#though it is just. Bare Shoulders and the lads being a bit touchy

[copper-skulls]

[gondowan]

Communal Property

Pairings: Din Djarin x f!Reader, allusions to Paz Viszla x f!Reader, Boba Fett x f!Reader, other Mandalorians x f!Reader, big gangbang vibes here lads. 

“I hear you Mandos like to share your women anyway.”

Tags/Warnings: NC-17. Explicit sexual content. Established relationship. Verbal humiliation.  Dom/sub. Choking. Lots of finnnngerrring (vaginal/anal). Canon-typical violence (Din stabs a rando). Soup, but make it sexy. Daddy kink (ehe). Suggestions of a threesome, gangbang, public use, bondage, breeding, double penetration (if I missed anything please let me know), its fluffy at the end :D

Word Count: 4,709

Notes: <:3c please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with anything listed above lol. Seriously though. 

---

It was getting late, and the only clientele left at the dingy cantina were either drunk and rowdy or on their way to out. Which was fine, it was rare for the two of you to have some time together and you relished every second you could get. Din had just bagged a large bounty for Karga, enough that he could be persuaded to take a short break. It had been far too long since the two of you could spend some time together without a bounty puck hanging over your head or fears of Imperials looking for the Child.

Besides, Sorgan was as quiet as it got, and with all the planet-hopping and close calls in the last few cycles, the two of you really hadn’t had any time to yourselves and you were getting a little...tense from the lack of release. 

It wasn’t that Din ignored your needs, but rather you were both so caught up with everything that there was barely any time to sleep, let alone indulge in a long scene. There just weren’t enough hours in the day to both take care of the Crest, the Child, and yourselves while on the run. You could tell he too was tense from the lack of physical connection; from the moment you stepped planetside, he was constantly touching you, either guiding you with a hand on the small of your back or  

Din was in a mood. 

“What will it be?” the barkeep had asked when you both walked in. 

Before you could open your mouth, Din replied “Some stew and cider for her please, nothing for me,” he said in a clipped tone, not bothering to look at you or even ask what you might want. 

As the barkeep walked away, he turned his helmeted gaze towards you. “Any objections sweet girl?”

You felt your face get hot. “No,” you murmured. 

He cocked his head to the side, waiting. He was in that kind of mood tonight. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the barkeep coming back to your table. 

“No...daddy,” you mumbled, dropping your gaze away from him right as the barkeep put down your drinks. 

“Let me know if you all need anything else!” she said cheerfully as she set your plate of food and drink in front of you, oblivious to what had just occurred. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Din said, not even bothering to look at the barkeep. She must’ve thought you were mute or the two of you had an argument or something, the air between the two of you felt so charged. You hadn’t spoken a word since you two stepped in, and this armor-clad Mandalorian was basically bossing you around. 

She walked away, and you reached for the soup. 

“No.” 

You blinked at him in confusion. 

“I’m going to feed it to you,”. 

If you weren’t embarrassed before, you were now. Although the two of you had conversations about taking your dynamic outside the bedroom, Din hadn’t tried anything outside the ship just yet. The two of you were constantly surrounded by others anyway (Cara, Mayfeld, Boba, etc),  so there wasn’t much of a chance to be naughty in public.

Except now, you suppose. You should’ve known. 

“Mando, we’re in public,” you hissed, looking around the cantina. It was crowded and loud, and you were in a corner booth, but there was still a nonzero chance that someone might glance over.

His vocoder crackled, “Just the first spoonful,” he said, dipping the spoon into the soup and raising it towards you. You knew better than to say no, not if you valued the ability to sit down comfortably tomorrow. If you were really uncomfortable, all you had to do was blurt out your safeword, and you knew he would stop. 

You licked your lips, “Just the one.” You prop your forearms on the table and lean towards him, parting your lips, fervently hoping that no one would look towards your table. Din carefully tips the soup into your mouth, watching intently as you swallow.  

“Good?”

You lick your lips, despite the (admittedly delicious) soup, your mouth feels dry, “Y-yeah,”. 

“Finish it and we can leave,” to do what it is we really want to do, is the unspoken statement hanging in the air. He pushes the bowl towards you; you hastily grab the spoon, not even tasting it anymore.  Din watches you eat, unmoving save for an impatient drum of his fingers on the table. 

You relax a little, and ramble at Din about this-that-and-the-other to fill in the silence as you move onto polishing off your cider. Din says little in return but traces circles at your thigh, gloved fingers leaving a burning trial in its wake. Right as you are about to finish, a drunken man saunters over. You can smell the stench of alcohol rolling off of him. So much for a quiet night. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing with a tin can like that?” the drunkard giggles, pointing at Din. “Come with me instead, I can show you a great time, and you can see my face!”.

You sigh, so much for a quiet night, “I’m not interested, thank you,” you say with a clipped smile, turning away, hoping to the maker that he’d leave. 

Unfortunately this idiot can’t read the room, “Awww, don’t be like that, I can-”.

“She’s not interested.” Din said, voice flat, gaze still directed at you, not even bothering to give the drunkard the luxury of his full attention.

The man scowls, throwing up his hands. “Whatever, she’s probably all used up. I hear you Mandos like to share your women anyway.” 

The air got deathly still. Before you can turn to stop him, Din’s vibroblade is sticking out of this man’s shoulder. He screams, sobering up instantly, as Din twists the blade. 

In a flash, the barkeep shows up, blaster in hand, “OUT! All three of you!”, she yells, “Sa’al, I told you if you were going to get in trouble for this shit one day. Don’t let me catch any of you back here again.”

You throw down a fat wad of credits at the table, face apologetic as Din pulls his knife out of Sa’al’s shoulder, returning it to his boot. Sa’al collapses and scurries away in pain, clutching his shoulder. Din calmly stands up, takes your hand in his and leads you towards the exit. You mouth apologies at the barkeep before stepping out into the cool night air. Sorry, my partner is...touchy tonight have a good night so sorry I’m so sorry. 

You shiver, not looking forward to the long walk back to the Crest. Surprisingly, Din turns you in the opposite direction, marching you towards the inn. 

“Don’t want to wait,” he says. “Besides, it’s getting cold, and I know you don’t like that,” he drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and despite the reaction he had at the bar, your heart feels warm, and you lean into him. 

---

The inn is quiet, and you were lucky to get a larger room at the end of the hall. A bath would be nice, the refresher aboard the Crest did its job, but five minute showers really didn’t leave any time for luxuriating. Maybe you could MacGyver some bubbles and really indulge with Din. 

Din however, has other ideas. He all but shoves you into the room, closing the door behind him and quickly doing his usual checks for cameras and recording bugs. Old habits die hard. Once he’s satisfied, he sits at the edge of the bed. He pats at his lap, gesturing for you to sit. This had become a bit of a ritual for the two of you, he would often decompress by holding you as you sat there, either in the cockpit or the sleeping quarters. You amble over, planting a kiss on his helmet, and sit down.

Din doesn’t say anything at first, just lays his head on your shoulder. You reach in between his armor to rub at the tense muscles on his back, and for a few moments, it’s just the two of you and the sound of his breathing out of the vocoder. 

“You didn’t have to go so hard on the poor man you know,” you murmur as you massage the back of his neck. Din doesn’t move, just continues to hold you on his lap, head on your shoulder as he scoffs. 

 “I’m getting soft. Before I met you, old me would’ve killed him,”  the voice underneath the helmet is deadly. He releases his hold on your waist and takes off his helmet, immediately peppering kisses along your mouth. You knew he wasn’t lying, he had done worse--for less. “No one talks to my girl like that,”. 

“It’s fine, you dealt with him. My honor remains intact, I swear.” you giggle as his lips reach a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. Except the idea was enticing. Maybe you could bring it up another time, when Din wasn’t fresh out of nearly killing someone for saying that. The idea of being sandwiched between two Mandalorians was...tempting. You squeeze your thighs together, willing the thought away as you card your fingers through his hair. For someone who routinely kept it covered, it was so, so soft, and one of your favorite parts about him. Din still kept his helmet on more often than not, so you relished every chance you could get. 

His mouth wanders to your collarbones, hand reaching into your shirt, fingers smoothing over your nipple. 

“Although Din--ah,” your breath hitched as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, “What was that with the soup?”

“You didn’t like it?” his voice is muffled as he sucks a bruise onto your shoulder. 

You loved it actually. 

“Need to make sure babygirl has enough energy for Daddy,”. He continues to play with your nipple as you fuss around his lap.“Although...you averted your eyes earlier sweet girl,”. 

You whimper, body tensing. Shit. That had one been one of the rules he had laid out for you at the very beginning. Eye contact whenever you were playing. Din loved it because it made you embarrassed to have to admit to your desires to his face and it put you in an almost automatic submissive mindset. 

“Are you ashamed of being my baby girl?” he murmured, catching your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his. You knew it was a trick question, you could never be ashamed of the relationship the two of you shared. It had grown from just business to more, and despite the near-constant danger, you never wanted to be away from him, and you knew Din felt the same. 

“Of course not,” you sigh. You could never be anything but happy to be his. 

“Then why did you look away from me?” he asked, keeping your chin in a gentle grip, looking at you fondly, a smile of wicked pleasure gracing his handsome features. His voice was calm, and he maintained an innocent demeanor even as his other hand drifted away from your breast onto your thigh, squeezing gently. 

“I was just caught off-guard, we were in public,”. You braced yourself for what you knew was coming-- punishment. 

The other hand that had been trailing along your thigh paused, prompting you to freeze. “Well, it looks like you need to be taught a lesson. Always be ready for me, kitten.” 

“I think five is good,” he releases your face, hands roaming to your bottom, groping as you let out a shuddering breath, “Remember to count them”. 

You burrow your face into his shoulder, holding on tight. Din keeps his gloves on, knowing that you have a special fondness for being spanked while he was wearing them. The leather just adds that extra touch. 

The first hit takes you by surprise, and you buck into him, feeling the sting of his hand. 

“O-one.”

The second and third hit right next to the first, causing you to moan into his neck. 

Din rubbed the growing warm spot on your asscheek, “You should be in a museum kitten, your body is a masterpiece,” he growled, “Almost makes me feel sorry to hurt you.”. He lifts his hand away and you close your eyes, bracing yourself.

“But not quite,”. The next hit has you whimpering.

“Four.” you manage between clenched teeth.

He murmurs, “Last one okay? You’re doing so well.” You steel yourself, knowing that this one will be the most painful. You loved it when he was cold and domineering, playing with your body, inflicting both pain and pleasure at his desire, extracting whatever he needed out of you. 

Din’s hand comes down, hard. You cry out, shifting forward with the force, but are caught by his chestplate. 

“Five!” you call out, relieved. “T-Thank you Daddy,”.  

Din kisses your cheek, phrases of adoration and love filling your ear. He moves you off his thigh, pushing you onto the bed in one swift motion. You land with a soft ‘oof’, getting up on the back of your forearms to look at him. 

Din hurriedly takes off the rest of his armor and looms over you on the bed, arousal rolling off his body in waves. His palm reaches down between your legs. “Babygirl...you’ve already made a mess.” Din pulls at the crotch of your panties, feeling the wetness that has seeped through. He yanks them off, making a big show out of sniffing them, all the while maintaining eye contact with you as you squirm under him.  

“Is this all for me sweet girl?”. You nod feverishly and Din groans, as he inhales deeply again, your ruined panties pressed right against his nose, “It’s too good--I should just keep your pussy under lock and key.”  

“Did the spanking get you all riled up?” he asks, the curve of his cock visible even through his pants, making your mouth water. 

“Or…” his voice drops precipitously, “Were you thinking about being passed around?” 

Damn, of course he’d know. Your eyes widen and you swallow, stomach twisting. 

Din grins as he continues to let his hands caress your hip, “Was that it? Is that what you want? Passed around and used up by a bunch of Mandalorians?”

You whine, biting your lip, refusing to give him the pleasure of confirmation.

A sharp slap across your nipple brings you back to reality. “Answer me.”

You nod, lips parting, unable to answer as Din pushes a finger into your mouth and across your tongue. You lap at his finger, pleased at the subtle shiver that goes through him. He adds a second finger, reaching deep into your mouth, making you gag as you garble out an affirmation. 

Din grins ferally. “You know I could call up Paz and Boba, let them take turns on you”. You shudder, the thought of sucking Boba’s cock while Paz worked your pussy was hot. You hadn’t done more than exchange a few conversations with the two of them, but you knew that Din would trust them with his life, they were his vod. Paz was the biggest one and you knew he wouldn’t take it easy on you. Boba, however, would be brutal, possibly even more so than Din.  

“Although I don’t know babygirl, I’m not sure I can share your pussy-- maybe I’ll keep my cock in your pussy and the others can take turns on your ass and mouth, keep you airtight and so full. Would you like that baby? Be stuffed full of cock?” Din hums as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. The image he’s painting in your mind is disgusting and oh so good, you imagine yourself straddling Din as his cock fills your pussy, holding on for dear life while Paz eases himself into your other tight hole and you choke around Boba’s length, utterly debauched. 

Din pets your cheek, soft gesture contrasting sharply with the utter filth coming out of his mouth. His hand finally reaches down towards the apex of your thighs, knuckle grazing up and down your folds. “We better train your asshole then, don’t want Paz or Boba to hurt you,” your heart flutters, filthy images of you on your knees plugged up making your blood pound.  

“That’s Daddy’s job after all.” he says absentmindedly, eyes laser focused on your pussy as he briefly dips his finger even lower, just barely skimming across your other hole.    

“Look at you,” he says, admiring the way you shudder as he inserts his fingers into your pussy, you’re so turned on you can hear the squelch as he pushes in. “Knew you were a greedy slut since the first day I set eyes on you.”

You keen under his touch, mind flying high, pussy throbbing as you move your hips into his hand. “I’m your greedy slut Daddy,” 

“Yeah you are, sweet girl.” Din says fondly. You wonder how it is that you’re already this close even though he’s barely started to finger you.  

“Can I kiss you? Please?” you whimper, reaching for him. Din hums and puts a knee on the bed, leaning over, chest pressed against yours, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You pull him closer, needy for more of him as you wordlessly beg for more. He nips at your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him in, never minding the mess of saliva. 

 “Never thought you were that much of a whore,” he hisses against your neck, teething grazing along the line of your skin as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. His fingers continue to work their magic on your slick folds, and you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess on the bed already, and dear maker, he hadn’t even made you cum yet. 

“Alternatively…”. Din stands up, mouth leaving yours and withdrawing his fingers as well. You whine at the loss of sensation. He nips at your breast before reaching down to pull his pants down. You swallow, chest heaving as you part your legs further for him. Din rubs the head of his cock on your clit, 

“Spread yourself,” he orders with a sharp smack to your inner thigh. You scramble, reaching down to give him better access. Din lets out a moan at the sight of your dripping pussy and your debauched dreamy expression, fresh bruises adorning your neck and chest, all his doing. He loved the way you folded under his touch as if you were made for him, always so sweet and anticipatory of his needs. A beautiful complement to his twisted desires. The thought of it made his heart swell. He was never going to let you go.  

Din makes an appreciative noise as you follow his command, lining himself up with your wet hole. You’re breathing so hard in anticipation that you feel light-headed, “Or...I could take you back to the Covert, let everyone else have a turn at you,”

Before you can fully register what he said, he pushes deep into you with one fluid motion of his hips. You squeeze down on him, grateful for the pressure and the way he fills you up every time like he was made for you.  

“We could get your implant taken out, make you take all of our loads in your pussy. All of our cum mixing together.” You moan, head dropping back, shuddering as he continues to thrust, bottoming out, not giving you any time to breathe let alone think. 

“Would you like that babygirl? Naked in the middle of the Covert for all to see?” you scramble to hold on to his arm, legs circling around his back. You squeeze around his length, getting close, but you don’t dare to cum without his permission. 

“D-daddy…” is about all you can muster out, eyes looking at his face but unseeing as he continues. You pull at the arm he’s been using to brace himself against the bed, gesturing at him to put his hand around your neck. He obliges with a small laugh, the span of his palm encompassing your neck, lightly resting his hand there and not squeezing, yet. 

“Close baby?” 

You tremble, “Y-yes Daddy fuck, please may I--” 

His hand returns to your clit and he presses down, taunting you, “You’re close already? If you cum, you acknowledge that you’re a filthy slut who needs Daddy to keep them in check. Is that what you are? A whore for Daddy?”. The hand on your throat squeezes just right and you can’t hold on any longer.  

“Always Daddy f-fuck.” you cry out as you curse, feeling your release overtake you as Din fucks you through your orgasm. 

“What do you say,” he snarls, ignoring your attempts to scramble away from the overstimulation of his cock and fingers. 

You blink and take a deep breath, “Thank you for letting me cum Daddy.” You’re past the point of embarrassment at this point, he has you wrapped around his finger, all mental filters long gone. 

You can see Din’s jaw clench before he pulls out quickly and you whimper at the loss of sensation. He flips you over and pulls your hips up. He huffs out as he pushes himself back in, chasing his own pleasure this time, nailing you to the bed and all you can do is continue to take it.  Your mind swims as you let out a sob; you’re so deep in a trance that you barely register his finger at the edge of your asshole again. He pushes in slowly, first knuckle breaching the tight ring of muscles as you tense up around his thick finger. 

“I knew you would love being the Covert slut; you always need so much to be satisfied,” he sneers, voice dropping even lower as he continues to mock you as his thick cock continues to work your hole and his finger fully breaches your asshole. “Maybe we won’t stop until we’re sure you get pregnant huh? You won’t ever know who the father will be since you won’t ever see their faces.”

 You’re nonverbal at this point, your litany of ‘yes Daddy’ and ‘more please’ muffled by the pillow.

“I guess we’ll just have to hope it looks like me huh?”. You groan, too overcome to do anything but moan.  

“Gonna give us warriors babygirl?”. Din snaps his hips particularly hard, you’ll be feeling the smack of his thighs against yours in the morning. 

You can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of the obscene image he had planted in your mind coupled with the press of his cock at your back and the fullness of his finger in your asshole was getting to be too much. You grip the sheets in a vice grip, mind falling into the web Din painted, of you on your knees, collar tied to a post, all your holes dripping with cum while the other Mandalorians all take a turn at you. So filthy, and you love it. You know nothing would please Din more than your complete and utter submission, and if that involves the entire covert or Paz and Boba, so be it. 

Din’s hand comes back up to your throat, and squeezes, playing with your breath right as his other hand inserts a second finger inside your asshole. You clutch at the hand wrapped around your neck, feeling your head swim, closing your eyes as you bounce up and down on his cock.   

He growls, biting into the shell of your ear, “Aww baby are you drooling?” he smears your spit across your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, you’ve only cum once, and all of this is already making you cockdumb. Might have to call Paz and Boba in after all.”

You could only mewl in affirmation, mind floating, body only anchored by the points of contact made by Din’s hand on your throat, his cock in your pussy, and his fingers in your ass. You feel so good being used like this.  

“I love it when you’re like this babygirl, so helpless for Daddy,” Din growls in your ear. His eyes are hooded as he chases his own orgasm, the rhythm of his hips becoming more erratic. 

“I-I--” your tears break free, running down your cheeks as you struggle to form coherent words. 

Din is unaffected, unrelenting in his thrusts against your walls. “Tears aren’t your safeword babygirl. You can do better than that.”

You manage a moan, barely registering his words, cries reverberating around the room as he knocks the breath out of your lungs with each thrust. “Tell Daddy you love this.” he hisses. 

“I-I fuck, oh, oh, iloveitdaddypleaseplease,” you struggle to find enough breath to answer him, mouth dry from all your panting, Din’s hand unrelenting across your throat. 

“I know you do baby. Is it getting hard to breathe? It’s okay, Daddy’s got you,” his voice full of pride as he rails you, splitting you open, filling the room with nothing but the sound of his cock moving in and out, his hips slapping against your ass. “So good for Daddy fuck-- I’m gonna-- this pussy is too good--such a good girl for me.”

His words fill you with warmth, and you squeeze your pussy against him right as he pulls out. Din moans, his hand letting go of your throat, looking for more leverage as he gets closer to his own completion. “Make a mess all over me babygirl, it’s o-okay I got you,”. You wail and sob as he pushes you over the edge again. All you can hear is your garbled ‘thank you Daddy thank you’ as you thank him devotedly over and over again.  All the tension drains out of you, leaving you boneless on the bed, only held up by the fingers still in your ass and his cock. 

“S-shit. You made a mess all over me f-fuck, oh fuck.” Din groans as he finishes inside you, filling you with warm cum. He pulls his fingers out and collapses on top of you. Din places his head against yours, peppering kisses all over you as he pulls out, his cum oozing out of you. It’s quiet as you both catch your breath. 

You open your eyes blearily, “Fuck.” is about all you can manage before giggling, the endorphins making you feel so good. You can feel Din smile as he lifts himself up, pushing you back on your back. He looks ethereal, hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his body as he gazes at you fondly. You reach up and caress his face and he leans into your touch. 

“How do you feel?” he murmurs, warm brown eyes on yours, laying a kiss on the back of your hand; ever the gentleman when he wasn’t busy degrading you at your request. 

You stretch languidly, a little sore, but no more than usual. “I feel great actually. And you?”

Din smiles softly as he caresses your face, “Never better,”. You love all these aspects of him, the bounty hunter, the Mandalorian, your lover. Nothing made you happier than getting to share these moments with him. The two of you lay there for what feels like eternity, happy, sated, no concerns, just kissing each other softly, coming down together. You feel your eyelids close.

His voice brings you back from the edge of sleep. “Sweet girl...we need to clean up,”.

You blink at him blearily, “Ah right...I made a mess,”.

“We made a mess,” he chuckles, pulling you up into his arms (how did he still have all that energy?) before depositing you in the tub and turning on the warm water. Right as the water covers your shoulders, he gets up. 

“Where are you going? The water is niiiiice.” you say as you make a big show of sinking into the bath. “Although not as nice as your ass.”

He smirks, “I need to send a message to Paz and Boba. Got exciting news for them,” he says as he turns towards his discarded armor. 

Your eyes widen. Wait what? 

--- 

I regret nothing lmfao. This is 100% me procrastinating from the fact that I have six months to finish writing my dissertation nbd. The line “you should be in museums” and “pussy under lock and key” is from Megan thee Stallion’s Sex Talk and Dance respectively. As always, comments/reblogs/keysmashes are always appreciated and give me much serotonin :)

Might do a part two with actual Boba and Paz but there are only so many euphemisms for cock that I know of ahaha. 

[jaeminscoffee]

Cordolium

Cordolium- Heartfelt sorrow, heartache (n.)

Pairing- Lee Jeno x reader

Genre- Fluff for starters, angst for main course.

Word count- 1.78k

Warnings- Y/n’s led on by Jeno. Or she just misinterpreted his actions, also horribly written ✌

Summary- Who’d known one picture was all it would take to break your heart.

Having gotten into your dream university called for leaving your comfort house and moving into a completely foreign environment, where everyone would be strangers unlike your town where everyone knew each other. 

You were already cranky about the fact that you had to shift, added to that came the news that you’d have a roommate since the last room available was allotted to the student who enrolled in just minutes before you. 

It was a bittersweet feeling. Bitter because you have to live with a total stranger having to share common spaces, personality could be who knows how. Sweet because you’d have a familiar face to look around in the University for. 

“Y/n did you see my blue hoodie?” your roommate screamed from his room, to you who was seated on the couch by the living room. “Hmm?” you hum back, knowing full well the hoodie he’s implying to is the one you’d adorned right now. 

“Come on doll, is there any hoodie of mine that you haven’t worn yet?”

Jeno is the perfect roommate. You’d been shocked the first day you punched in the password to your apartment, opening the door only to be greeted with a guy who had nothing but a towel around his torso. Half shocked at the fact that your roommate for the rest of your semester would be a guy. Half shocked that an extremely good looking guy was your roommate. 

Jeno made the unknown neighborhood seem as though you’d been there all your life. He shooed away all your homesickness, never giving you time to even miss your street by bringing up new things to keep the pair of you occupied. 

“Uh? The one that you bought yesterday? I haven’t worn that yet.” you flash him a smile as Jeno passed you a look of boredom. “It was a rhetorical question, Y/n” he shook his head, making his way towards you with nothing but his sweats on. 

Not the first time you’ve seen him half naked, you’d seen him like that almost every other day, Jeno had clearly grown ridiculously close to you. But the sight of his toned abs and chiseled chest never fails to fluster you. “look at the picture you have of me half naked, you’re basically burning holes into my abs, babe” he retorted after plopping down on the seat beside yours and you immediately shift position to lay down on the couch with your head on his lap. 

“Bold of you to assume i still have that image, Jen” you say, handing him the remote to select what you two would be watching that evening as you tug on his free hand, bringing it up to your hair and placing it there, shaking your head slightly as a signal for him to run his fingers through your hair. 

This is how it’d been since you two grew close. You had a very, very touchy friendship. You had no objections to that, absolutely loving the cuddles and names he’d given you.

All fears of being alone had gone with the wind after the news of you being THE Lee Jeno’s roommate spread throughout the campus. The undivided attention you’d receive didn’t faze you though, knowing full well it was all just a way to somehow get Jeno to pay attention to them. 

That didn’t matter though since you’d found a perfect friend circle for yourself. That friend circle being Jeno’s friend circle. They were all extremely bubbly and accepting of your joining in the group. One particularly was extremely close to you. Jaemin. Having shared the same energy level and brain cells, you got close to each other really quick. 

Jeno chuckles at your antics before complying to your silent request, “Whatever. Though, I’d actually say nothing if you do end up being the first one to wear my new hoodie” you look up at him, confused. “you look cute in my clothes” he sends a wink in your way, leaning down to press a small peck on your forehead before diverting his attention to the shows he constantly switched back and forth to. 

“Oh? Then maybe i should change into that right now-” you attempt to get up fast to hide your blushing self, only to be pulled back with a strong grip on the material of your (his) hoodie which resulted in you falling right back onto Jeno’s lap. “Maybe you shouldn’t” he gave you a playful warning look, breaking out into a smile seeing you huff out giggles. 

“But you just said you don’t mind!” you try standing up again, “doesn’t matter” he pulls you back with more force, now locking you in a tight embrace as your head gets flushed into the nape of his neck, arms holding his bare shoulder for support.

Married couple. A title your friends had given you due to the pair of yours dynamic. It’s kind of like an inside joke at this point. Each time they’d point out you having something more than a platonic friendship, Jeno would always be the first one to dismiss it, clearing all misunderstandings whereas you’d make little to no effort to do so. Your love for the lad basically oozed out of you. 

It’s a little hard to not have feelings for a guy with the personality of an angel, behavior intact and looks as a plus one. You are sure he had at least a little something for you seeing his actions, lingering kisses, touches. You are so sure he’s got at least something for you.

Pressing one last kiss to the side of your head, he moves you gently off of him and onto the fluffy couch as you stare at him in confusion, clearly not liking the warmth being taken away from you. “what happened?” you ask him, about to pull him back down, “I promised a friend I’d go over, we’ll cuddle once i return home, is that alright with you doll?” he inquires, leaning down to smoothen down the hair that was sticking out here and there from his previous actions. 

“Why wouldn’t i be alright with that? As long as you give me all the cuddles we’re missing out on right now” you feign anger to which he gave you his signature eye smile. “Of course.” With that he left the room, probably to change into something else. 

You really wanted to spill out your feelings for the lad to him, you weren’t scared of being rejected. Jaemin, Jeno’s known better half, had assured you multiple times of how you’d definitely be the only one to catch Jeno’s attention. 

What you were really scared of was if you’d lose what you had right now. Feelings are stuff that comes and goes in a rapid and you can lose everything you have if your feelings for the other deteriorates somehow. But your friendship was way more important to you than your feelings and you wouldn’t, in a million years, want to lose what you’ve established with Jeno. 

You spend the rest of your evening watching shows, painting your nails, and even reminding yourself to make one of Jeno’s favourite dishes for dinner once he gets home, mentally thanking Jaemin for reminding you to not forget that little confession plan you had plotted. 

You’d make it subtle that you’re in love with your roommate through your actions rather than words, though, he’d be an idiot if he hadn’t already noticed at least a bit of affection for him through your clinginess. 

You make your way to your room after turning the flame down to low upon hearing your phone ring. You wipe your hands on your hoodie before pressing the red button and picking it up, Jaemin’s contact taking up its place on your screen.

“Jaem?” you inquire stupidly as though his caller ID didn’t make it obvious enough that it was, in fact your best friend calling you.

“I would have barged into your house if you’d taken any longer to pick up the call but congratulations for finally gathering some balls to do it Y/n!!” Jaemin screams into the speaker, obvious that he’s excited. “Congrats?” you ask back.

“Yes! Finally! You guys look so cute in that image, I almost threw it at Haechan!” he replied with the same energy. Confusion clouds your mind as you try making sense of his words. 

“Picture? Congratulations? Jaem, what are you talking about?" 

"You know! The picture he just posted of the two of you being all lovey-dovey! I never took Jeno to be a romanticist! Like, the caption??-” you immediately open your laptop to log into your social to see what imagine Jaemin was talking about, “I have a slight doubt that you’re the one who posted it from his-” finally in on instagram, you scroll down to see any new posts of your roommate,

“-phone, but like. I’m so glad that you asked him out, knowing Jeno, he’d never do it unless you double dog dare him-” running impatient hearing Jaemin ramble on about the said image, you finally search up Jeno’s name, feeling your stomach churn with an unknown feeling. 

“Also, did you dye your hair? You look really cute in that image though it isn’t all that clear! I told you from day one you’re a match made in heaven-”

You click on the recent post, the image of Jeno, leaning in, pressing a kiss on the lip of a girl unknown to you fills up your screen, ‘my one and only for eternity’ as the caption. “How was the kiss?-” you pause for a second, refreshing the page to see if it’s really an image of Jeno, kissing a girl, “Jaem.." 

"I mean, if you’re gonna act all shy with me now then don’t tell me, but tell me how did you confess to him?” you can physically feel your heart drop down to your stomach

“Jaemin..” “you finally get to call him your boyfriend, Y/n! No space between the two words! I can’t believe he decided to make your relationship public the day of confession! But seriously-”

“Jaemin listen-" 

"I’m still not over the caption, where did the confession take place?? You should’ve called me man! I would’ve recorded it-”

“Jaemin!” you finally scream, losing it at all the words coming out of his mouth, feeling enraged at yourself for ever thinking you stood a chance. Hearing the line go silent, you feel something wet travel down your cheeks the more you stare at your crush kissing a girl that’s not you. You choke out a silent sob. How are you supposed to face him after today, knowing everything you felt for him was unrequited?

“That girl in the image is not me.”

[onlycags]

Watch Me | Çağlar Söyüncü

Word Count: 1,519 Rating: T Description: He’s always watching you, until one day he isn’t. **This is not as creepy as it sounds, I promise!**

Enjoy! xx

- - -

It seemed as though every time the two of you were in the same room, Çağlar’s eyes never left you. It wasn’t weird or creepy, but it turned you on like no other and so far you hadn’t acted on it.

You walked into James Maddison’s flat and your gaze was immediately drawn to Çağlar. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you took the opportunity to appreciate him from afar. At six-foot-one, he towered over you, but you didn’t mind. Today, he wore a black hoodie with ripped blue jeans and you were having trouble concentrating on much else. He was currently deep in conversation with Kasper Schmeichel, who nodded seriously at something the Turk had said. The blond tilted his chin in your direction as he said something to Çağlar, who turned and looked in your direction. There was the gaze, again. His eyes seemed to shift focus, and the deep blue washed over you. His gaze held promise as he openly checked you out, starting at the wedges on your feet, skimming up over your brightly-coloured sundress and ending at the side braid in your dark hair. He smirked at you and took a swig from the beer in his hand.

You could feel the blush on your cheeks as you playfully rolled your eyes and laughed, a desperate attempt to try to quell the nerves in your stomach. He turned his attention back to Kasper, but you knew his eyes would follow you wherever you went in the flat.

“Hey, James!” You greeted, pulling your childhood best mate in for a hug as he kissed your cheek. “How are you?”

“Hey, [Y/N]! I’m good - glad you’re here. You want something to drink?” He grabbed your hand and led you to the kitchen, past Çağlar whose gaze hardened when he noticed your hand in James’s. “What do you want?”

You reached for a bottle of Carling, enjoying the crisp taste as you opened the bottle and took a sip. “Thanks, mate.” You surveyed the crowd, enjoying the fact that you recognized almost everyone. Jamie and Rebekah Vardy played with their kids on the couch, Chilly and Evans were engrossed in a game of FIFA while Tielemans, Grey and Pérez cheered them on.

Taking a seat at the dining table, you pulled out your phone for a brief moment to check your texts. As you were slipping your phone back into your dress pockets, Mendy came and sat across from you. “Bonjour,” He greeted, smiling at you.

You instantly relaxed, easily sliding into your second language. “Bonjour, mon ami. Ça va?”

“Bien,” he responded. “Et toi?”

“Moi aussi. C’est une bonne fête, non?”

“D’accord.”

The two of you continued conversing in French. It was always good to see Mendy, as you loved practicing your French with him. Occasionally, Praet would join in, the three of you enjoying the opportunity to annoy everyone else with your ‘secret’ language, as Madders had once joked.

You responded to the joke Mendy made, innocently placing your hand on his arm as you threw back your head and laughed. As you righted yourself, your gaze met Çağlar’s. His jaw was clenched, his expression wounded as he looked away, taking another swig of beer. Your brushed off his reaction, focusing again on your conversation with Mendy. At some point, Chilly came over and you and Mendy switching to English for a bit.

The atmosphere slowed down once the pizza was delivered. You sat around with everyone, chatting and laughing, all-too-aware of Çağlar’s gaze from across the circle that had inadvertently formed. Madders sat on one side of you, while Chilly sat on the other.

After a few hours, it was the time of the evening where Madders had had a few more drinks than normal and got touchy-feely. You never minded - the two of you were always touchy with each other - but, apparently, Çağlar did.

You currently found yourself sitting in-between Madders’s legs, his arms around your middle and his chin resting on the top of your shoulder as the two of you scrolled through your Instagram. A loud laugh came from across the room and you looked up, startled, your eyes immediately seeking Çağlar’s. The intense expression on his face sent shivers down your spine, but before you could say anything, he was getting up and walking away.

“Is Çağlar okay?” You asked, hoping Madders didn’t hear the concern in your voice.

He shrugged, swiping a finger over your phone screen to scroll. “Cags is always walking off looking angry. He usually isn’t, though.”

You nodded, worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth. “I just - I feel like it might have something to do with me and you sitting like this.”

“Maybe. I doubt it, though. He can be intense, but I don’t know why he would be jealous of us - we’ve always just been friends.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t feel like discussing it further, but your gaze kept flickering around the room, silently hoping Çağlar would come back. He returned shortly after, but he never looked in your direction the rest of the night.

***

You didn’t see Çağlar for the few weeks, except after matches. Even then, it was stilted. Neither of you had ever really spoken to one another, your longing gazes across rooms being your main form of communication. It all came to a head after a brutal match against Tottenham, the Foxes just barely winning with a goal at 90’+2 to make the final score 2-1 in their favour. It had started to drizzle at the start of the second half and at the end of the match, you found yourself enveloped in a hug by a sopping-wet Madders. “I’m so proud of you!” You screamed, laughing as he twirled you around. He had scored both goals tonight and you were in awe of your best mate’s ability.

Once everyone had left the pitch to the changing rooms, you lingered inside the tunnel, playing on your phone, looking up every time the changing room door opened. James had invited you out to celebrate the win with the lads, and you had acquiesced once he promised to watch a romantic comedy with you when you got back.

The changing room door opened and you looked up to find Çağlar. Your eyes met his and your stomach flipped. Tentatively, you stepped toward him. “Hi,” you said, hating how meek you sounded.

“Hi,” he responded, looking away from you.

The awkwardness was killing you. In a fit of desperation, you grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into an empty room. You shut the door behind you two and locked it. You turned to face him. “I can’t stand this!” You shouted, throwing up your hands and walking past him. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?” His cool tone and and confused expression angering you even more.

“THIS!” You huffed, gesturing between the two you. “This…thing between us. I remember the way you used to look at me, Çağlar, and then you just stopped. Why?” Your voice cracked a little on the question, but you didn’t care; you just wanted an answer.

“I hadn’t realized you and James were an item. At his party a month ago, I saw the way you two behaved together and I knew it was pointless to pursue you.”

“Me and James have never and will never be an ‘item,’” you said matter-of-factly. “We’ve been friends since we were five, and we’ve always been touchy.” You thought back to the moment he walked away at the party and cursed. “I should have gone after you, then.”

“What?”

“At the party. I wanted to go after you when you stormed out of the room.”

His fiery gaze returned, his blue eyes darkening as he stalked towards you. The moment his lips met yours, you couldn’t think of anything else but him. His hair was slightly damp from his shower and the woodsy scent of his cologne surrounded you. He backed you up against the wall, his hands sliding under the jersey you had worn to the game.

“Whose number are you wearing?” He asked, breaking the kiss. You panicked for a brief moment, trying to remember if you had put on his jersey or Madders’s. Before you could say anything, he turned you around, chuckling appreciatively at seeing his name on your back. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you against him so that your back was against his chest. “I like seeing my name on you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Well, I like watching you play,” you moaned as he kissed his way up the side of your neck, lightly biting your earlobe. Giggling, you wiggled free, turning to face him. You placed a hand on his cheek, enjoying the feel of his scruff under your fingertips. “I want to be the one you find after every match, so I can do this,” you stood on your tiptoes, curling your fingers in his hair as you dragged him down for another earth-shattering kiss.

[laschatzi]

Smiles

A little belated birthday gift for @effulgentcolors, as our conversations about wishing for more support for Killian have kinda sparked this.

title: Smiles

summary: a little 3x20 canon divergence where Killian is not left out at the hospital but is unexpectedly included

rating: G

word count: ~1,600

also on: ff.net and ao3

Never thought I'd see one of those.

It's called a baby.

No, Swan. A smile.

A smile.

Nothing makes Killian Jones's heart soar more than seeing Emma Swan smile, indeed a very rare occasion, so he should really be happy, and he is. Yet...

His own lips pull briefly into a smile, but it's one of those melancholic ones that are dominated by the sadness in his eyes.

It's a really heartwarming scenario, and it does warm his heart, to see this family united that has gone through so much, lost each other so many times. But in the end, they always find each other... save each other. It's almost like the strong bond they share ties them together in a way that makes it physically impossible for any force, magical or not, to separate them permanently. These people... deep down in his heavy, heavy heart he knows he cares about them, all of them, even if he keeps telling himself that what bound him to this latest quest was just a temporary alliance. Of course it was not. And Emma Swan... he loves her, there's no use in denying that, he's even said it out loud. He hasn't given up hope yet that she might change her mind about going back to New York with her lad, even if the odds don't seem to be in his favor. Even though she's very adamant about it being the best choice, he has a feeling that she might be trying a little too hard to convince herself that it's for the best... or is that just wishful thinking on his part?

Killian exhales slowly and lets his gaze sweep almost longingly over the family huddled together in the hospital room once more before he takes a step back, suddenly feeling a mighty urge to leave this place. Because watching something from afar you long for but most likely never will be a part of... it's not something you want to endure for long. Emma offered him once that he could be a part of something, and he tried, he really tried his best to be exactly that, but somehow he never really seemed to fit in. And when you're always the outsider, only reluctantly tolerated to be around, but never really valued or trusted, it weighs on you, it hurts... especially when you know that you probably deserve that cool shoulder mostly shown to you.

He turns around and heads for the stairs, not really trusting that suspicious thing they call elevator, when he hears Emma's voice, surprisingly enough, calling him. “Hook! Where are you going?”

He stops mid move, and it takes him a few moments to collect himself and plaster a fake smile on his face before he turns around, mask firmly in place, and raises his eyebrows in question without a reply, but she obviously doesn't expect one.

She takes two steps in his direction, fists buried deep in the pockets of her jeans, and asks, “Don't you want to say hello to my brother?”

Now that's a little unexpected. “Oh, I don't know...” He scratches behind his ear and tilts his head in a doubtful way. “I wouldn't want to... intrude.”

“Intrude?” she echoes, and the incredulity in her voice elates him to stupid amounts. “You helped saving him, remember?”

He averts his eyes and shakes his head. “Not really, Swan. I'd only made it worse. Regina ended it,” he points out. “Hardly anything I could contribute.”

Emma licks her lips, suddenly the tiniest bit nervous, much to his surprise. “Yeah, about that...” She draws a deep breath. “Listen, I owe you an apology.” Killian's ears prick up, and his eyebrows raise higher than usual. A smile and an apology from Emma Swan? Today must be a really extraordinary day for sure. “What I said the other day about you,” she continues and, after a little hesitation, adds, “about your hand... I didn't mean it like that.” She shakes her head vigorously as if trying to affirm her statement. “I was scared and angry because of the secret you'd kept, and I... I... just wanted to lash out,” she admits, looking him firmly in the eyes. “Not like that's an excuse, but...”

He raises his hand almost impatiently. Wonderful. If nothing else, his bloody deficiency always makes for a nice conversation, doesn't it? “It's okay, Swan. I understand,” he replies soberly and tilts his head. “You were upset and worried for your family.”

“Yeah, well.” Of fucking course he understands. Sometimes she wishes he wasn't so goddamn understanding all the time; that would make a lot of things a lot easier, for example keeping her distance. “That doesn't make it any better,” she states a little more curtly than intended. “I didn't want to hurt you, Hook,” she finally adds firmly and sincerely.

He looks away for a moment, his jaw clenching, and he wishes, he so wishes, she'd stop calling him that and say his name, his real name. Just once. Then he presses his lips into another smile, not exactly fake, but maybe a little forced. “Rest assured, it takes a little more than a barb to do that.”

“Still–”

Emma is cut off when David rushes out of the hospital room. “Where is he?” he asks, his eyes scanning the corridor, and when he spots Killian, he exclaims, “Hook!” Weirdly enough, somehow it doesn't bother him when Emma's father calls him that, he can't even tell why that is... maybe the sort of grumpy camaraderie that has slowly developed between them. The prince cocks his head in the direction of the room. “Come and meet our son.” When he sees that Killian seems to hesitate, unsure what to do, he reaches out with his arm in an inviting gesture and smiles. “Please.”

Killian still feels a little awkward, but he follows. David's gesture and demeanor warms his heart, because he knows it's genuine: if he has learned one thing about him, then it's that this man has not one duplicitous bone in his body, and he can't fake a smile for the life of him. He still feels like he's somehow intruding, but Henry and Snow are smiling at him in a welcoming way, and so he tentatively steps nearer, smiling a little insecurely at the tiny sleeping infant.

“He's gorgeous, Milady,” he finally says. “Congratulations, to you both.”

“Thank you,” the princess bandit replies and adds pointedly, “for everything you did.”

He sways his head from side to side and averts his eyes, hand coming up to fidget and rub behind his ear. “Well, I didn't really–”

“You risked your life,” David cuts him off and points out, “again.” The prince looks down at his shoes for a moment and studies the dirt from Zelena's barn still covering their tips, before he looks back at Killian and adds in a sincerely regretful tone, “When we... took the first opportunity to mistrust you.”

Killian would never have expected this. He almost squirms, raises his hand and waves him off a little awkwardly. “Really, mate, it's alright. I–“

“No, it's not,” David interrupts, his pale blue eyes fixed firmly on Killian's, “and we're sorry.” Snow looks at him sincerely, too, and nods, affirming that her husband speaks for her, as well. Killian doesn't want to admit it, but the appreciation from the couple means a lot to him. Just like, a few hours ago, it meant a lot to him how Emma's father quickly dropped the initial mistrust and defended him against his daughter's ire, Zelena backed you into a corner, you did the best you could. Maybe he's wrong, and they don't just barely tolerate him.

There's nothing more to say than to honor their obviously sincere apologies, so he finally caves and nods once, almost solemnly. “Accepted.”

When David smiles again he can't help but smile back shyly, before he deliberately changes the subject. “So, the little Prince... does he have a name?” he inquires, briefly remembering the bickering of Emma's parents about that obviously touchy subject.

“We haven't decided yet,” the princess bandit says quickly, “but you'll hear it tomorrow at the naming ceremony.”

Killian cocks an eyebrow. “The naming ceremony?” he echoes.

“Sure.” Snow throws him an amused glance, and he could have sworn she almost winked. “You... do know what that is, don't you?”

He chuckles a little awkwardly. “Of course. I'm just surprised that my presence... is requested.”

“It's not only requested,” David points out. “It would be a great pleasure to see you there.”

Briefly, his hand comes up to scratch behind his ear, then he tilts his head in that minute almost-bow. “Gladly.” Bloody hell, it's really time for him to leave now; the scratchy sound of his voice embarrasses him even more than all that unexpected and undeserved praise.

David returns his nod with a satisfied smile, and Killian's gaze drifts off for a moment, an incredulous smile of his own tugging at the corners of his mouth. When he focuses again and turns around to leave, he notices that Emma's eyes are resting on him; when their gazes meet, she briefly smiles at him and nods.

“See you tomorrow.”

She sounds like she's not displeased about that, and this time her smile makes him truly happy – stupid maybe, because nothing has really changed. She still hasn't said his name, and she's still planning to leave for New York soon... but who knows? He has a feeling that she almost said his name.

When he leaves the hospital, he smiles, too.

[platinumshawnn]

storm banter | Jack Lowden

Summary: Jack relies on reader for distraction from his fear of thunder storms.

A/N: Repost.

Word count: 1,687

Jack was particularly touchy tonight, they had noticed. (Y/N)'s face had been buried in a text book all night, squeezing in three assignments that had only just been finally picked up and started that night, despite them being due at 11:59 P.M. that night -- procrastination. One of their finest skills, or so Jack would always sarcastically say with a roll of his eyes. But tonight there were no sarcastic comments from the blonde Scotsman, just his never ending silent attempts to get their attention by shoving his head in their lap underneath the blanket that had been placed there earlier; the rain beating down against the rain as it poured and poured. 

His lips had pressed to the waistband of their pajama pants and yes, it had distracted Jack's lover at first, but it soon became useless approach as it became ignored, his teasing lips doing nothing. His arm wrapped around their waist, letting out a deep sigh that was clearly exasperated, dramatic to gain even a second of acknowledgement but it went unnoticed; though earning a twitch of eyebrows. Jack repeated the sound, shifting his position in their lap and squirming as he shoved the blanket off in the process. 

"Stop that." A mutter suddenly piped up, his blue eyes looking up at the face that screwed up in annoyance while his head was swatted at very lightly, a blind gesture that just brushed the soft, disheveled hair on top of his head before they proceeded to bend slightly to grab the blanket from the floor and bunch it back in their lap; eyes barely leaving the textbook they furiously flipped through.

 Almost instantly though, he moved the blanket again so it slid to the floor, this becoming a cat and mouse game; the only way he could gain the attention, a distraction, he currently required from the storm that raged on outside. It sounded childish in his mind, but something about them sent his anxiety through the roof -- something about storms being so unpredictable just put him on edge and he out right hated them. He complained about winter a lot more often than the normal person but he even would go as far as saying that he would take below zero temperatures and being snowed in for an extra six months as long as there was never another thunderstorm again.

 After ten minutes of their game of fighting between the blanket, the textbook was slammed down onto the coffee table with a curse. "Jeez, what is up with you?" They snapped, trying to push the blonde off their lap. "Get out of here, I'm trying to study and you're getting on my nerves."

 He remained quiet, biting his tongue as his eyes flickered towards the large windows that looked over London, trying to decide on whether or not to explain himself. It wasn't a big deal to most people, but he felt stupid and embarrassed to say he was afraid of a little bit of thunder -- and up until this point of living with one another for six months, he had never had to face this predicament, his pride being too hard to shove away for two seconds, fearing the constant jokes that could be held over his head.

 His eyes looked away from the window and to their significant other as he sat upright, sat on the other end of the couch while they pulled their knees up and propped the textbook on their knees, pushing their glasses up on the bridge of their nose. "I just figured you could use a break, you know?" He lied, inhaling and trying to play it off. "You've been glued to your laptop and books for three hours. You deserve a break and I missed you today."

 His bogus explanation went ignored and unheard, all of their attention focused back on the book they practically leaned their nose into as they quietly read a sentence aloud before leaning over in order quickly scrawl something into their open notebook. He gave a defeated sigh and remained quiet for the next fifteen minutes, trying to suppress the urge to practically jump out of his skin at each little clap of thunder that came from the sky, anxiously clenching and un-clenching his hands; eyes looking around for something to distract him.

 One particular thunderclap suddenly rang out and caused him to full body flinch, a breathless mutter of ‘fuck’ leaving his mouth just as the power went out and sent them into a state of complete darkness, aside of the glow of a laptop screen that was still on the table in front of them. Jack had grabbed a nearby decorative cushion into his lap to press his face into it while he took a few deep breaths in efforts to calm himself down from his worked up, shaking condition, trying to follow the advice his mom had always told him during storms as a kid, her soft voice in his hair as she would lean down and kiss his forehead before bed. "Count to ten, take ten deep breaths and think of your happy place."

 He had gotten to ten when he heard (Y/N) set their book down and fold their glasses on top of it, sighing. "It's just the storm, the power will be back soon, Jack." They said.

 "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He choked out shakily as the other furrowed their brows.

 "What's wrong?" They asked, moving closer to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you mad at me for not paying attention to you or something? You know I have work I have to get done and there's a lot of it and only so little time-"

 "The thunder." He grumbled, still hidden in the pillow. He jumped again as more thunder boomed from the angry skies over London, letting out a whine.

"The thunder?" (Y/N) repeated, confused. "You're scared of...?"

"Shut up, don't laugh, alright?" Jack said while lifting his head from the pillow and closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the couch. "It's fucking awful, I hate thunder and it's stupid, I know." He slowly said, not seeing the small smile on his partners face as they moved their hand to go to his hair and gently card their fingers through the soft locks.

 "Sweets, almost everybody is a little scared thunder." They tried to reason but he shook his head.

"No, I'm not a little bit scared of it, I'm absolutely petrified." He confessed, swallowing thickly, too embarrassed to even look and see their reaction as he spoke. "I used to have full blown panic attacks as a wee lad, it was the worst thing."

 They pulled him towards their chest by his shirt, arms wrapping around him as they moved until they were lying down, "Okay, just listen to me," They murmured after noticing how serious his confession was, lips pressing to his cheek as he reluctantly complied into laying with them. "Just focus on my voice. Tell me about your day, how was that lunch with your agent?"

 He let out a sputter, "What? Why? It was fine, we jus' talked  about a new upcoming film I'm doing." He said as if the question was the dumbest thing, his body still tense.

 "Just talk." They demanded, rolling their eyes. "What did you have for lunch? Did you guys check out that new little restaurant downtown?"

It took him a moment, stammering and moving the pillow that was in the way, much rather preferring being able to properly hold his lover whose voice was steady and calm; his arms wrapping up and around their midsection, their legs dangling off the end of the couch as they were entwined with one another. "What about your assignment?"

 "Power's down, wifi will be out. I'll worry about it later, now talk." They pushed again.

He sighed and buried his face against their neck, their chin resting on top of his head as he tried to focus on the steady sound of their breathing, relaxing enough to get his voice to work. "Yeah, we...we checked out the place downtown, I had this chicken sandwich. It wasn't bad, a bit too much spinach for my liking but." He explained quietly.

 "Too much spinach?"

"Yeah, I felt like I was a rabbit with how much green was on it, was kind of gross and Gordon Ramsay wouldn't have been impressed." He admitted, barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth as he closed squeezed his eyes shut tighter and let out a deep breath as more thunder followed. (Y/N) spluttered a giggle.

 "What?" Jack asked, confused.

"Nothing, keep talking." They encouraged again. With a deep sigh, he let out a long 'uh' while wracking his brain for something to tell them about, the day becoming a little clearer.

 "That guy who plays the harmonica was out again today, the one who always wears the weird shirt." He recalled. "This little woman was really into whatever he was playing, and I mean really into it. Like you when you hear Tiny Dancer into it." Jack continued, smiling at the memory of how into the song the other always got, a full body effort and moving in a way that he joked looked like they were having a seizure every time.

"Hey! It's a good song, how can you NOT get into it?" The other gasped, feigning mock offense.

"I've heard better music, that's how. It's overrated and I've heard about enough of it-"

"Take that back!"

"-so I think it's safe to say, it's time to retire that God awful CD its on and throw it out." He snickered.

"I'll throw you out before I do that iconic CD, you cheeky shite."

Jack didn't like thunderstorms, not one bit, but they became tolerable because of their conversations; ones that made him entirely forget about the silly fear and laugh harder than usual, he cared a little less and looked forward to thunderstorms more and more each time because finally he found his happy place in those silly conversations.

[megsblackfirewrites]

Working With The Reaper: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jack did his best to smile as he resisted the urge to break the Staff Sergeant's nose. Yes, yes, he had bright golden hair the same colour as corn. Yes, yes, he had ludicrously long eyelashes. Yes, yes, he used concealer to take some of the redness out from his scars. Could they get on to the fact that he was supposed to be shown to his office and not grilled over being “girly”? Because he would really like a chance to get settled into his new environment before he had to actually do his fucking job.

Not that the Staff Sergeant seemed to care. That nasty grin and taunting voice irked Jack to his core. He’d met more than enough assholes like him during his time in the army. They were all the same brand of douchebag. If you weren’t overtly macho and meat-headed, you were some sort of disgrace to all men or something. It was annoying and tiresome; he really did wish they just gave it a rest and grew up. He had better things to do with his time than waste brain cells on them.

“Patterson, aren’t you supposed to be running plates?” a voice demanded.

The man flinched and turned to look at the source of the demand. “Uh, just showing the new guy around,” he said.

“Impressive, considering he has a higher rank than you,” the regal man crossed his arms over his chest.

There was a severity to his gaze that Jack could appreciate. Not a bad looking man, but not someone Jack would be interested in personally. This definitely wasn’t someone that was used to having their authority ignored, especially by those of lower rank. He would have to remember that if he didn’t want to get on their bad side.

“Get back to your desk before the chief finds out you were harassing our veteran with your stupidity,” the man ordered.

Jack watched Patterson scurry off and snorted. “Thanks,” he said.

“You looked like you could use the help,” the man smiled and held out his hand. “Hanzo Shimada.”

“Jack Morrison,” he said as he shook Hanzo’s hand. “You’re my new partner?”

“Yes,” Hanzo chuckled. “Don’t mind Patterson; he’s generally an ass, but he’s good at his job.”

“Sounds like every other job I’ve worked,” Jack chuckled. “So, I’m supposed to have an office on this floor somewhere?”

“Follow me,” Hanzo nodded as he set off down the hallway. “I’ll let you get situated before we go do our rounds. Overwatch doesn’t have a high crime rate this time of the year, but Petras doesn’t like patrol routes growing moss. Likes to remind everyone that we’re still here watching even if there isn’t much to see. Keeps the real criminals from trying anything and the petty ones on their toes.”

“Understandable,” Jack said as he stepped into his office. “Cozy.”

It was cramped and not built for someone his size. He didn’t think even his skinny-ass sixteen year old self would have fit in this office comfortably. The walls were too close and the shelves were cramped in against each other. At least there was a window he could open. That should help stave off a little bit of the claustrophobia crawling up his throat.

“It’s where everyone starts out,” Hanzo shrugged. “Don’t worry; one of the higher ups is getting ready to retire. Then we’ll all get to do the office shuffle and everyone will get more room. Other than the sucker that gets stuck in here, of course.”

Jack chuckled as he set his things down and stretched. “How long have you been on the force?” he asked as he started getting his things in order on the desk.

Pictures of his family; check. Stress cube because a stress ball would just roll off the desk; check. Personal pens because his knuckles were starting to get touchy about the rubber grips on most pens; check. Not bad for his first day. He’d even managed to not forget his cup for paperclips even though he wasn’t sure if anyone even used those in Overwatch anymore.

“Fifteen years total; six in Overwatch,” Hanzo shrugged a shoulder. “Not the career path my parents wanted, but it’s my own path to walk.”

“Could be worse,” Jack smirked. “Could be a drug dealer.”

Hanzo gave a tight smile. “They probably would have preferred that,” he sighed. “They have a low opinion of anyone that is not in business.”

“Oh, joy,” Jack rolled his eyes as he set the bobble-head pug on his desk. “Well, I’m ready for the five-cent tour.”

“Better than the two-cent one,” Hanzo smirked. “There really isn’t much to see. The most you have to worry about is the way to your office and the way to Petras’. Everything else can be found in five minutes.”

They walked down the hallway and Jack stopped to look at the pictures of past Chief of Police in the city. He frowned at one name plate and tilted his head to the side. There was no picture sitting above it and it was clear that there never had been one.

“Where this guy’s picture?” he asked as he tapped ‘Gabriel Reyes’.

“No one knows; apparently, the framed photo was destroyed in transit and a new one was never commissioned,” Hanzo replied with a careful shrug. “Best not to talk too loudly about it here. Petras doesn’t like being reminded of his dead partner and predecessor.”

Jack frowned and shook his head. After a quick tour of the station; it was the exact same set up as every other station he’d ever been in; Hanzo led him out to the cruiser. A German Shepherd barked at them as they approached, fangs bared and saliva flying from its jowls. Hanzo hushed him quickly.

“Sorry, Minami’s a little protective,” Hanzo chuckled.

“You’re with the K-9 unit?” Jack asked as Hanzo opened the door.

“Yes,” Hanzo nodded. “My old partner’s retired; Kita’s enjoying life as a lazy old dog in my sunroom. Minami’s got another year before he’ll be joining her.”

“You get to keep them?” Jack smiled as he let Minami sniff his hand.

“It’s part of the agreement with the unit,” Hanzo smirked. “Kita and Minami wouldn’t listen to anyone else on the force after being with me and my superiors don’t like the thought of sending them to homes where they might bite someone.”

“Not a good ending for service dogs,” he agreed as he scratched behind Minami’s ears. “Who’s a good boy?”

Minami wagged his tail before jumping back in the cruiser when Hanzo whistled. They climbed in and Hanzo pulled out onto the street.

“This is unit 245,” he said as he drove. “Dispatch has a lot of different codes, but any that have 245 at the end are for us.”

Jack nodded. Simple enough. He was going to screw it up at least once or twice. That was inevitable. First day on the job and all that jazz. No one would hold it against him, hopefully. They’d all been the new blood at some point. No use picking on the new guy.

Hanzo drove down their route, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as Minami poked his nose against the metal separator. They pulled over at one point so that Hanzo could speak to a couple of kids on bikes in what Jack guessed was Japanese. He couldn’t say for certain; he personally only spoke two languages and that was about it.

“Korean, actually,” Hanzo corrected when Jack mentioned it. “They’re from my neighbourhood and I was making sure they were staying out of trouble.”

The radio went off and Hanzo gave Jack a flat look. Jack blinked before fumbling for the hand-piece. Whoops, there was the inevitable screw up.

“Unit 245,” he replied.

“That took a while to answer; new guy?” dispatch asked.

“Yah,” he coughed. “What’s going on?”

“Robbery going on down at Joe’s Food Mart,” dispatch sighed. “You’re the closest unit.”

“Heading there now,” Jack replied as Hanzo snapped the sirens on.

Vehicles moved out of the way and they drove quickly to the grocery store that was getting robbed. Hanzo parked the car and popped the back door open as they spotted one lone, balaclava -lad person booking it across the parking lot.

“Minami, go,” Hanzo ordered.

Minami charged after the fleeing person, jumping up to knock them to the ground. Hanzo and Jack raced after the dog, Hanzo whistling to call the shepherd off before he did any real damage to the thief. Jack snapped a pair of cuffs onto the person’s wrists and read them their rights. They left Minami to guard them, smirking as he growled every time the person moved.

They approached the store and heard the rapid-fire retort of a semi-automatic rifle. Jack hissed and put his shoulder against the door, waiting for Hanzo to nod. He shoved forward, lifting his gun up as Hanzo barked out an order to get on the ground. The frightened customers immediately pressed themselves against the ground while the lone thief stood shaking in the corner, their handgun clutched to their chest.

“On the ground,” Jack ordered as he advanced on the thief. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Jace went to the roof,” the thief blurted out as they dropped the gun and immediately fell to their knees. “Please! The Reaper’s got him!”

“Who?” Jack asked as he cuffed the thief.

“Reaper,” the thief whined. “He’s one of the masked men. He’s got Jace!”

Jack growled and ran a hand down his face. That was the one thing he wasn’t looking forward to in Overwatch. Vigilantes were everywhere. Anyone that could put on a mask did so and ran around doling out “justice” when they believed the system had failed them. Theft of property, espionage, breaking and entering; all of it was used when these vigilantes believed the cops weren’t doing enough. And it was always their definition of “enough” that was used. Forget red tape and the fact that things took time to process; gotta go out on their own and beat the shit out of some random suspect that they believe did the crime. Who needs solid evidence when you could just go punch the perp in the face? Idiots.

“Going to get the last one,” Jack shouted to Hanzo before he darted up the stairs towards the roof.

He had an idea of what to expect from a vigilante named Reaper, but he really wasn’t expecting what he found. The man was taller than him, bound in kevlar, muscular as all hell, and packing serious heat. His sawed-off shotgun was pressed against the back of the last thief’s head, his finger sitting on the trigger. A bone white mask like the face of an owl turned towards him and Jack slowly lifted his hands.

“I’m putting my gun away,” he said slowly. “This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

The white mask followed his hand as he put the gun back in his holster. Jack lifted his hands, splaying his fingers wide. The vigilante’s stance didn’t relax.

“I’m going to take a step closer,” Jack said. “Just a step. That’s it.”

He slid his boot forward and watched the vigilante. They remained tense, but he could see the dangling hand twitching towards the second shotgun hanging from his belt. Jack spread his hands wide.

“Thank you for subduing the thief,” he said. “I’ll take him down to the station now.”

The vigilante growled at him and pressed the shotgun harder against the whimpering man’s head, twisting the muzzle sideways. Jack kept his expression neutral. He didn’t want the vigilante to see how nervous he was. He didn’t want them to think they had more power than they did. He wanted the thief punished properly and a buckshot to the head was not justice.

“He’s a thief, Reaper,” he said. “Blowing a thief’s head off isn’t really justice, is it? That is what you want, right? Justice for the store owner?”

The white mask turned before Reaper pointed towards the discarded rifle. Jack glared at it and then at the thief. So this was the asshole that had a semi-automatic. For fuck sake; was this guy trying to compensate for a small dick or something? Fucking hell; who brought a fucking AK to a grocery store robbery?

“Bringing a rifle of that caliber to a robbery is overkill, but if he didn’t actually use it, he doesn’t deserve to die,” Jack said. “I’m going to take a few steps closer so we can talk face to face.”

He slid closer, waited a moment, and took another step. Reaper watched him approach, as unmoving as a statue. He was less than an arm’s reach from Reaper, his hands still up and away from his gun and every other device he could use on the vigilante to beat them into submission. He wanted trust, however small it might be, and he wanted the vigilante to co-operate.

“This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed,” he repeated.

Reaper moved so fast Jack only had a moment to tense before the muzzle of the second shotgun was shoved under his jaw. Reaper loomed over him, his finger resting on the trigger.

“And what if I want it to?” Reaper growled.

His voice was heavily distorted, more of a rasp than an actual voice. It sent a tremor down Jack’s spine, but he kept his breathing even as he looked into the black slits where Reaper’s eyes would be. Now was not the time to show fear. He wasn’t in control of the situation, he knew that, but he wanted Reaper to hand him the control. Hostage situations were always dangerous and this one was no different. He just had to be careful.

“You want to add ‘killed a cop’ to the list of things you’ve done today?” Jack asked. “Look, Reaper, I get it. Sometimes the system fails because some jackass gets a really good lawyer and can walk away without ever suffering for what they did. I get that. It frustrates the hell out of me too, but killing this thief isn’t going to solve that.”

“Would definitely send a message,” Reaper growled. “Don’t fuck with my city.”

“It’s not your city,” Jack said. “You aren’t the law here, Reaper. You can’t play judge, jury, and executioner. That’s not how justice works. That’s never been how justice works.”

Reaper paused and slowly cocked his head to the side. He let out a low laugh before pulling the shotgun away from Jack’s jaw. Jack worked it slowly in relief, watching Reaper closely.

“You are such a Boy Scout,” Reaper chuckled. “Not even a glimmer of rust under that golden exterior, huh?”

Before Jack had a chance to respond, Reaper twisted and smashed the shotgun against the thief’s head. They dropped like a rock, blood gushing down his face from a split eyebrow.

“The hell are you doing?” Jack demanded as he went to move. “That’s going to get blamed on me, you ass-mmph!”

Jack stiffened as a warm mouth pressed over his. He tried to look at his nose to get an idea of what Reaper looked like, but the bone white mask was situated in just the right way to hide his facial features. Reaper pulled away and Jack caught sight of a bright red tongue rolling over dark lips before the mask was back in place.

“See you around, Boy Scout,” Reaper chuckled before there was a flash of smoke.

Jack coughed and waved the smoke away, glaring at the spot Reaper had been. He rubbed his lips self-consciously because damn did the man know how to kiss before he cuffed the thief and hauled him back down the stairs with the rifle slung over his shoulder.

Hanzo did his best not to bristle as Petras heaped praise on Jack. The Chief was smiling and clapping Jack’s shoulder, almost as if he had stopped the robbery all by himself. Because the new boy on the block could totally take on three armed robbers by himself without any back up. Jack smiled politely as Petras continued talking, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“While I appreciate your approval, Chief, my partner did most of the heavy lifting,” Jack said. “He calmed the patrons, sent Minami after the first thief that was trying to flee, and kept the second thief subdued while I retrieved the third. If you should praise someone, praise him.”

Hanzo shot Jack a curious look. He’d had a number of partners over the years and no one dared to talk back to Petras. It was strangely refreshing if not worrying. What was Petras going to do to the new guy since it was clear he didn’t understand the pecking order around here?

An uneasy smile spread across Petras’ face. “Ah, yes, Captain Shimada,” he said. “You did exceptional as well. You handled the situation better than most; I’m pleased that no one was shot.”

“Firing on civilians is unnecessary,” Hanzo inclined his head. “If you are finished with us, sir, I will get started on my paperwork.”

“Of course,” Petras smiled before waving them both out of his office. “I expect good things from you, Jack.”

Jack inclined his head as they left the office. He kept his face neutral until they stepped into Hanzo’s office. As soon as the door closed, his pretty face immediately turned down in a scowl and he let out a low growl.

“It’s a bad sign if I already hate my boss,” he growled. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually,” Hanzo sighed as he activated his holographic interface and brought up the paperwork they needed to fill out. “He tries to soften you up with praise. Never heard someone talk back to him before. It’s strangely refreshing.”

“I’ve had drill sergeants more terrifying than him,” Jack chuckled. “He hardly fazes me. Bullies rarely have the brains to be imaginative.”

Hanzo laughed before tossing the screen over to Jack to start on his paperwork. “Bully indeed,” he agreed.

[platinumshawnn]

storm banter | Jack Lowden

A/N: this was a request that I deleted apparently but have decided to repost it.

Word count: 1,689

Jack was particularly touchy tonight, they had noticed. (Y/N)’s face had been buried in a text book all night, squeezing in three assignments that had only just been finally picked up and started that night, despite them being due at 11:59 P.M. that night – procrastination. One of their finest skills, or so Jack would always sarcastically say with a roll of his eyes. But tonight there were no sarcastic comments from the blonde Scotsman, just his never ending silent attempts to get their attention by shoving his head in their lap underneath the blanket that had been placed there earlier; the rain beating down against the rain as it poured and poured. His lips had pressed to the waistband of their pyjama pants and yes, it had distracted Jack’s lover at first, but it soon became useless approach as it became ignored, his teasing lips doing nothing.

His arm wrapped around their waist, letting out a deep sigh that was clearly exasperated, dramatic to gain even a second of acknowledgement but it went unnoticed; though earning a twitch of eyebrows. Jack repeated the sound, shifting his position in their lap and squirming as he shoved the blanket off in the process. “Stop that.” A mutter suddenly piped up, his blue eyes looking up at the face that screwed up in annoyance while his head was swatted at very lightly, a blind gesture that just brushed the soft, disheveled hair on top of his head before they proceeded to bend slightly to grab the blanket from the floor and bunch it back in their lap; eyes barely leaving the textbook they furiously flipped through.

Almost instantly though, he moved the blanket again so it slid to the floor, this becoming a cat and mouse game; the only way he could gain the attention, distraction, he currently required from the storm that raged on outside. It sounded childish in his mind, but something about them sent his anxiety through the roof – something about storms being so unpredictable just put him on edge and he out right hated them. He complained about winter a lot more often than the normal person but he even would go as far as saying that he would take below zero temperatures and being snowed in for an extra six months as long as there was never another thunderstorm again.

After ten minutes of their game of fighting between the blanket, the textbook was slammed down onto the coffee table with a curse. “For fuck sakes, what is up with you?” They snapped, trying to push the blonde off their lap. “Get out of here, I’m trying to study and you’re getting on my nerves.”

He remained quiet, biting his tongue as his eyes flickered towards the large windows that looked over London, trying to decide on whether or not to explain himself. It wasn’t a big deal to most people, but he felt stupid and embarrassed to say he was afraid of a little bit of thunder – and up until this point of living with one another for six months, he had never had to face this predicament, his pride being too hard to shove away for two seconds, fearing the constant jokes that could be held over his head.

His eyes looked away from the window and to their significant other as he sat upright, sat on the other end of the couch while they pulled their knees up and propped the textbook on their knees, pushing their glasses up on the bridge of their nose. “I just figured you could use a break, you know?” He lied, inhaling and trying to play it off. “You’ve been glued to your laptop and books for three hours. You deserve a break and I missed you today.”

His bogus explanation went ignored and unheard, all of their attention focused back on the book they practically leaned their nose into as they quietly read a sentence aloud before leaning over in order quickly scrawl something into their open notebook. He gave a defeated sigh and remained quiet for the next fifteen minutes, trying to suppress the urge to practically jump out of his skin at each little clap of thunder that came from the sky, anxiously clenching and unclenching his hands; eyes looking around for something to distract him.

One particular thunderclap suddenly rang out and caused him to full body flinch, a breathless mutter of fuck leaving his mouth just as the power went out and sent them into a state of complete darkness, aside of the glow of a laptop screen that was still on the table in front of them. Jack had grabbed a nearby decorative cushion into his lap to press his face into it while he took a few deep breaths in efforts to calm himself down from his worked up, shaking condition, trying to follow the advice his mom had always told him during storms as a kid, her soft voice in his hair as she would lean down and kids his forehead before bed. “Count to ten, take ten deep breaths and think of your happy place.”

He had gotten to ten when he heard (Y/N) set their book down and fold their glasses on top of it, sighing. “It’s just the storm, the power will be back soon, Jack.” They said.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He choked out shakily as the other furrowed their brows.

“What’s wrong?” They asked, moving closer to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you mad at me for not paying attention to you or something? Because you know I have work I have to get done and there’s a lot of it and only so little time-”

“The thunder.” He grumbled, still hidden in the pillow. He jumped again as more thunder rang out, letting out a whine.

“The thunder?” (Y/N) repeated, confused. “You’re scared of…?”

“Shut up, don’t laugh, alright?” Jack said while lifting his head from the pillow and closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the couch. “It’s fucking awful, I hate thunder and it’s stupid, I know.” He slowly said, not seeing the small smile on his partners face as they moved their hand to go to his hair and gently card their fingers through the soft locks.

“Sweets, almost everybody is a little scared thunder.” They tried to reason but he shook his head.

“No, I’m not a little bit scared of it, I’m absolutely petrified.” He confessed, swallowing thickly, too embarrassed to even look and see their reaction as he spoke. “I used to have full blown panic attacks as a wee lad, it was the worst thing.”

They pulled him towards their chest by his shirt, arms wrapping around him as they moved until they were lying down, “Okay, just listen to me,” They murmured after noticing how serious his confession was, lips pressing to his cheek as he reluctantly complied into laying with them. “Just focus on my voice. Tell me about your day, how was that lunch with your agent?”

He let out a sputter, “What? Why? It was fine, we jus’ talked about a new upcoming film I’m doing.” He said as if the question was the dumbest thing, his body still tense.

“Just talk.” They demanded, rolling their eyes. “What did you have for lunch? Did you guys check out that new little restaurant downtown?”

It took him a moment, stammering and moving the pillow that was in the way, much rather preferring being able to properly hold his lover whose voice was steady and calm; his arms wrapping up and around their midsection, their legs dangling off the end of the couch as they were entwined with one another. “What about your assignment?”

“Power’s down, wifi will be out. I’ll worry about it later, now talk.” They pushed again.

Sighed and buried his face against their neck, their chin resting on top of his head as he tried to focus on the steady sound of their breathing, relaxing enough to get his voice to work. “Yeah, we…we checked out the place downtown, I had this chicken sandwich. It wasn’t bad, a bit too much spinach for my liking but.” He explained quietly.

“Too much spinach?”

“Yeah, I felt like I was a rabbit with how much green was on it, was kind of gross and Gordon Ramsay wouldn’t have been impressed.” He admitted, barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth as he closed squeezed his eyes shut tighter and let out a deep breath as more thunder followed. (Y/N) spluttered a giggle.

“What?” Jack asked, confused.

“Nothing, keep talking.” They encouraged again. With a deep sigh, he let out a long ‘uh’ while wracking his brain for something to tell them about, the day becoming a little clearer.

“That guy who plays the harmonica was out again today, the one who always wears the weird shirt.” He recalled. “This little woman was really into whatever he was playing, and i mean really into it. Like you when you hear Mr. Brightside into it.” Jack continued, smiling at the memory of how into the song the other always got, a full body effort and moving in a way that he joked looked like they were having a seizure every time.

“Hey! It’s a good song, how can you NOT get into it?” The other gasped, feigning mock offense.

“I’ve heard better music, that’s how. It’s overrated and I’ve heard about enough of it-”

“Take that back!”

“-so I think it’s safe to say, it’s time to retire that God awful CD its on and throw it out.” He snickered.

“I’ll throw you out before I do that iconic CD, you cheeky shite.”

Jack didn’t like thunderstorms, not one bit, but they became tolerable because of their conversations; ones that made him entirely forget about the silly fear and laugh harder than usual, he cared a little less and looked forward to thunderstorms more and more each time because finally he found his happy place in those silly conversations.