed so much that you’d been wide awake the majority of the night. If you blamed you fatigue on jet lag alone, it would be an impressive lie. 

“Go take a nap in my trailer… Harry can you take her?”

“Yes master” Harry bowed down and wobbled his head sarcastically, making you giggle. 

“At least this way you get a break from him” You grinned to Tom’s brother, which Harry could only agree with. Giving Tom a parting kiss , you followed Harry away from set. It was at this point that Anthony excused himself from the monitors reviewing the footage, and approached Tom.

“Kid… that was great that scene.”

“Thanks mate, means a lot” Getting his directors approval forever reassured Tom, letting him relax his shoulders a bit as he nodded gratefully to Anthony. 

“Well it’s just truth… so your girlfriend, Y/n right?”

“Yeh that’s her” Tom nodded, suddenly a little concerned as to where Anthony was going with this. You had met the Russo’s a number of times, and it never before seemed as though Anthony had an issue with you- at least to Tom’s knowledge.

“Right well um… you know how I don’t really get involved in all this stuff…” Tom nodded, folding his arms apprehensively. “But I just thought I should say that she’s really good for you.” Tom silently breathed a sigh of relief and waited for Anthony to get to the point. “Joe told me you had a rough patch at the beginning of the year so… I don’t know our industry is hard. And harder for you and her in the spotlight… Just seeing you with her today…Don’t be afraid to take the next steps with her…Don’t let her get away.” Tom was stunned to say the least. Anthony is the last person he had ever expected to get relationship advice from. 

“I um yeh… I don’t know I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean we’ve been together for 2 and a bit years, well including the break… she means the world to me-“

“Well don’t waste it”

And that was the end of the conversation. Anthony turned to his trailer to get lunch and Tom just stood, replaying the conversation in his head. Weird to say the least. 

But it did get the cogs turning. It did get Tom really seriously considering his future. Or rather considering your future together.

And that was for certain. It was you and him, always. 

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Three

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Language, Injuries, INTENSE SMUT (NONCON), GUNPLAY, HUMILIATION, DEGRADATION, NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, Major MENTAL HEALTH TRIGGER, 

Word Count: 3.5K

A/n: Oof sorry. This is dark as fuck. it’s really triggering. If you complain I will block you because I have many warnings in place. This is a very triggering chapter that involves very sensitive and triggering topics so read at your own damn risk!

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

~

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!! READ AT OWN RISK!!

~*~

He doesn’t look at you the next morning.

You’re thankful for that because you don’t think you’d be able to withstand seeing him without crying.

Your neck is dark and covered in bruises, and your wrists look no better, the skin discoloured to a near-black colour. It hurts to breathe, to walk. Your lower regions burning with each step you take. You’re part glad he doesn’t look at you, but you’re also frustrated.

He said he wasn’t a monster and yet look what he’s done to you. Your body is broken and bruised and beat badly, and he doesn’t even have the stomach to look at the damage he’s caused.

You stay in your room for most of the day anyway, in far too much pain to venture anywhere except the kitchen for a glass of water which does little to soothe the burn in your throat.

As you sit there, alone on the mattress that holds disgusting memories, you ponder what Fury said yesterday about the fine print in the email. Surely you would have seen any more writing. You wouldn’t have just accepted the position without being properly informed of everything that you were going to have to do.

But it seems to be too late. If last night was any indication of your fate, you almost understand why they gave you little to no warning.

He was barbaric. Brutally taking advantage of your body, and thwarting your attempts to get him to be gentler.

A knock on your door startles you from your thoughts. It opens quietly and the man who’s been occupying your thoughts walks in with his head down.

“I uh... I brought you some soup. You haven’t eaten all day.” You stare at the steaming bowl held in his metal hand. The same hand that crushed your wrists.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell him, voice barely above a whisper. He looks up at you and swallows hard, eyes zeroing in on the dark marks on your neck. He lets out a shuddering breath and nods.

He opens his mouth to speak but snaps it closed again, setting the bowl down on the dresser then leaving the room.

The soldier doesn’t come to you that night.

Or the night after.

On the fourth day, three nights of him not coming to you, you finally venture out of your room. You nearly run right into his chest as he opens the door to talk to you. He grabs your waist to stop you from toppling over then pulls back as if you’ve scalded him.

“I’ve got a mission briefing to go to. I’ll be gone for most of the day,” he informs you, voice hard and emotionless. You simply nod and watch as he leaves the house in a hurry. When you’re sure he’s gone, you creep down the stairs and into the kitchen, stomach cramping for food.

You find a few pieces of bread and some crackers on the counter, along with a note that says ‘Dinner will be ready shortly after I get home.” You take the crackers and shovel them into your mouth, not caring about how much they dry your throat. They go down like sandpaper, and you wash them down with a glass of water, finally silencing your growling stomach.

With the house to yourself, you explore, your feet taking you to another bedroom upstairs.

It must be his, you realize, eyes finding a small, leather-bound notebook. You look around the room quickly then snatch the book up and sit down on his bed, eyes devouring the words scrawled carelessly on the pages.

Horror fills you as you read, each page giving detailed descriptions of the horrible things this man has done.

You find yourself terrified for your life once more as you realize just how quickly he could end it. It would simply be another life to him, nothing he cares about considering how many he’s taken already.

You put the book back and leave the room, running to the front door and banging on it mercilessly, hoping to catch the attention of someone passing by.

~*~

“Tincan!” Bucky groans and looks up as Tony walks to him. “Relax. I’ve got a gift for you.” He hands over a tablet and Bucky furrows his brows in confusion.

“So you can watch your little pet. I hooked it up to all the cameras in your house, so you can keep tabs on her. Before you ask, Fury’s not all that good at keeping secrets.” Bucky makes a mental note to talk to Fury about keeping this off the radar, but for now, he’s curious to see what you’re doing.

He accepts the tablet with a soft ‘thank you’ then quickly turns it on, flipping through the different camera feeds until he finds you.

You’re banging a lamp from your bedside table against a window in your room, tears on your cheeks. You look hopeless.

He toys around with the tablet for a while until he finds a rewind button, wanting to know what has you so desperately wanting to escape.

He stops it from rewinding when he sees you sitting on his bed, his journal in your lap.

The pieces click into place and he shakes his head, angry that you would invade his privacy like that and pissed at himself for not putting it away.

“Listen Stark, I’ll come back later to be briefed. I’ve gotta go... deal with something.” Tony nods and watches as Bucky walks away, his heart aching for you but he knows that there’s nothing he can do to help you.

Bucky pulls up to the house and throws the front door open, the ride over giving him plenty of time to stew in his anger.

He slams the door shut behind himself and stomps up the stairs to your room, kicking the door open and staring at you. You hold the lamp tightly in your grasp and turn to him slowly, terrified at the dark look in his eyes.

“You need to learn some respect!” He spits the word and marches over to you, grabbing the lamp with his left hand when you swing it at him. He throws it to the ground and grabs you by the jaw, tossing you onto the bed. You crawl backwards, shaking your head at him desperately.

He grabs your ankle and yanks you down the bed, then flips you onto your stomach. He tears your pants and panties down your legs and starts slapping your ass. Hard.

You scream in pain as he punishes you, slapping again and again and again, each one being harder than the last.

By the time he finally lets up, your ass is on fire, skin bruised and burning. He grabs you by the hair and tugs, forcing you up onto your hands and knees.

You’re trembling on the bed, terrified of what he’s going to do to you.

“You’ve been bad,” he whispers, dragging something cool across the skin of your ass. You subconsciously lean into the soothing touch and he chuckles.

“You read something you weren’t supposed to. You went snooping into my business.” He rips you up by your hair so that you’re right beside him, head leaning back on his shoulder. “Don't you ever fucking touch my stuff again.” The words are whispered but the threat is shouted, and you find yourself nodding quickly. He shoves you back down onto the bed but keeps your hips raised.

Something cool and blunt is pressing against your entrance and you jolt away, yelping when he smacks your ass again.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself on my gun, or I’m gonna make you wish you were dead, understood?” You feel absolutely humiliated, blood running cold as he presses the gun into your cunt, your warm walls clinging to the metal as he slowly pumps it in and out of you. He stops for a moment and you hear the weapon click.

“Safety’s off. Now fuck yourself on it. And then maybe I won’t hurt you.” You jump on the opportunity of not getting hurt anymore and start slowly thrusting your hips backwards. You hate it. You hate how good it feels. You hate how he’s humiliating you and you’re enjoying it. Your body betrays you with each thrust of your hips. Slick gathers between your thighs and drips down onto the mattress while you fuck yourself on his gun.

“Such a fucking whore. Fucking yourself of my Glock. Gettin’ all messy and wet. So fucking desperate for something to fill that cunt of yours that you’ll fuck anything.” His words crack your pride, tears stinging your eyes as you continue to rock your hips.

“Fuck yourself faster, slut. I wanna watch you cum.” That’s what makes you start to sob. The fact that not only is he watching you fuck yourself on his weapon of choice, but he’s going to force you to make yourself cum while doing so.

You rock your hips faster, squeezing your eyes shut as broken sobs leave your lips, the mortification nearly too much to bear. You just want to cum and have this all be over with.

Your clit brushes against the trigger guard and you jolt away from it before repeating the action. “Look at that. Such a stupid mindless slut, fucking yourself on a gun. You’re such a pathetic whore.” You hate it. You hate the names, the fact that he’s saying it out loud, bringing light to what you’re doing.

You risk a glance over your shoulder and feel the blood leave your face. If you weren’t appalled before, you certainly are now. He’s got his phone camera pointing at your most intimate area, filming you fucking yourself on his gun.

You hiccup a sob and press your face into the pillow, rocking your hips faster, hoping to get this over with.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, his hand already covered in your slick. You ignore him, rubbing your clit on the metal hard, toes curling as your orgasm approaches fast.

With a sound that’s half a moan and half a sob, you cum, cunt clenching hard on the metal.

He groans, watching as you lose your dignity on camera.

When your cunt stops pulsing, he pulls the gun out and slaps your ass.

“Face me,” he orders. You comply, eyes red and puffy, snot dripping from your nose and tears falling down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna suck this gun clean. If you leave one drop on here I’ll make you regret it.” You open your mouth and suck on it, licking off the taste of metal and your essence, trying not to cringe at how embarrassing it is.

Bucky holds the camera up to your face, and what little dignity you had left is crushed.

“Look at how worthless you are. Such a pathetic slut.” You suck harder, wanting to get the gun clean so you can end this torture. You’d rather have him physically hurt you. This... this mental abuse? It’s far worse.

He pulls the gun out of your mouth and nods, shedding himself of his pants and boxers then sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. He motions with the gun to his cock and you sniffle, climbing onto his lap. You slowly lower yourself onto him and he moans, aiming the camera at where your abused pussy is taking every inch of him.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself on my cock just like you did on my gun. Understand?” he presses the barrel of the gun to your temple and your bottom lip wobbles.

“Cry all you want, skank. As long as you make me cum.” You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and raise yourself off of his cock, only to drop down on him again. He groans and watches through hooded eyes as you ride him, darkness filling his eyes as he presses the gun harder into your head, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Faster!” He shouts, grinning at the way you flinch. You start bouncing up and down on his lap, the squelching sound of his cock in your soaked pussy making you burn with shame.

Your legs ache, your injured thigh on fire as you continue to use it in a way that you really shouldn't. You fuck him hard and fast, praying to any and every god available that this ends soon.

He moans loudly, thrusting up to meet you, and you cry out in pain. The tears won't stop, they drip down your face and splatter onto his chest, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it spurs him on. He brings the camera up and focuses on your face, watching the way you sob and cry, humiliation clear as day on your face.

“Oh fuck!” His thrusts stutter before he stills, and you follow, staying seated on his cock as loud sobs tear out of your chest.

“Get off and lay on your stomach, ass up. I wanna see how wrecked you look.” You do as he says, nearly choking on your own snot as you press your face into the bed again.

“Look at that,” he whispers, the camera zooming in to capture the way he’s abused you. Your cunt is swollen, all puffy and red, and cum oozes out and over your engorged clit. He tosses the gun aside and smacks you hard, right on your centre.

You jump away from the pain, but he doesn't stop. He slaps your pussy over and over again, catching your clit and sending you spiralling in pain. He doesn’t stop until your shrieking and your cunt looks as abused as your ass.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asks, the camera staying on your pussy as it flutters and clenches, clit throbbing almost visibly.

“Yes,” you whisper. He slaps your cunt again and you scream.

“Yes what?” He demands. This is new. You’re not quite sure what to call him, but another harsh slap against your clit has you screaming the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yes sir!” He seems to like that.

“Good. Now fucking clean yourself before I make you dirtier.” You don’t wanna know what he means by that, and he doesn't give you a chance to think too hard on it before he’s leaving the room, stopping the gun off the ground and flicking the safety back on.

You hear him stomp out of the house, the door slamming hard enough to shake the whole house. Your heart races and your tears don’t stop. The humiliation and mental abuse that he just put you through has you trembling, anxiety skyrocketing.

You haul yourself off of the bed and stumble to the shower, turning the water on as hot as you can handle, then hotter still, determined to burn the feeling of his hands off of your skin.

You stand sobbing under the spray for a long time, long enough for his seed to drip down your leg and get washed down the drain. The thought of having any part of him in your body makes you feel sick, and you grab the showerhead. You switch the setting to a more powerful one then press it to your core, determined to wash him out of you.

The heat of the water scalds you, and it burns like a bitch, but you don’t care. You’ll endure any pain to get the feeling of him out of you.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of washing yourself out, you switch the setting back to normal and stand under the spray, shivering despite the hot water.

You feel hopeless. And absolutely terrified. He hurt you. Mentally and physically. There’s no escape. Nothing for you to do. You’re stuck here. Trapped. Just like Fury said. THere’s no way they’ll let you out now, not with the way he’s treated you. You’re sure of it.

An idea pops into your head and you slowly open your eyes.

Maybe you’re not as trapped as you thought.

You hobble out of the shower and into your bedroom, grabbing the glass of water off of your bedside table.

When you’re back in the bathroom, you smash the glass against the counter, tears continuing to fall silently, although you feel less overwhelmed now that you have a plan.

You grab a large shard of glass then get into the shower, sitting down in the corner under the warm spray of water.

With two deep breaths, you press the glass to the inside of your wrist, wincing as you push down against your bruises. You drag the sharp shard up towards your elbow, closing your eyes for a moment as blood spills out quickly. You slice another, cleaner line, up from your wrist to your elbow, then repeat the process on your other arm.

You lean your head back against the tiled wall and let out a few shuddering breaths, basking in the warm water as your body slowly starts to get colder.

~

Bucky sits in the briefing room, feeling guilty about what he did to you. He had a point to prove, but he thinks he took it a tad too far.

If the dead look in your eyes is anything to go by, then he absolutely took it too far.

On the drive to the compound, he found it nearly impossible to keep his eyes off of the tablet, hungry to see what you would do and how you would react. He’s disappointed but not surprised at the fact that you tried to wash your body clean of him, inside and out.

But now in the briefing room, Steve drones on and on about a potential threat and yada yada ya. Bucky just wants to check on you, make sure you’re not hurt too bad. See how you’re reacting to his... extreme punishment.

With a glance down, he pulls the tablet out of his jacket and holds it under the table, eyes looking up to see if anyone’s noticed. They’re all focused on their captain, the same way he should be. But he’s not. He can’t help the gnawing feeling in his gut that he needs to check on you. He flicks through the cameras, stopping when he gets to the one in the shower.

He tries to be inconspicuous about it, but he struggles when he sees you sitting in the corner, not moving. After a closer look, he sees the puddle of red that’s slowly seeping down the drain.

Blood. And lot’s of it.

He stands up abruptly and all eyes turn to him.

“I’ve gotta go,” he mumbles, shoving the tablet back into his jacket then running out of the room. He drives fast. Fast and reckless, but he’s afraid. Why? Because if you die, it’s his fault.

He doesn’t know where the blood is coming from, but he hopes to god it’s not anything he physically inflicted.

He takes the stairs three at a time, shoving open the bathroom door in your room and ripping open the shower door. You’re sitting there, skin dull and eyes closed while red pumps from your arms.

“Fuck,” he whispers, grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the shower. You whimper, eyes moving slowly beneath closed lids.  

He grabs a towel and presses it to your arms, then digs through the cabinets in search of a first aid kit.

His hands shake just the slightest bit as he wraps your arms tightly in gauze, slowing the blood flow. His heart clenches as he sees the bruises on your wrists, the ones he gave you.

Maybe he is a monster.

“Hmm... no...” you whisper, pushing against him weakly. He looks down and finds your eyes staring up at him, slightly glazed over.

“No,” you whisper again, this time stronger.

“No!” You shout, struggling out of his lap.

“How could you?! Why?! Why couldn't you just let me die?! Haven't you hurt me enough?!” He swallows hard and holds your arms tightly, stopping you from hurting yourself more.

“Calm down. Please. I’m gonna dry you off and put you to bed. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” You shake your head then instantly regret it, feeling dizzy and weak.

He scoops you up in his arms and carries you into your bedroom, stopping when he sees the wrecked sheets. He glances at you and your trembling body then brings you into his bedroom. He sets you down on the bed then runs and gets a towel, drying you off quickly. Your teeth continue to chatter even after he’s dressed you in a sweatshirt of his and a pair of sweatpants.

He tucks you under the blankets then scoots in bed next to you, hoping the high temperature of his body does something to warm you up.

You fall asleep rather quickly, body and mind exhausted from the traumatic events of the day, and Bucky feels himself being quickly overcome with guilt.

He did this to you. He let himself go, far too much. The monster within clawed it’s way out. He took out his aggression and anger on you when he should’ve just punished you lightly. He broke you, right down to your soul. And he’s not sure how or if he can fix you.

~*~

[sugoi-writes]

Question! How in your opinion would fatgum, todoroki, deku and dabi react to their hero s/o getting almost mortally wounded in a fight with an enemy? (they live but they were lucky as hell ) and how do they take care of s/o afterwards?

*cracks knuckles* This is a long one, so buckle up!

TW: violence, bodily harm/body horror, hospitalization.

Scenario: You are in a burning, severely damaged building, helping with evacuation and rescue during a villain attack. As the building starts to collapse, you shove the remaining survivors out, but you fall with the building. 

You have several steel pipes stabbing through you (stomach, right arm and leg), leaving you severely bleeding. To make matters worse, you’ve also earned some 2nd degree burns. You make it to the hospital... but how will your s/o react???

Fatgum

More than likely on patrol in another district, Fatgum hears a distress call from Sun Eater, who was making rounds with you. 

He and R.R rush over to the scene, and all they see are collapsed buildings, fires, and people being rushed off in stretchers. 

There are several heroes helping to fight off a BBEG who has a fire breath weapon/quirk, and super strength. He has countless goonies who are really giving the Pros some trouble.

Fatgum is acting as support, and notices that you were there as well, helping with rescue/evacuation. But Fatgum knows something is off. 

As he intervenes, catching someone with his FatTaxi to slow their fall/momentum, he hears you scream,” GO, NOW!!!”

When the building collapses, it takes everything for Fatgum not to rush to the falling building and rubble. 

He unfortunately gets caught up in a fight, and ends up having to go on the offensive to help the other Pros. 

When all is said and done, Fatgum is in his slim form, completely exhausted. Kirishima is doing his best to help him, supporting his weight. When he sees you before FG, he tries to steer him away. FG, of course, refuses. 

With him needing medical attention as well, he somehow manages to get in the same ambulance as you, and the two of you are carted to the hospital as Kirishima stays to help with cleanup. 

When you are rushed into the ER for surgery, Fatgum wants nothing more than to be there... but he’s separated, and treated for his own injuries. 

When he’s patched up, he spends HOURS outside of the operation wing, wanting to hear something, ANYTHING. He’s on the edge of his seat when Tamaki and Kirishima come to see him. They brought Fatgum some things to munch on, as they know by now that stress eating was one of the only ways to get him back to his jolly state. 

It also helped take some edge off of the situation, as Fatgum looked visibly shaken. All he can hear was the sound of your desperate scream before the building started to crumble, constantly replaying in his mind. 

When the group of 3 heroes are informed of your stabilized status, they’re all immediately relieved, but the doctor adds that you’d be knocked out until next morning, due to the medication(s) you were on. 

When Fatgum is allowed to enter your room, he almost immediately rushes to your side, kissing your hand and gripping it tightly as he watches you breathe, labored and slow. Kirishima and Tamaki can only hover around and try to comfort him, knowing that he’s going to be stubborn, unable to leave your side until you wake up. 

Fatgum will just kiss your bloodied, patched up knuckles, smiling shakily as he watches you recover,” ...hopefully you won’t have to see me like this when you wake up...” he says softly. He smiles sadly,” Even if you think it looks pretty hot... Hahaha... haaa...” His head hangs a little lower, his voice softening as he looks back up to your calm, emotionless face,” I could really hound you about not being more careful... but I’m not one to talk. Wake up soon, so I can bring you some takeout and see your smile again...”

When you do wake up, Kirishima is the one to shake Fatgum awake. Being in his slim state still, you’re the first to tense up. However, you start to cough, the tension in your chest making your ribs and stomach hurt. Fatgum pushes up back down, so you can lay back down.

“Don’t get up... I...I know I look rough. But I’m here for you, Gummy Bear. And I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

Todoroki

Todoroki, in the middle of training, gets a call from his sister. She sounds panicked, and urges Todo not to turn on the TV for any reason for the next few hours. Todoroki seems confused, and disregards his sister’s plea. 

When he turns on the TV... he sees what’s happening. The burning buildings... the smug grin on the villain’s face... and countless bodies in the streets. The camera pans to several people being carted away on stretchers, and low and behold... you were one of them. You were unconscious, a mask over your face to supply you with fresh oxygen as the air continued to fill with smoke and ash. 

Todoroki sprung from his spot, throwing his shoes and coat on almost violently. He knows his father would be on sight, as the Number One Hero, meaning that his agents were too. He makes several desperate calls to try and figure out where you were being taken. After the third attempt, someone finally caves and tells him. Todoroki knew that you were being rushed to the ER, and your surgery would be underway very shortly. 

Todoroki is there within 15 minutes, and he immediately runs into his siblings, who were trying to intervene. They knew he would be there, and that he would be distraught. 

As his sister tries to calm him, Todo’s breath is chilled the instant he exhales, and his hands are trembling, both of them subtly reflecting their quirks. He was a mess and a mixing pot of emotions. Who was responsible for this mess? Why were you on the scene, in a burning building, all alone? Why didn’t you have back up from the inside???

So many thoughts swarmed around in his head as he silently fumed and despaired, scared that the unthinkable could happen to you. But his siblings tried to keep him calm, talking with him and urging him to try and focus on positive thoughts. 

When the doctor strolled out, bearing the mildly good news, Todoroki nearly broke, his hands coming up to his face and he shuddered, not wanting to show that he was in tears. He was relieved. He was furious. He was so scared for you. 

The Todorokis were cautious as they walked towards your room. You were still unconscious, with a series of instruments and IVs hooked up to you to keep you stable. 

Todoroki could only hesitantly cup your cheeks, watching as your breath fogged up the mask over your face. He sighed shakily, kissing the top of your forehead, careful to not accidentally move you. 

“...I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to help you...” he would rasp quietly, while his siblings stepped back,” ...I promise... never to leave your side again. No matter what happens, whatever agency you chose or where you’re assigned... I’ll be there to support you. I’ll never let this happen to you--to either of us--again...”

When you do wake up, Todoroki has both of his hands wrapped around one of yours, his head leaning on the headboard of your hospital bed. His siblings are long gone. When Todoroki slowly starts to wake up, he immediately feels a surge of relief, and kisses the top of your head again, tears flowing freely. This was the Todoroki you knew. The stoic exterior has broken, almost completely, as you lay there, unable to reach up and hug him back. You try to rasp something out, but your voice is shattered from your final screams of agony. 

Todoroki calms himself, pulling away briefly as he gives you a very tired, relieved smile,” ..I-It’s going to be alright...I..I’m here now, baby...”

Izuku

Full Cowlings, Detroit and Delaware Smashes... Izuku is going ham on the scene of the incident, acting as a major player on the offensive team. He knows that you are the careful type, and typically trusts your judgements. After all, you were smart and your quirk was unique. The chances of you being in trouble were slim, as long as you had back up. 

But as a villain grabbed him by his collar, and violently flung him against a building, he felt the ground beginning to shake. His eyes widened in horror as he narrowly recovered, a villain smashing violently into the compromised building. 

He heard you scream, and that was it for him. He crouched down, using as much of OFA as he could, before springing towards your voice. However, this was the perfect window, and another villain snatched him up midair, slamming him back down to the ground below. By the time he covered, the building was already in ruins. Fury surged through him, as he mustered all he could into an obliterating series of kicks and punches, knocking several villains out of his way as he nearly pole vaulted towards you. 

Izuku started moving rubble, able to identify where you fell by your wavering voice and hiccups of pain. Uraraka was quick to stop him, as his reckless actions could actually endanger you. 

Uraraka lifted the parts of the building that were crushing you, and both she and Deku turned white as snow. 

There you were, crumbled and trembling, your voice coming in heavy, wavering pants. 

“Pl...Please... don’t... don’t look, Izuku...” you pleaded, immobilized. But Deku was already lunging towards you, barking over his shoulder for help. You started blacking out by this point. All you remember were visions of heroes prying you out safely. Nurses and field staff were carrying you. Lastly, you saw flashes of desperate, green eyes, looking to you in desperation. 

“Please, Y/N! Don’t give up! Keep fighting to stay awake!”

However, despite your struggle to keep conscious, you lost the battle, and your vision faded to black. You couldn’t remember how long you slept. But occasionally, you would hear a voice or two, talking to or of you. Maybe it was the doctors... probably All Might, Izuku... all of these voices swirled in your mind as you rested, unable to rouse yourself. You were completely and utterly exhausted. 

When you did wake up, All Might stood next to you, clutching his chest in relief. You tried to speak up, but he shushes you quickly, pointing to Izuku. 

He was in the hospital bed next to you, almost as messed up as you were. Your heart dropped into your stomach, but All Might ruffled your hair, sighing. 

“I understand... your relationship with Young Midoriya. He cares a great deal about you. But, at least for his sake... you need to be careful...” he would comment, shortly after asking you how you were feeling, and what you remember. 

“Midoriya, the poor boy... he left straight for the front lines again when another building started to fall. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to hold up almost half of the building... he saved so many people, but it ended up almost crushing him in the process. And even then... he still climbed up, and screamed that he would protect everyone.” 

All Might sat on the edge of your bed,” ...he specifically said that he would protect you, too...”

Your eyes swelled with tears, as you listened to Izuku’s mentor. You were more than familiar with Izuku pushing himself and his body to its absolute limit, but supporting an entire building... that had to take insane mental and physical strength. 

“The good news is: he will recover. Slowly, VERY slowly... but surely. The both of you are lucky to be alive. The bad news... is that you will both need pretty intensive care for about a month. But... until then, I was at least able to place him in the same room as you.” 

All Might’s cheeks flashed with a small blush, as he sighed and scratched the back of his head,” Kids these days...” he grumbles tiredly, standing up slowly

“Try and get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it once he wakes up.”

You nod, thanking All Might for the considerate update. You reach out, and are surprised to see that your hand could just barely reach the edge of his bed. You smile sadly, tears running down your cheeks,” ...you idiot... you had to go feral again, didn’t you?”

Dabi

He knew the ins and outs of this operation, as he was familiar with these set of villains initiating the attack. Shigaraki was more than happy to make his own move, using the other attack as a distraction.

Dabi trusted that you would not be in the district, thinking that you would be wrapped up in a boring patrol or worse... paperwork. But boy, was he wrong. 

Word got to him quickly, as Toga went undercover, against Dabi’s wishes. Feigning as an innocent bystander, she saw you falling, and ultimately had thought you died. She warned Dabi not to come, and that this was what he gets for getting involved with a Pro Hero. 

Dabi did not like that. And Dabi would see to it that you would be safe from now on. 

Long after your surgery, in the middle of the night: that was when he appeared. 

Many of the staff were long gone, and it had dwindled down to the few souls on the graveyard shift. Many were so tired from the amount of patients they had, hurriedly making their rounds so they could lounge/decompress from the horrors they saw today. 

Sneaking through the roof’s entrance, Toga was more than able to snag a new disguise, blood and all. As she strolled through, dressed as one of the nurses. Meanwhile, Dabi was dressed in all black, slinking a few feet behind her with a turtleneck, coat, and shades on. 

He would duck into open rooms and corridors should anyone pass, while Toga was more than capable of keeping up her ruse. 

When they got to the Post-OP ward, it took only a few tries to find you. 

And there you were... laying so weakly, defenselessly on your hospital bed, countless machines hooked onto you. Toga would later regret not taking any of your blood for future use. 

Toga locked the door behind them as Dabi closed in on you, reaching out to you,”...Little mouse... it’s time to wake up.” 

Your eyelids flutter as a new voice invades your senses, before a cool hand presses to your forehead. You feel Dabi’s hand brush your hair away from your face, before you slam your eyes open. 

You practically seize at the sight of him before you, unable to move. You trembled softly, a cautious smile stretching across your lips,” D....Dabi... you can’t... h-how... did you--”

Dabi is swift to cut you off, leaning down to where his lips could almost brush against your oxygen mask. 

“That’s something we can discuss later... I have a bone to pick with you, little mouse...” You winced as Dabi’s hand slams against the bed, nearly colliding with you head as you stare back up at Dabi anxiously. 

“Do you know... why I’m here?” Dabi asks you calmly, causing you to flush ever so slightly. “I-Is it... because I got hurt...?”

Dabi sighs exasperatedly, looking back to you,” If it were a minor injury, I wouldn’t have bothered... but that little stunt you pulled today almost had you killed,” Dabi practically growls, leaving your heart hammering in your chest. You glance away, unable to deny this. 

“I-I know... I... wasn’t thinking clearly. I promise, next time, I won’t--”

“Next time?” Dabi mocks, his brows furrowing. He smirks, a low chuckle erupting in his chest,” Little mouse, there will be no ‘next time’...” 

You blink with confusion as Dabi leans closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear,” ...as soon as you’re recovered... as soon as you get out of this god forsaken place... you’re coming with me. And you will never. Ever. Leave my side again.” 

You try to protest as you feel his hot breath against your ear, trembling. It would be even more dangerous to stay with him. A Pro Hero and a villain being in a relationship secretly is one thing... but between all of the times that you or him covered for one another, leaked confidential information, or... been in the same bed... you would both be done for if word got out. 

“...Toga-kun here... is willing to bust you out with me... You will not be forced to join The League. But we will house you, while you go on a permanent Hero’s Hiatus. You will take the time you need to recover. And you will NOT. Leave the base... unless I say so... because I can’t trust you to act with your best judgement safely.” Dabi laughs, but his laughter quickly died to a weak chuckle,” ...don’t you get it...? I nearly lost you again today.” 

Dabi’s voice wavers momentarily, before his eyes hardened again. You shrink under his gaze, as his eyes burrow into yours,” ...and I’m not going to risk losing you again. Even if I have to take matters into my own hands... and force you to be an obedient, careful little pet...”

You shudder at his words, wincing in pain shortly after. Dabi’s expression softens for a moment, as he removes the mask covering your face momentarily. 

He leans down, placing a chaste kiss to your lips, before slowly pulling away. You swore that Dabi’s eyes were glassy. But before you could call him out on this, Dabi let go of your face mask. It reconnects with your face suddenly, stinging as it violently settles back in place. 

Dabi smiles, the snap of the elastic amusing him. You looked disgruntled, and he wouldn’t mind seeing you that way more. 

“...I’ll be back for you soon, babe... so make sure... that you take extra care while I’m gone.” Dabi rumbles lowly, pinching your cheek before standing upright. Toga gives him a nod, telling him that the coast is clear. And just like that, Dabi and Toga slip out without a trace, leaving your mind spinning and your chest heaving.

(Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3)