#nobody second guesses this because it's on brand for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

Retribution

TW: Dark!Reader. Smut. Language. Public sex.

SUMMARY: You seek out Rafe to avenge your broken heart.

WORD COUNT: 2400

REQUESTED

Dark!reader getting back at JJ fucking Rafe while holding eye contact with him the entire time and Rafe totally unaware of JJ

Retribution

JJ Maybank hated Kooks. It wasn't a secret. The way his sarcasm was directed as more of a means of pain than humor was a reason the feelings were well beyond mutual. But nobody hated JJ more than Rafe Cameron. And it was because of this exclusive animosity they wore for one another that had you set to him as your destination. Knowing it was the only way for JJ to understand the pain he caused to your heart. The war raged to an already fragile muscle he exercised almost as much as the excuses he attempted to make against his actions.

"Please don't make me drink alone..." You whined as you approached him in the surf of the beach. Only his toes kissed by the meeting of each thrusting wave as you offered him a glass bottle of some off brand alcohol. He accepted and moved to the side despite the fact you had over a mile of beach to choose from.

"Maybank prefer the cheap stuff?" He asked, always affected by the mention of any pogue, but something specific in his tone as he spoke against JJ. Especially when you started dating him.

"I want to make a bet..." His brows rose.

"Okay..." You bit your bottom lip. "I can drink faster..." His eyes narrowed in observation of you.

"And I'm guessing you want something?" You leaned forward with a gentle nod, teasing him and making your intentions well known.

"A kiss." His expression softened from any former angst that was in his attempt at contentment. Something mirroring relief or even anxiety came in the near lift of a smirk as his eyes illuminated.

"And if I win?" To this, you set your hands on his thigh and positioned yourself in place of your recent palm. You now straddled him.

"Winner's choice..." You rocked against him, his breath hitching beneath you.

"What about-" he motioned back towards the heart of the beach, just out of sight of you and Rafe.

"Do you want me to go back?" His fingers dug into your hips as his head waved in rejection.

"Then cheers..." But as you went to carry the neck of the bottle to your mouth, he pulled it away. He brought you close enough to taste the whiskey he had prior as a kiss of his breath teased your eager mouth.

"You didn't follow the rules..." You reminded as your hands ran over his shoulders and collected behind his neck.

"I usually don't. Breaking them is more fun." To this, he compressed the distance separating you. Soft lips to your own surprised you with the carnality you expected. Passion remained in reserve as he took this initial interaction as a test for what you were prepared for, as he didn't want to frighten you with his deprivation.

"Let's say I won..." He explained while kissing down your jaw after making you breathless. A brush of his thumb over your nipple leaving you to shudder.

"I want to touch you..." You nodded. This simple act of consent motivating his hand beneath your bikini. The second your nipple was exposed, his fingers began to roll it in a pinch.

"I don't care why you came to me...but you're not leaving until I've seen every inch he doesn't deserve to..." He wrapped his second arm around your hips, forcing you to feel his swollen cock at your sex.

"While you feel every inch of me..."

"Rafe..." You were taken to the sand, your body at rest with the warm grains beneath you as he shuffled to bring you as close to him as possible. But as you reached for his face, he took your wrists above your head with his singular dominant grasp.

"Keep them there..." His breath teased your lips as you craved more. The recklessness of how exposed you had been was enough of an aphrodisiac and yet you didn't expect to need his kiss this deeply. Convincing yourself it was because it was forbidden, in truth, it was because he knew how to kiss you. He didn't rush or kiss for the sake of being a lover. He kissed as if he had the ambition of washing the memory of all others away. And with only the tease of his fingers and the kiss itself, it was successful.

"Until you feel my tongue." Your eyes opened to understand what he meant before he kissed down your neck, chest, and continued lower still. The line of your suit was infiltrated in a taunt before a finger slipped beneath the fabric.

Your hands reached for him in the desperation for anything but the useless sand beneath your grip.

"Not yet..." As your lips parted to plead, a finger curved inside of you, the pressure of your g-spot located, sending your back to pull into an arch.

"Jesus, has he ever made you come?" You refrained from answering as nothing had felt like Rafe's fingers. Absolutely nothing.

But you were only allowed a moment of this before he retracted those slow pumps.

"Rafe..." You whined his name as a prayer, hoping it would be answered somewhere in the hollow of his own patience.

"I've thought about this for so long...I'm gonna savor it..." His breath was hot in the remaining distance made from your chest to your hip, his fingers pulling aside your suit as he smirked.

"You're already pouring out for me baby and I've barely touched you...But I still have so much to do so unless you want to be overstimulated, pace yourself ..." He warned as he carried a single stripe between your folds.

"Shit..." One taste and he dove into you. Your legs pulled over his shoulders and your fingers wrapped through his locks in desperation. He smirked when feeling you drive yourself against his tongue. But he was the dominant between you. At least for now. And with a set grip to your hip, he pinned you into the floor of the beach.

"Rafe...RAFE!" Your lips pried apart in desperation as he pulled your thighs wider.

"How long does it take him?" You struggled to do anything but moan. His skillset rivaling even your fantasies. As he quickened that very touch until retracing his tongue and denying you the pleasure.

"I want to know if he deserves the way you're drowning me..."

"Longer-it takes longer." You confessed. Not necessarily because he wasn't versed, but because he was unable to focus on one thing without needing a change. The irony, not lost on you as you knew he viewed you the same. He has gotten comfortable. Bored. And found something new to test out. But Rafe was devoted like a man starved as he savored you throughout until you were on that edge for him.

"You're so beautiful baby...I am going to make you come in every way he did but replace all those fake orgasms with real ones..." He spit between your lower lips strictly for the reaction you offered.

"And then, I'm gonna do it again for me..." He flipped you onto your knees and removed your bottoms before two long fingers pumped into you. Each reset making you more desperate as you hands convicted to the sand with purchase.

"Bad girl getting fucked like a whore but feels like an angel and yet I'm the lucky son of a bitch that have the contradiction..." He spoke while pulling you up to his chest.

"I'll never take it for granted, baby. Not the way you sound. The way you feel. And definitely not the way you're gonna come..." He took a hand around your neck as the other sashed down to your clit.

"Focus on me baby...forget about him..." But as he spoke these words, your eyes fell to JJ from when he searched for you once noticing your absence. It could have been minutes or hours as it no longer mattered in the contrast to how Rafe felt.

"I'm gonna put in it-" You craned your arm around the back of his neck to pull him in to kiss you.

"Hard..." You issued softly as he nodded. The immense stretch from his cock making you gasp as you had forgotten about JJ long enough to deny the guilt and pleasure at war in your lower abdomen.

"You're so big!"

"Does it hurt?" You nodded quickly as he bottom outed with each thrust. Not ceasing them, but slowed them for effect.

"Good." He growled carnally in your ear as your eyes rolled closed.

"More...please..." It was all you could ask for.

"How do you want to come first?"

"On top." You spoke quickly, wanting JJ to see the way Rafe held you, the way you would arch your back, while also keeping Rafe unaware of his audience.

He withdrew himself from you and laid flat on the sand, your fingers gingerly playing with the fabric.

"I wanna kiss every inch of you, Rafe..."

"Let's compromise," He directed your fingers to drive in a trail based on your nails. "Leave marks, baby...I want to look at them and remember how this felt..."

"You plan to forget?"

"Not as long as I live." He pulled you down on to him. Your mouth wide and desperate as he pulled you down onto a kiss.

"You set the pace and I'll follow..." He guided as you began slowly until he ended up taking over. Your nails leaving the marks he requested as he sneered beneath you. You noticed immediately at the rush this brought him. A soft sadist beneath your touch.

"Harder..." He breathed to you as you dug your nails deeper, his teeth clenching before he battered your sex, your breasts taken by each hand.

"I love those little sounds you make when I do this...even more cause you mean it..."

"Please keep...keep playing with me..."

"Sweetheart...I'm not fucking playing." You were rolled into the sand, his toes anchoring him flat as his body weighed you still, his hips thrusting against yours in a bruising rush that you welcomed with ease. You forfeited the care against JJ and focused solely on Rafe.

His breath. His muscles. His body. His presence. His fingers. His tongue.

His cock...fuck...his cock. Penetrative and thick, curving perfectly inside of you to hit every spot JJ needed to work to achieve. And you adored that he did. Just not that he did it with others as well. It was what made your coming orgasm stronger. Knowing you were being watched. Knowing he would see how Rafe was making you come. In a way he never could, and he'd now never be allowed to try.

"You feel so good-" You explained as he nodded into your shoulder.

"Say it again."

"You feel so fucking good, Rafe! Better than JJ!" He clasped his hand over your mouth."

"Then he and nobody else deserves to hear how I'm about to make you scream..." Your body buckled and erupted beneath him as he held you in place. Wave after wave of ecstasy met with his hips as he slowed himself just enough for you to have only a hint of overstimulation.

"On my face, baby...you belong here..." He guided you there until you say on his chest, thighs framing his chiseled features.

"I'm gonna suffocate you-"

"I hope so..." He groaned as he sunk you down onto him. Only dark eyes rolling closed as you called out his name. Your body rolled and guided so he could savor you completely while JJ was in awe. Somewhat aroused to witness but also more bewildered. Your body having never moved quite that way for him and because of it, he seemed to study you. But he was undeserving. At least without a reminder.

"Let go..." You guided Rafe before positioning yourself with your ass towards JJ. A smile over Rafe's face validated his approval as you took his dripping cock in your kiss. But as you tried to find a rhythm, he was expertly between your folds.

"Slow down, I'm gonna come again..."

"I said every way..." He explained as you worked him well. Twisting and sucking as he snickered and groaned. Cursed and your name called in a summoning before he sucked hard solely on your clit and abandoning your opening.

"Please tell me he's taken you here..." He asked, teasing your ass as your body trembled.

"No..."

"Good..." His thumb brushed, supplying enough pressure to tease.

"Next time, I'm starting here..." He bit your ass cheek before slapping it. "Now come on my face, I can't take much more of your mouth. Ride my tongue baby...mmmhmm..." You worked with his tongue before your body shook over him.

"Yes!" You called into the sky as he pulled your legs as close to him as possible. But something else found pressure. A foreign pressure you never had before, something building deep in your core , a pressure that tested your bladder.

"Rafe, stop! I have to...I'm gonna...oh, fuck-" but he only smiled and kept you pinned as you poured over him, his mouth taking every drop.

"Knees. I need to come..."but as you watched him prepare to take you from behind, you lowered yourself over his thighs, hands at a rest to set him back down.

"I wanna swallow you, Rafe...every drop..."

"Oh shit...I'm not gonna last..."

"Good...I want it now..." You moaned, eyes kept to Rafe long enough to see JJ tense. He knew your mouth just as well and felt the loss of watching Rafe shift beneath you.

"Fuck! Oh God!"

You smiled. "Yeah?" You broke as he sat up on the support of one palm, bent over you.

"I'm gonna come...fuck...keep going...oh...come here...." He lifted your ass to fuck the dripping pussy beneath. Only his fingertips, as you came as he had. New cum joining the former . Covering him as he called out your name.

"Fuck, I needed that..." He grinned.

"So did I..." You bit your bottom lip once swallowing him.

"Is he still there?" Your eyes widened.

"N-no-" He looked over his shoulder.

"Good." You were taken back to the sand.

"Because this time it's for me, and I'm not gonna be as nice..." He was inside you again, cock hardening from within.

"Fuuuuck..." You breathed in finality, having arrived for a purpose but remaining for a different one entirely.

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx smut #obxfanfiction #drew starkey

902 notes · View notes

ahsokasupremacy · 8 months

Text

Alright, here are my Top Ten funniest guesses (+1 that I bet nobody ELSE will guess) for who Inquisitor Marrok actually is!

You are most welcome to correct me or let me know who YOU think is most probable.

And just to challenge myself, I’m NOT putting Ezra. Because that would be too obvious.

1. Barriss Offee

I’m serious when I say that this is probably the most likely.

We know that she is a very important character in Ahsoka’s life, the writers could be trying to mislead us into thinking that the Force User is a man when really we have no confirmation that they are. Plus Dave Filoni has said in interviews that he refused to have the character make cameos just because he wanted to save her for later. Also, many people already speculated that Barriss became an Inquisitor after Order 66, explaining the double-sided Inquisitor lightsaber.

2. Darth Maul

Their build is a little too skinny for Darth Maul, and also wow, he must really be getting up there. And also, he died in Rebels. But when has that really ever stopped Disney from resurrecting him? I just think they should keep bringing him back. For the bit. I want the opening scroll for the upcoming Daisy Ridley movie to contain the words “Somehow, Darth Maul returned…”

3. Bo Katan

I highly doubt this because her character arc on the Mandalorian is already concluded, but I can kinda see her doing this as like, a side gig. Homegirl is probably broke from paying off Mandalore’s restoration fees. She’s not a Force User unfortunately, but when has that ever stopped her? I like to believe that Bo Katan simply woke up one day and decided to be Force Sensitive and it all kinda worked out for her somehow.

4. Lux Bonteri

If this is the option David Filoni is going with, BOOO. Yet another character who isn’t Force Sensitive. If you really think about it, Dave Filoni probably wants to include someone with an important history with Ahsoka, someone close to her that she held dear and that betrayed her and that she still has lingering feelings for.

Well actually that person is Barriss, and yknow, she kinda went MIA. Sooo the next best thing we could get is Lux, I guess!

5. Anakin (Force Ghost)

Daaaad, what are you doing here?

Well, the ghosts of Obi-Wan and Yoda told him to fuck off and get a job. So here he is. He’s putting in the work! He’s logging onto his Zoom! Ahsoka is gonna be sooo surprised when he finally takes off the mask and reveals it was him along. Just you wait! It’s gonna be so funny!

6. Korkie Kryze

Now we’re really starting to get big brained here.

In Legends, we have Jacen Solo. In the sequels, we have Kylo Ren.

But in the Brand New Republic era? Hark, a new villain arises. Korkie is embittered about being left behind and forgotten by his biological parents, Satine and Obi-Wan. And now he is out for revenge against all the Force Users and Mandalorians who abandoned him. Mwahahaha. We should’ve known he would turn out like this, he’s a ginger after all.

7. Ventress

This would technically make Dark Disciple non-canon? But I don't think Dave Filoni cares, considering he hilariously made the Ahsoka novel non-canon. Ventress is obviously very powerful and capable of dual-wielding and she would make a great candidate for an Inquisitor. Plus her and Morgan Elsbeth are both former Nightsisters so points for rapport.

8. Anakin’s Evil Clone

Hey, I mean Palpatine HAD to start somewhere, right? He didn’t just create Snoke without practice. I like to think he tried making a second Anakin at first, only to discover that Clonakin was a huge pain in the ass and doesn’t wanna follow orders just sit on the couch all day eating the space equivalent of Hot Cheetos.

9. Cal Kestis but he’s evil now

This one pretty much goes against everything we know about Cal but hey, I’ll take a live action Cal cameo any day now. I’ve been on the frontlines defending my babygirl Anakin since day one, don’t even try to lecture me about the ethics of stanning Darksider Cal.

9. Mara Jade

OK no more messing around!! I'm serious this time!

EVERYONE LISTEN CLOSELY!

I think the reason why Dave hasn't made any references to Eli, or Ar'alani, or Vahnya must be because he grew up on the 80s Legends trilogy (not the canon trilogy). Whenever Thrawn is mentioned, there is a direct reference to Heir to the Empire. The same novel where Mara Jade is introduced as the Hand of the Emperor. Coincidence? I think not! Obviously, this must be part of Dave Filoni's master plan to softlaunch the upcoming top secret Thrawn series adaptation.

10. Starkiller

My only real proof is that his name (Marek, Marrok) kinda sounds similar?

Making Starkiller canon would create a whole bunch of problems for the Star Wars timeline. I think his origin story is too Mary Sue-y for even Dave Filoni to try and integrate into current canon.

However, it would be interesting to see a showdown between Anakin's two former apprentices. Interesting, but unlikely.

And finally, for my last guess, I will tell you exactly who Marrok REALLY is. Kathleen Kennedy told me personally, so don't get mad at me! She said it, not me!

11. Luuke (the clone Palpatine made out of Luke's dismembered hand)

This is the ONLY correct answer.

Us Timothy Zahn enjoyers know that this was really Luuke all along. I told you, Snoke isn't the first clone that Palpatine made! I imagine he had a lot of downtime and got bored and decided to fuck around, and that's how we got Luuke.

And yes, I would cast Sebastian Stan to play him because I'm petty AF.

#ahsoka #ahsoka show #barriss offee #lux bonteri #anakin skywalker #eli vanto #thrawn #mara jade #bo katan kryze #cal kestis #korkie kryze #darth maul #my post #ventress

181 notes · View notes

camilasstories · 9 months

Text

❝feeling unreciprocated❞ chapter 1 | jungkook x reader

summary: Sleeping with one guy after feeling rejected wasn't a good idea, but sleeping with another one and another seemed to be even worse plan. Especially with your handsome crush behind the wall, who is as confused as you about your ways of coping with a broken heart.

trailer | next chapter

Your phone was buzzing from all the notifications you got after you had turned on wi-fi in your settings. You ignored them and started to scroll mindlessly through your Instagram to kill the time as you were waiting for popcorn to be ready in the microwave.

The anxiety and nervousness were escalating to the point you were bitting your lower lip which became more red and puffy. Like on every Friday night since you and your roommate made an arrangement that once a week you two would organize a small movie-night that nobody else could take part in it. And you weren't exactly sure what was the reason behind you distressing about such a trivial matter, but you fathomed soon enough, with a minor help of your dear friend, it was because of the second arranger of your undertaking.

You sighed as you rubbed your cheek in defense.

It had been already three months since you two ended up living together and for these three precious months you were truly fucked, frankly speaking, but who wouldn't be in your place? Let’s be honest - everyone would lose their mind over this boy sooner or later. Moreover, it wasn’t just your personal opinion as far as you knew, but you were the only one who had to endure this killing pleasure all by yourself. You should be grateful, you thought to yourself with a pity that you couldn’t use the circumstances to your advantage. You just couldn’t figure out how and you were afraid it would stay that way if you kept behaving like a simple coward. On the other hand, it would be super discomforting if you ended up stop talking to each other because of your sweet, silly crush. So you were trying to shut it down once and forever, but with no effects.

"Is it ready?" you jumped a little hearing a male voice behind your back.

"No, not yet".

"And now?"

"No, Jungkook, it's not ready yet” you shook your head to emphasise that he would have to wait just a little bit longer for a 3-minute meal ��Just pick a movie, I’ll bring it to you in a moment”.

“Okay, just don’t eat it all”.

“Mhm” you managed to utter while you lowered down your head to stare into the screen, but you kept observing him from the corner of your eye.

He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and grey pants that hung from his hips giving away its oversized cut. He looked casual, but his tattoos elevated the outfit making it look… hot. Not to forget his messy hair that were a bit too long. You liked it, but you were able to hide it, anyway. You weren’t crazy to such a point you would run after him, right?

“You have some stains on your shirt” you had told him before he entered the living room, but he just shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the sofa that happened to be the most expensive furniture in your flat. You pitched in together at the beginning of your moving in. It was his condition, actually, but then he didn’t know you were a girl. Had he known it, he wouldn't have made you chip in, however it was too late to cancel the order. You didn't mind. At least you two were in a happy possession of a brand new sofa, which you used very often. Not in this way, of course.

You put the popcorn in front of him, which made him turn his gaze from his phone at you.

"You're addicted" you said slightly amused.

"I didn't complain when you were using yours" he scoffed and put it away "But okay, mummy" he made sure he stressed the last word.

You knew he was just being cordial, but you were flushed anyway, because of the mummy part. The teasing was unbearable when was done by him, because well, you used to take everything he said too seriously and keep second-guessing what he actually meant. Soon, you realized it needed to stop as you were going mad because of it and the worst part was you was aware his words didn't indicate anything more serious than just a friendly reminder you were his "bro". And it sucked.

You didn't let yourself to make a comment so you just sat in the sofa making yourself comfortable.

"What are we watching?"

"Something random, we've watched almost everything" he left the pilot on the coffee table and stuck a pillow behind his back to have something to lean on "So how was your week, miss smart brain?"

You didn’t have to think for too long about your reply.

"As always. Lectures, then practice and lectures again and... meetings with Gia. I'm just happy it's Friday again" you sighed and folded your arms thinking about the last five days "And you?"

"The same thing. Almost" he chuckled seeing your discontent, grumpy expression "I didn't sit with books ninety percent of my time" obviously, It was an exaggeration, but it might have been true if you wouldn't have Gia by your side. Your best friend.

"So it wasn't the same. I should have known that" you rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway "So..." you waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't bother too much to shower you with details.

"I was at Vixen's with my friends".

It was predictable his place to go to was another new club. Somehow, it suited him. Such places were perfect for him. He was outgoing, open with conversation with newly met people and he just liked the atmosphere of big crowds and loud music. Nothing you could compare yourself to so it was a nice surprise you two got along. Still, you thought there was an abyss between him and you on so many levels that even his friends looked at you oddly the first time you met them, but you were just his roommate. Not his girlfriend he choose.

"You should go one day" you looked at him surprised taking popcorn into your mouth "With Gia, for example".

"Maybe" you changed the topic looking at TV. It would be nicer to go with him this time "You picked a trashy film".

"Hey, it's random. I told you" he pushed your leg with his feet "Get lost!" you just laughed shortly and lied down on the sofa making him choose the floor this time.

"My turn" he murmured something under his breath, but sat on the floor, eventually.

The fact was, you saw each other only one day during the week, on every Friday, of course. Sometimes maybe in the mornings or in the evenings if your schedules allowed that. You totally understood he had his own friends, plan etc. so you weren't disappointed, because you weren't even certain if he saw you as his friend or only as his roommate. You just expected from him a little, little attention.

"Do you want pillows?" you asked noticing he took his place without anything to cover or make himself comfortable.

"No, I'm good" he didn't even look at you while answering your question and took his phone out from his pocket.

That was the hard part in all of this. He wasn't that invested in your friendship, at least he was giving this type of impression, so you had the right to be doubtful when it came to his feelings. Maybe it stood on the level called "roommates, nothing less, nothing more" with an arrow "you will never get to the next level, we're sorry for the inconvenience" next to it, so you were stuck.

His position enabled you to see everything as well as to smell his scent because his head at the level of your face as he was sitting in front of you. If you wanted to have a picture of what it was like - just imagine a really heavy, manly perfume coming right into your nose. It wasn't getting any easier for you, unfortunately. You were melting.

You tried hard to focus on the movie, but the ring tones were successfully preventing you from doing so.

You didn't want to come as being nosy, but somehow you couldn't help yourself so you raised your head from a comfy pillow, so you could have a full view of his phone's screen. He was checking his instagram account as you did earlier, nevertheless it wasn't what made you disturbed.

The texts were one by one showing on his notification bar with a loud sound, so Jungkook turned the silent mode on his phone. You saw him frowning his eyebrows and playing with his lip ring at the same time, which got you to make an ultimate move. You pulled yourself up a little bit so you could follow his actions, he opened the conversation. You knew it was wrong of you to look at his private texts, but he didn't move or change his place so you took it as an allowance to give it a look. Just one, you promised, but you could tell it may not have been the last.

min_bora: hi jungkook! min_bora: it was great to see you at vixen's typing...

It wasn't confusing at all. It was just a normal text, however still a hard thing to swallow, again. It was from a girl, overall, so it made you reckon if he was really with his friends like he had said? Like Jimin or Taehyung. Or Namjoon. It wasn't your business, but still you weren't exactly the most happy person in the world if he really lied to you.

min_bora: you looked so handsome without your tshirt ;) not my words but harin's haha

You almost groaned seeing the last text. What was that? A pub or a social club with stripping? Or even worse - harem, which was an obvious overstatement. You just hoped it wasn't it and he would deny it. Fun thing, it shouldn't have concerned you but it did. Maybe if it happened to be the truth, you would finally get rid of your stupid feelings. Perhaps, it was the key to let it go...

"Did you just look at my fucking texts?" he smirked leaning his head back so he had the picture of your face upside down.

Jungkook saw your empty expression as you had got lost in your thought few seconds earlier. You opened your lips wanting to say something, but you were too cogitative to reply right away.

"No, of course not" you shook your head lowering your gaze, but it seemed like you had a large writing "a liar" on your forehead.

Of course, he didn't believe you as he felt your gaze on his back when he was about to text back so he took a pillow and threw it at your face, while you blushed immediately all over your cheeks. This thing was something he didn't notice to your liking.

"Instead of making fun of me, you could help your friend" he pretended to whine while looking at the messages.

Friend? So maybe you were already on another level, which made you instantly worried about getting friendzoned, but it felt like it already was the thing in your situation.

You weren’t making fun of Jungkook, it was far from it. Curiosity just won over your honour and your morals.

"Difficult task" you held your chin with your one hand, bitting your lips and reckoning if you should say it "I don't know what to do with a text that says you look handsome without your t-shirt".

"Any advice?" he rolled his eyes watching "min_bora" sending him some silly emojis, which didn't get slipped by you.

"Don't take your t-shirt off next time?"

"Oh, you don't say" he hissed "She spilled her drink on me by accident. I had to change".

"You bring your clothes with you?"

"Yeah, gym clothes" he said brushed his hair back "They were in Namjoon's car, I forgot them two days earlier".

"Oh".

jeon_jk: hi bora jeon_jk: to the next one :)

You weren't expecting this kind of text got typed to this girl, but he was a free man. He could do anything he wanted, not like you had something to say in this matter, but this one coming...

min_bora: i was wondering... min_bora: do you have tattoos only on your arm or maybe somewhere lower... ;)

"Are you kidding me?" you mumbled quietly so he couldn't made out what you had said and you covered your face with your hand completely uncomfortable.

And envious at the same time, knowing you wouldn't get the courage to simply ask him for a coffee, yet these girls had all of it. Even the view.

You thought that maybe he would react in some way. Like getting embarrassed that you saw it or something, but no. He was unfazed, like nothing too extraordinary happened. Maybe he got used to it, to attention and it didn't surprise him. He just sighed and closed the conversation down leaving Bora on a read.

Jungkook leaned even more so his head was laying on the sofa and his long hair were within reach of your hand. His eyes were closed and his breathing was calm and steady as if he was ready to take a nap or just thinking heavily.

"Are you okay?" you asked with a tranquil voice not to disturb his peace.

"Yeah" he replied with his eyes closed, but this time the tone he used managed to put you off "Let's just finish this movie".

It was a clear signal something happen or it was just his casual attitude towards random things, like everything was the enemy to him and his job was to brace himself. You never talked about your problems, not even complaining about something more private than your day or how bad the lunch tasted. Everything was kept to yourselves and you didn’t have the nerve to ask him what was the reason behind his changing moods. Maybe he was like that. His nature could be edgy, even by looking at his image anybody could say that. You didn’t dwell on the subject assuming he would prefer it to be talked with his closest friends rather than a roommate.

So you just stuffed your mouth with popcorn contemplating what could be wrong with him until you saw closing credits at the end of the movie.

When it finished, he stood from the floor and helped you with cleaning the mess, but soon he went to his room, got changed. Of course, he didn’t stay that night in a flat which made you sad for a known reason, but who you were to stop him.

Honestly, having this type of a crush was quite a burden if you were the one to speak up. Constantly feeling the strain was exhausting, sometimes you couldn’t sleep and think straight in situations which he was involved in. It wasn’t normal and you wished you could do something with it, because it was getting you nowhere. Maybe if you made the decision but… You didn’t want to ask him out and at the same time you didn’t want to let it go. It was a total rollercoaster of mixed feelings that day by day made you run out of energy.

The rest of the evening was calm as usual and you spent it on your phone waiting for a new story from Jungkook which sometimes he posted on his Instagram, but it didn’t happen. You thought about checking Jimin’s account, but you gave yourself a break.

You took a towel and your pyjamas so you could get a shower and you were on your way to the bathroom when you got a new notification, which you checked right away. In your message box was a text that was totally unexpected.

hyunn_wonn: hi there, love

You looked at it confused bringing your knees close to your chest after you had returned to your bed.

And then not the best idea came to your mind.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts x you #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagines

195 notes · View notes

ceasarslegion · 3 months

Note

My roommate and I have been sitting here discussing coffee creamer guy for the last 10 minutes. Given the average limit for human stomach capacity is between 2-4L, coffee creamer has a high density, and planes famously tend to make people a bit nauseous, I said 'you just know that guy is throwing up later'. My roommate says that for the average person, this may be likely, but they think they could do it, and if this guy did it, maybe he had reason to believe he could, too. It has sparked a mild debate and they said they want to know if you think you could do it too.

Anyway thanks for sharing because our household is now plagued with thinking about that guy and it has caused irreparable damage to the collective psyche.

Hi! Im glad i caused a calamity sharing a work story that will plague me until the day i die

Allow me to recite how this moment went for me, just for all of your amusement.

Picture me. I'm tired. It's the end of my shift on the second last day of my work week, and I'm stationed on the position everybody hates whether they are officer or passenger: the guy who picks people at random. This sucks.

The next guy who walks in has one bag, nobody is with him, he looks nice. Yay! I won't get yelled at! Come with me sir, come come! I'll get you past that line, i just need to rifle through your bag real quick okay :))

He's not rude. He's friendly. We talk about our days and i go through the pockets of his backpack top down, and I find a 2L bottle of delight brand caramel machiatto flavored coffee creamer. Oh no! Sorry sir, that's way too big to go :(( the good news is that you can still give it to like a family member or friend outside of the checkpoint if you dont want to get rid of it

He goes "oh its fine, that's my bad" and i let him consider it as i get my hands back in there. I hear a popping noise. I look back up. He has popped the lid and is now throwing his head back and drinking it like a squeeze bottle of gatorade after a hard workout. This man is suckling caramel machiatto flavored creamer like a newborn calf that owns Beck's Odelay on vinyl. He is not stopping. I can't look away. I... I guess that's allowed. I am vaguely upset and making a face one can best describe as ":/"

I finish his bag. He finishes the creamer. He looks a little pale. He asks where the garbage is. I scan his boarding pass and point to the garbage and stutter out "uh... line number 3 when you're done."

He says thanks, grabs his stuff and goes. My supervisor jumpscares me and asks if I want to sit on x-ray for a bit. I'm off in half an hour. I watched that guy drink coffee creamer for 8 minutes. Sure, yeah. I'll do x-ray. Whatever.

To answer your question no, i have IBS. I would violently shit myself for hours at a time if i tried to attempt this. I'm sure he's having a great plane ride as we speak now that his arteries no longer exist

#work tales

61 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

plssss write more of the eddie x luna lovegood reader <3

for you! eddie x ditzy reader ♡ fem!reader | 1k words

People keep taking down your posters for the food drive, maybe because you'd worded it funny. Okay, you hadn't worded it funny. It was a food drive for the supernatural. It was a Do-It-Yourself blood drive.

"Vampires need to eat too, Eddie. Regular blood drives aren't inclusive."

Which was… another conversation entirely. Anyways, your posters keep getting pulled down. Eddie's been trying to replace them when you're not around, but you sneak up on him and ruin the whole thing.

You don't talk. You don't really make very much sound, so it takes him a few seconds to realise you're standing to his left. He almost swallows the tack he's holding between his teeth.

"Shit," he says, scared. And then, closing his eyes, "Shit."

"People keep taking them down," you say informatively.

"Yeah?" he asks, pretending that he didn't know as he pushes the last tack into the new poster.

You hum. "Mm-hm."

You start down the hallway. Eddie races to follow you, your strides carefree and too quick for him. You must have something in mind, some place you're going to to show so much purpose.

"Hey, babe. Babe," he says, reaching for your hand. "What's the rush?"

You don't stop, though you twine your fingers through his and squeeze really hard for a few seconds. "I'm gonna make some more posters."

"No, that's okay. I made copies of the one you gave me down at the print shop. Save your poor hands the extra work," he says, half-expecting you to ignore him.

You slam to a stop. He almost knocks you over, says, "Fuck, sorry," as you gaze up into his face with a ditzy smile.

"Oh. Thank you."

He looks down at your joined hands. "Yeah, no problem."

Robbed of a purpose, you wait for Eddie to decide where you're going. Though, you don't say this, and Eddie spends a few seconds wondering why you're looking at him.

"Wanna get food?" he asks eventually.

You nod and search for his other hand, walking backwards and pulling him with you. "Baked apple pies-"

"And ice cream," he finishes knowledgeably. You smile even more.

"Do you think there's a reason why apple pie tastes better all crushed up in ice cream?" you murmur.

Eddie pulls you to a stop and pushes the door open behind you. There's nobody around now that school's finished for the day and you're a little louder as a consequence, not because you've ever cared much about being judged, you're just naturally soft spoken, less so when you're alone with Eddie. It's one of those things that makes him want to smother you in kisses.

Another one of those things, you're waiting for his response without a hint of frustration. Only your special brand of affection.

"It's the hot and cold combination. Like cookie dough. It gets cold without going all hard," he guesses.

You trust him enough to walk blindly backwards down into the parking lot. Kisses, smothering, etc.

"Do you think vampires like apple pie?" you ask.

"Do you think they like ice cream?" he counters. Better to ask you then guess wrong and grievously embarrass himself. He pulls open the passenger door of the van and you climb in, your skirt showing entirely more thigh than it needs to. Eddie reaches out to pull it down a touch.

"Definitely don't like ice cream. Too cold," you say, slamming down into the seat.

Eddie nods and closes your door, jogging around the hood to climb in himself. You're making yourself comfortable, slipping down into an unsafe slouch. "Can I-"

"I always say yes," he cuts you off. "Why do you ask?"

You pop your converse up on the dash and throw your hand across the console expectantly. "I bet they hate pie," you say decidedly.

He takes your hand and starts the van. "How come?"

"It's squishy. Necks aren't squishy."

It couldn't be easier if you'd dropped it into his lap. Eddie takes his hand off of the wheel and his foot of the pedal and turns to you, grinning. "They're not?"

"No way."

You're unsuspecting as he pulls your hand and leans toward you. "Not soft at all?"

You draw your eyes from your shoes where they wiggle on the dash to his wolfish smile.

"C'mere?" he asks.

You put your feet down and lean towards him. He feels pretty bad for taking advantage of your trust and obliviousness. Not bad enough to consider stopping, but a little. A whisper of guilt. It doesn't last long, any thought besides the softness of your skin beneath his lips disappearing completely as he ducks in to kiss your neck.

"What are you doing?" you whisper happily.

"Testing your theory," he says against your skin, sounding similarly pleased.

He sucks your neck and you giggle, a dreamy breathlessness that he adores, worse when he bites down lightly and rolls your supple skin between his teeth.

When he's sure he's left a small mark he pulls back. "There," he says, punctuating it with a much kinder kiss overtop the scandalised skin. "Super squishy. Vampires would like apple pie almost as much as you do."

You take his face into one gentle hand and stroke his cheek, your eyes wide. "Do you want one back?" you ask.

He plants a quick kiss on your cheek and sits back in his seat. "That's okay, you can save mine for later. Something to cut the sugar."

"Are you saying I'm not sweet?" you ask mildly, more perplexed than offended.

"After the last hickey you gave me? I think we can safely say you're the opposite."

You laugh some more and the sound is like spun silver, your head lolling back against the seat. He's lying through his teeth – you're the sweetest thing this side of The Driftwood River.

"Do you think vampires can get hickies?" you ask.

Eddie bursts out laughing and almost crashes the van into a fire hydrant.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson fic

2K notes · View notes

marvelousmop · 6 months

Text

The Mystery of John Burr the Chestnut Man

The Land of Oz is a series with many an obscure characters - most people could probably tell you about Dorothy, the Tin-Man, the Lion, and the Scarecrow, but how many know of Ozma? Or Tik-Tok? What of Professor H.M. Wogglebug T.E.? And that's just scratching the surface, considering there are so many books (around 40 considered "Canonical"), and then beyond that there are characters who pop up in works connected to Oz... and then there's the case of John Burr the Chestnut Man. Who the Hell is he?

Well, first, some context:

In the year 1900, L. Frank Baum published The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, complete with illustrations from W.W. Denslow. Due to their collaborative efforts on the book, it was agreed that both men should have the rights to the characters and various elements within the first book. This arrangement may sound a bit unusual, but really it should be fine as long as Denslow and Baum don't have some sort of falling out.

Guess what happened in 1902 while they were working on the Wizard of Oz Stage Musical?

So, Denslow and Baum went their separate ways, with Baum going on to write "The Marvelous Land of Oz", while Denslow continued illustrating for books such as "The Pearl and the Pumpkin". He also worked on a small book called "Denslow's Scarecrow and the Tin-Man", featuring a short story about the duo getting into some hijinx after deciding they were tired of working endlessly on the Wizard of Oz stage show - I'm sure he wasn't working through anything there.

Around the time Marvelous Land got published, he also worked on a newspaper series called "Queer Visitors from the Marvelous Land of Oz" which served both to promote the sequel and increase the reach of the Oz brand. It's also one of the few remaining artefacts of a time when Baum really wanted Professor Wogglebug to be the mascot of the Oz series, but that's a discussion for another time.

Denslow sees this and thinks "Well, I'll show him! I'll make my own newspaper series!" and so we got Denslow’s Scarecrow and the Tin-Man (yes he used the same name as he did for the book - he also split that book into two halves and published them in the newspaper series, so that’s confusing). Unlike Baum's strip, this series mainly stuck to the events of the 1902 stage musical, so Dorothy never left Oz and is also referred to as Dorothy Gale (a name Baum wouldn't use in prose until Ozma of Oz) or Dotty (her show-exclusive nickname). The first story also makes reference to a Good Witch covering the poppy field with snow, which didn't happen in the book but did happen in the musical. Other than this though, they keep references deliberately vague - no mention is made of King Pastoria II, Cynthia Synch, or Dorothy’s pet cow, Imogene (who replaces Toto in the stage musical - similarly, this series makes no reference to Toto). It’s interesting to see an Oz-related work be influenced by a very popular adaptation other than the MGM movie.

Okay, but who is John Burr the Chestnut Man?

John Burr is introduced in the second story in the Scarecrow and Tin-Man series, and immediately he raises questions. Apparently, he's the Fairy Godfather of the Scarecrow (which possibly links him to the Scarecrow's 1902 musical origin wherein he comes to life because Dorothy wished for a friend, but this isn't made explicit) and possibly the Tin-Man. It's not clear. The Scarecrow and the Tin-Man are joined at the hip for most of this series though, so it hardly matters. In his first appearance, he transports the Scarecrow, Tin-Man, and the Cowardly Lion down to Earth, making him one of the most powerful characters in the series at this point.

Later in the series, he hands the Scarecrow and the Tin-Man "Magic Passes" because nobody will tell these poor guys how money works, so they just keep stealing things (relatedly, the Scarecrow and the Tin-Man book I mentioned earlier where they're performing in the musical mentions that the two just aren't paid for their work... again, I'm sure Denslow wasn't working through anything there)... and that's it. That's all we know of him. He enters the narrative, fulfils this oddly powerful role for someone who isn't even hinted at in anything prior and is then forgotten about entirely.

Also, he sells chestnuts, that's why he's the chestnut man.

[Honestly, the funniest thing about this whole situation to me is that Denslow's Scarecrow and the Tin-Man series is just significantly better than Queer Visitors from the Marvelous Land of Oz - better art and the writing is just very charming - both are probably equally racist though, so be warned if you want to seek these out].

#Land of Oz #w w denslow #John Burr the Chestnut Man #l frank baum #mop's inane ramblings #the wizard of oz

52 notes · View notes

sweaterkittensahoy · 1 month

Note

hello!! for prompts because i saw the absolute banger of a reply you had to a very pretty very scarred hambone:

hambone/brady? either postwar during the VE day celebration crazyness/quiet moment together

Or!! Prestalag ofc pilot/bombardier goodness where hams just an absolute rat of a man and but hes bradys bombardier damnit nobody touch him

Okay, so I don't prefer to write stalag fic, but this image hit me like a bus, so I am making an exception:

Ham's face and neck hurt when it gets cold. There's no way to wrap himself up enough that it doesn't hurt. The scar on his neck throbs, but it's not that bad. The one his face, it aches every moment of every day, throbbing and sparking and even sometimes giving Hambone a twitch at the corner of his mouth. The Stalag doctor said he probably had nerve damage, couldn't guess if the pain will ever stop or get better.

Most days, Hambone just deals with it. They've all got aches and pains. He's not special. But some days, when the pain really gets high, that's when the twitch starts, and Hambone can't forget for a second that he's scarred. In the Stalag, he's nowhere near the worst off, but he wonders what he'll do after they're out. Who wants to be around a guy with a scar like this and a twitch to match?

Brady climbs in next to Ham, bringing his blanket with him. "Come here," he says.

"Fuck off," Hambone hisses.

"Come fucking here," Brady repeats. He's leaned against the wall, arm lifted so Ham can curl in.

Hambone sighs and scoots over, resting his unmarked cheek against Brady's shoulder as Brady tucks both their blankets around them.

Brady runs his fingers through Hambone's hair, then slips his hand lower, brushing his thumb back and forth over the scar on Hambone's cheek. He digs in a little by Hambone's ear, pushing down hard until he touches the corner of Hambone's mouth, then sweeps him thumb up nice and soft from Hambone's mouth to his ear.

"You're alive, Ham," Brady murmurs, repeating his little massage on Ham's scar. It helps. Relaxes the tissue and makes the twitch settle. Diffuses the pain to some extent, which makes it easier to deal with. "You're alive, and I'm glad about that every goddamn day. I know you don't like the scars, but I do. Because as long as I can see them, you're alive."

Hambone tucks in closer, slipping an arm around Brady's middle. He's thinner than ever, same as the rest of them. That he has the energy to take care of Hambone seems impossible. "What am I gonna do when we're out of here?" he asks. "I know my face wasn't great before, but now--"

"Hush," Brady says. "You know what you're gonna do. You're gonna get a haircut and a good shave, and then you're gonna put on a brand new, clean as can be uniform, and you're coming home with me and charming the whole fucking family. And if your scar hurts everyday, I'll do this everyday. Okay?"

Hambone hates that he needs the reassurance, but it's cold and he hurts, and they're hungry, and the war just keeps going and going. "Maybe I'll grow a beard," he says to make Brady laugh.

"You promised you wouldn't until I could," Brady says. "And I don't think I ever will."

"The sacrifices I make for you," Hambone says, and he shifts his mouth to kiss Brady's thumb as it touches the corner of his mouth again.

"We're getting out of here," Brady says. He tilts Hambone's head up so he can kiss his forehead. "And we're going to live our best life, you and me. And I will kiss your scars three times a day and tell you I'm glad you have them."

Hambone closes his eyes and breathes deeply as Brady works his scar again. "Okay," he says. "That sounds doable."

#hambonebrady #masters of the air #stalag fic #i'm as surprised as anyone #john brady #hambone hamilton

22 notes · View notes

class1akids · 2 months

Note

This is silly but it's the second time in a row that I've been like "I hope we see [insert random character] in the next chapter" and they show up! Last time it was Kirishima just before Bakugo's finale with AFO and now it was Todoroki. Anyone on your wish list to show up for a brief little cameo while the focus is elsewhere? I imagine we're about to get a lot based on this plot point of memories combining.

No, because I was counting that Shouto should show up right about now. We had some Shouto panels every 10 chapters or so in the final arc, but I was like “nah, not gonna happen”.

So I was really delighted to see him. And it was so much better because I managed not to get spoiled this time, so I was really reading the chapter and seeing Dabi and Toga i was even thinking, I wish Shouto would come up too! But then I was thinking - nah, it’s gonna be All Might, Bakugou or Uraraka.

But yay! It was Shouto and hit me full force!

I’m honestly mostly hoping that:

1. We will get some reflection from Tomura on things he hasn’t reacted to yet like Twice’s death and the Dabi reveal for example.

2. The memories interact with the story meaningfully. Like I’d prefer less memories but then see inner thoughts from Deku / Tomura about what that means and have them impact the fight rather than just rolling out lots of flashbacks.

3. I’m mostly hoping for the Origin chapters to come together in a way that makes sense.

Ch 412 referenced Izuku’s origin. Ch 414 referenced Shouto’s. I hope that we will see a tie-in with Katsuki’s Origin chapter too and then see how these all impact Tomura’s. And then I guess maybe when All Might vestige gets chucked against Tomura’s wall, we’ll tie in to his Origin/Rising.

I mean in a way Tomura’s memories do tie in with his Origin as he’s seeing first meeting with his allies / friends (“the misfits nobody else wants to play with”). That’s Tenko’s brand of heroism and in another world he could have been baby!Izuku’s hero too.

#c1a asks #bnha manga spoilers #bnha meta #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura

20 notes · View notes

pedroshotwifey · 6 months

Text

Favorite Bounty Chapter 4

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 7.3k

Chapter tags/warings: angst, ouchy, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Summary: All it takes is a beskar-covered bounty hunter and his little green child to transform your life completely. Settling into life on the Razor Crest is easy enough, but what happens once the tension between you and the Mandalorian gets to be too much? Will you be able to handle the conflict that keeps getting thrown your way?

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

The first thought in your head, when you woke, was that it was fucking cold.

The second, coming in right after the first is that you are alone in Mandos empty bunk — that hit you like a ton of bricks. Ignoring the chill racking over your body, you look around the dark cot, trying — and failing — to spot a gleam of Beskar. The tears that suddenly well up in your eyes are involuntary, and you shake your head, trying to will them away quickly so you can pretend like it never happened.

You really shouldn't be disappointed, but you can't help but feel upset, and the freezing temperature is not doing much to help your case. To be honest, you don't know whether to focus your anger on Mando for not being able to decide how he feels, or at yourself, for convincing yourself the man can choose a side. Turns out, you are both fools.

You find that you are able to get the tears to stop almost as soon as they came, though that might be because they turned to fucking ice on your cheeks. The cold makes you want to bundle up in the thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders and hide in the bunk all day to conserve body heat, but you know that's not an option. At the very least, you are going to have to find Helmet Head to ask him when he plans on fixing that particular issue. Fuck.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes to try to calm the sudden buzz inside of you. Whether it stems from anxiety, anger, or disappointment, well, that's anyone's guess. Kriff, it’s probably some twisted combination of all three. Before Mando, nobody had ever caused you to have to think like this, to have to rack through your brain for answers on how you are feeling.

Sighing, you sit up, tugging the blanket further around you as you start to pry the bunk door open. The damned thing is about a million times harder to open than it used to be now that the control panel is busted and the edges are iced shut. Soft curses slip out through your grinding teeth as your muscles strain to pull the hunk of metal up and open.

You are actually starting to warm up from all the movement by the time it flies open, surprisingly just giving away all at once, causing you to lose your footing and be knocked onto your back. You mutter another curse as you stare at the sliding door that now rests in place on the ceiling. Maybe you should just leave it open so it can mold there instead, fuck whatever Mando has to say about it.

You only lay there for a few seconds before you lift yourself back up to get out of this icebox, and when you do, you suddenly forget about the cold, because the heat that rises to your cheeks is enough to melt you almost completely. As you peer out of the opening and into the hull, you lock your gaze on Mando, who is standing right outside. He probably heard your pathetic attempts to get the door open and took pity on you by lifting it himself. That would explain why it just unjammed so suddenly. You can feel your face growing red with embarrassment.

Neither of you say a thing as you stare at each other, the silent battle only broken when Mando turns around and starts to walk away. You can hear a voice in your head screaming to stop him, but you find yourself unable to act on the command, glued to the spot where you still sit on the bunk. You thought at the very least that he would have the decency to say hello to you, but you've landed yourself all the way back at square one. Complete fucking strangers.

You aren't sure how much of this back-and-forth you are going to be able to take. For a second, you consider the possibility that The Mandalorian may quite literally be two different people, and you almost laugh at how silly that thought is. Your brain is trying to make excuses in any way possible to rule out the truth — that Mando is genuinely just an asshole. What kind of guy decides it is any kind of okay to flirt with you when he’s bored and then cast you away as soon as he gets his fill? All of a sudden, a new line of thought brings itself to light, one that you wish would have stayed away. What if it was you?

What if you're the reason he decides not to acknowledge you? What if he finds you annoying, or clingy, or rude? What if he doesn't find you attractive? What if he thinks that you went too far last night? What if he thought of you as no more than stress relief? What if he regrets keeping you on his ship in the first place? You try to shake the ideas from your head, but they just keep coming, pulling you down until you feel like you can't escape them.

You close your eyes in concentration, trying to push the thoughts away. You decide at this moment that you aren't going to let that bastard get to you. No matter what, you won't let him see how he makes you feel. It takes you a second, but once you feel like you will be able to keep a level head, you push yourself out of the bunk. Your shaking resumes as soon as your bare feet hit the cold durasteel floor of the hull.

****

You find Mando up in the cockpit, laying on his back with his helm set under the dash, seemingly working with some wiring. He has one leg kicked straight out and the other is bent with his boot flat on the ground. You can see the child sitting on his torso, his back resting on Mando’s bent knee, distracting himself with a small metal ball. If you weren't so determined to be upset right now, you would probably smile at the domestic sight.

Before you move any further, the child peeks his head around Mando’s thigh and catches you standing in the doorway. The shiny ball falls forgotten onto the floor as the kid coos excitedly and pushes himself up to half-waddle, half-run to you. He throws his tiny arms in the air and extends his fingers, wiggling them up at you expectantly. Okay, now you’re smiling. You at least manage to hold in a laugh out of spite as you respond to the kid's grabby hands and pick him up, settling him on your hip.

When you look back up you see that Mando has pushed himself out from under the dash and is now sitting up against it, watching you interact with the kid. You will yourself not to blush when you find yourself at a loss for words. On the way up here, you had planned out a conversation so that it wouldn't be awkward when you inevitably had to talk to him — clearly, that didn't work out how you had hoped it would.

“Hey,” you say, averting your eyes back to the kid. Really, that's the best you’ve got? The Mandalorian just nods back at you and sets the tool that was previously in his hand down. You watch him as he gets up and walks over to you, stopping somehow both closer and farther away than you would like. There is a moment of silence before you look back at him, tilting your head so that you can stare into his visor.

He says nothing as you stare, but he shifts in a way that suggests he is getting ready to speak. You’ve noticed that he does that a lot — gives away when he wants to say something. When he does so, you usually find yourself trying to predict what he’s going to say, and you’re quite good at your little game, if you do say so yourself. However, this time, you have no idea what might come out of his mouth. It may be selfish, but you find yourself hoping that whatever is said, is in the form of an apology. Actually, you would take a simple hello, maybe a good morning, possibly a question of how you slept — any form of fucking acknowledgment will do.

You want to slap yourself for thinking like that, for lowering your standards to the dirt below your feet in hopes that this man might make up his mind and take you for his own. Maybe it's the fact that you’ve been without company for so long, or maybe it’s that you simply had missed general intimacy, but whatever it may be, you’ve realized that you miss belonging to someone, and them belonging to you in return. You swallow down a lump in your throat as you try not to let your feelings show in your expression. The last thing you need is for the Mandalorian to see how pathetic you are when you feel alone.

“I have to leave again,” the Mandaorian tells you as he stops shifting. Now, you do feel your face fall, and you can’t even find it in you to care. His voice seems colder than usual, and it feels like an extra punch to the gut. He almost sounds pained to have to talk to you, and you suddenly feel the urge to throw up. You messed up that bad, huh?

“What do you mean, why do you have to leave?” you try not to sound panicked as you question him.

“The town that I went out to find yesterday was deserted. They had close to nothing in terms of food, let alone fuel,” he pauses as he searches your expression, waiting for you to butt back in again, but you stay silent. “I should have better luck with this one, but it is farther away,” he finishes. By the way he says it, you have a feeling you aren't going to like the answer to your next line of question.

“How far?” you ask him, your voice quieter now. He looks at you, and then at the ground before answering, like he doesn't want to have to look you in the eye anymore.

“About two days there, and two back if I choose not to stop and rest.” He turns around and starts to collect his tools into a bag, leaving you with a worried expression. How does he suppose you’re supposed to refrain from freezing to death while he goes out again? And to add to that, how does he expect to stay warm outside for so long? You swear the man just doesn’t fucking think sometimes.

“Mando,” you say when you are able to form a coherent thought in the fog of your mind. It comes out a little harsher than you intended, and you see the Mandalorian flinch ever so slightly in response, but you do nothing to correct your tone. “How in kriff do you expect any of us to not freeze our fucking asses off while-”

“I have a backup generator,” he says simply, cutting you off. You continue to gape at him, waiting until he turns back around to face you before you roll your eyes and put your free hand on your hip. At this point, you don't even care if you seem childish — he really plans on leaving you and the child on the Crest with this supposed “backup generator” that is probably older than the ship itself, in the middle of this icebox planet while he runs off to some town that probably doesn’t even kriffing exist. Great, just fucking great.

“You’ll be fine,” he says with a finality that makes you flinch. Yea, you probably deserve that. He keeps talking as he resumes his cleanup. “There should be enough food to last you and the kid at least a week, and I'll be back before then no matter what.” You just watch him with slanted eyes as he continues to answer all of your unspoken concerns. The air of confidence in his voice as he speaks is so apparent that it makes you want to punch that stupid bucket right off his stupid head.

“The generator should last just as long, if not longer, and the kid tends to want to sleep more when he’s cold, so you won’t have to worry about him causing too much trouble,” he finishes up his cleaning and walks back to you, stopping just as close as last time. “You’ll be fine.” Again, he says it in a tone that makes you wish you had never confronted him in the first place. You have nothing more to say to him, so you nod and turn on your heel, taking the child down to the kitchenette for his breakfast. You notice as you leave how silent the kid had been during the whole interaction between you and Mando, as if he could sense the tension between the two of you, and it almost makes you laugh… almost.

****

Less than two hours later, Mando is walking back down the ramp of the crest after setting up the generator — which is doing little to warm the ship, much to your chagrin. There were no words spoken since you left the cockpit other than Mando telling you to shut the ramp behind him and to stay on the ship. You had simply nodded and followed to watch his descent back into the snowy abyss. So now you’re a prisoner? Great.

Once you could no longer see the gleam of beskar through the flurries, you did as he asked and made your way back to your own makeshift cot for some much-needed alone time. The kid is asleep in his pram, and with Mando gone, the Crest is almost eerily silent, save for the quiet buzz of the generator coming from somewhere above you. You are thankful for the strange comfort that it brings, the soft hum just enough to lull you to sleep. As your eyelids slip close, you register the fact that you probably shouldn’t be sleeping this much, but at the moment, you can't find it in you to care.

****

You are only able to sleep for about an hour before you are woken by the kid. His soft coos and yawns make their way to your cot and you can't help but smile as you get up and go lift him out of his pram. You can immediately tell that he's hungry, his big eyes boring into yours, begging you for food as if he hadn't eaten for days. You tuck him into the crease of your arm as you make your way to the kitchenette.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you play into his game. “I bet you must be starving.” He looks up at you and gives you a pitiful nod, and you have to bite your lip to hold back your smile. After you set the kid down, you turn to the cabinet and reach for the top shelf, struggling to reach the desired package as you stand on your tip-toes. Eventually, you are able to maneuver your fingers enough to grab onto it and pull it down. Your nose scrunches as you read the label; Carrots and Frog. The child seems to have the opposite reaction, suddenly squirming in his seat and reaching out for the box.

You laugh as you pour about half of the package out into a bowl, heating it up before setting it in front of the kid. “Here you go, honey,” you give him a knowing look. “I’ll have to talk with your daddy,” you laugh again as he immediately lifts the bowl to his mouth and starts to slurp it down, some of the broth trailing down his little chin. “Clearly, he’s neglecting you,” your tone is playful as you sit down next to him and wait for him to finish. As you sit in silence and watch the kid slurp up his meal, you realize how much you have come to care for him. If anything ever happened, you would break you to have to leave him.

You frown as you think about that even being a possibility. You know that Mando has been acting a little differently lately, and your stomach drops as the thought again comes to mind that he is sick of you. Surprisingly, it doesn't bother you in the sense that it makes you insecure, but instead, you find yourself panicked at the thought of being kicked off the ship. If he makes you leave, you would likely never see the little womp rat again. You realize that you have become way too comfortable living on the Crest, to the point where you consider it home. You quickly shake that thought off before it can consume your thoughts and further ruin your day.

After the kid finishes up his breakfast you introduce him to hide and seek, which he likes a little too much. You end up playing the game nonstop until dinner time rolls around. He ran out of new places to hide after about an hour, so it was pretty much just a guessing game between the same handful of spots. You drew it out of course, but it was repetitive enough to wear you out more than it would have if you had a bigger space to work with. The kid finds it absolutely amazing that you keep finding him, and the toothy smile he rewards you with each time is enough to keep you playing.

He only stops to eat dinner that night after you promise you can pick the game up first thing the next morning — which you do, of course. This ends up being the routine for the entirety of the time Mando is gone, and by that time you almost find yourself regretting telling the child about it. You know deep down that you’ll do anything to keep him happy though, so of course that's a lie.

Well, until you can’t find him, at least. Of course, it’s on the day that Mando is scheduled to return that the kid finally finds somewhere new to hide. You had checked all of the usual spots with no results — twice. You didn’t panic at first, using the logic that he was probably just moving around at the same time as you. But after about an hour and a half without so much as a giggle, you start to worry. There's no way he could have gotten off of the ship without the ramp alerting you, and you’re pretty sure he can’t fit inside the walls — but that doesn’t stop you from unscrewing a few panels just in case.

You waste another thirty minutes like that, looking in places you never would have thought he could reach. Even though the Crest is still cooler than usual, you find yourself sweating when you realize you honestly have no idea where he could be. Mando should be back likely within the next few hours, and he’s going to come back to his missing child. He’s going to fucking kill you. He trusts you with one kriffing thing and you somehow screw it up. How do you manage to lose a whole ass child?

Just as you’re about to go up to the cockpit and com for Mando — which is probably a bad idea in retrospect — you hear a soft pang come from behind you. You spin on your heel and walk slowly towards where it came from, trying to open your ears in search of another.

“Kid?” You call out softly and get a coo in response. The relief that washes over you is as if someone dumped a bucket of water on you. You call for him a few more times, inching toward his responding sounds every time he giggles or bangs against something. You feel like a kriffing idiot when you end up at the door or Mando’s bunk. You never even thought to check here. You made a habit of keeping out of there when he’s out, and you didn’t realize the kid had enough strength to open the still-broken door on his own.

You quickly spring into action, putting all your weight into lifting the door and sliding it back, watching as big eyes are slowly revealed to the hull. He doesn’t seem to have hurt himself, but you do notice that there are quite a few drawers and cabinets open. The kid had clearly been digging around, likely looking for something else to play with. You sigh as you take in the small mess he made, knowing you’re going to have to clean it before Mando gets back. For now, though, you need to get the child to bed.

“Oh, honey,” you tell him as you climb into the bunk. “We can’t be in here, sweetie, this is your daddy’s space and I don't think he would appreciate us looking through his things.” You lean down to scoop the kid up, ignoring his adorable babbles of protest. He always gets extra grumpy this time of day, though that's usually a good sign. If he’s grumpy, he’s worn out, and if he’s worn out, he’s tired — making your job of getting him to sleep much easier. You giggle and plant a kiss on his wrinkly little head. “Oh, don’t be mad at me, little man,” you say, stroking one of his comically large ears. “It’s your bedtime anyway.”

Before you leave, you let yourself glance around Mando’s room — the kid isn’t the only one curious about the Mandalorian, and you didn’t get a chance to look around since it was so dark when you had been inside it. You’re almost surprised to see little trinkets linking the shelves above the cot and small signs of wear and tear on the cabinets that tell you the room has been lived in. It's like you had expected everything in the bunk to be completely sterile and unpersonalized — much like the shiny armor he dons 99% of the time. You don’t know why you thought that, it’s kind of a silly assumption. Mando may be a warrior, but he is still a man after all. You shake your head and flip the light off as you retreat back to the hull with the child starting to fall asleep in your arms. Now that you're sure the door won't freeze again, you slide it back down into place.

You only take a few steps into the hull before you hear the kid snoring. He shifts in your arms and you make a point to move as carefully and quietly as you can towards his pram. Thank the maker for the way too hard-core hide-and-seek sessions, this might be the quickest you’ve ever been able to put him to bed. Normally, you have to sit for him for a minute and hum softly or tell him a story before he starts to drift off. Opening the pram, you gently unravel the snoring kid from your arms before placing him into the crib, covering him with a blanket up to his tiny chin. He looks so peaceful that you have the urge to stand there and watch him for a minute, but that plan is surrendered as a shrill pinging noise makes its way through the Crest.

You initially jump as the sound breaks the silence, but quickly calm yourself as you recognize that it’s not a noise the Crest would make. At least you know that there's nothing wrong with the ship itself, but what he actually kriff could that be otherwise? You hit the button to close the kid’s pram before you start to follow the noise. It takes you a moment, but eventually, it starts to get a little louder when you begin retracing your steps to Mando’s cot. For some reason, it almost sounds like the pings are picking up speed with every step you take, each noise coming in faster than the last.

The rapid beeping brings you to a stop in front of Mando’s closed bunk, and you hesitate before lifting the door again. The blaring noise seems to get ten times louder by the time you get rid of the barrier to the room. You push yourself onto the cot and immediately spot the source — a small round object laying by the head of it near where the kid had been rifling through the top drawer. The trinket looked to be too flat to have much wiring involved, so you ruled out the possibility of it being a bomb, Plus, why in Mustafar would Mando ever keep something like that where the kid could reach it — he’s far too careful to do something like that. You know he has a weapons locker, if he ever had a need for an explosive, he would keep it there with his blasters.

You quickly snatch it up and examine it, trying to find some kind of a button. The noise is almost ear-splittingly loud now and the small red light coming from it is blinking in rapid succession. When you can’t find a way to turn it off, you start to panic. Mando told you that the kid’s pram is soundproof, but he didn’t tell you how much it could withstand before sound started to leak through. The last thing you need right now is to have the child crying on your hip as you fumble with the ridiculously loud object. The thought to set it on the ground and crush it beneath your boot crosses your mind, but you shove that idea aside when you think about the fact that it – whatever it may be — belongs to Mando.

You, for one, don’t want to damage any of his property, and, for two, don’t want him to think that it was you snooping through his things when he discovers that it’s missing. Your second idea is to find something to smother it with to dull the sound. Your makeshift cot jumps to mind, the blankets you had stacked on top of each other should work perfectly. You quickly scramble out of the bunk and run over to the corner of the hull where you had set up your space. In your rush to gather the various blankets and sheets, you knock the screaming object out of your grasp, swearing as it hits the ground with a loud thud. But after that — nothing. The kriffing thing finally shut up. You laugh with relief as the usual quiet of the Crest returns, and after a minute your ears slowly stop ringing. The silence is almost biting after having that thing going off for the past five minutes, if not for the generator still working its magic on the floor above you, there would be no sound left at all.

Exasperated after your long day and from the rush of that whole ordeal, you lean back against the wall behind you and let yourself slide down to the floor. You sit staring at the durasteel between your legs for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the feeling that comes from finally having a moment to yourself. When you look up again, you come face to face with, well, you. You bite back a shout as you slam yourself further into the wall at your back. You are almost nose to nose with what looks to be a holographic picture of your face and upper body. Your confusion only intensifies when you look at the bottom of the holograph, the end tapering into a point that seems to be coming out of the small device from Mando’s room. You quickly scramble to your feet, standing so you can look at the back and sides of the image, which are — as expected — a perfect still of you. You look maybe a few years younger, but there is no mistaking who it was.

Stopping at the back, you reach your hand out and watch, bewildered, as it passes through the back of your head. The questions start to flood your mind, each one causing you to grow more perplexed as you search for an answer. First off, why the fuck did the Mandalorian have a holograph of you hidden in a drawer in his bunk? Second, why did it have to be so kriffing noisy? And why did it get louder and — flashier? — the closer you came to it? You circled the image one more time before you stopped and everything suddenly clicked. You are frozen in place as millions of emotions flood you at once. The anger that pulses through your veins seems to warm your entire body, overwhelming and completely taking over your confusion. The dominant emotion, however, had to be the betrayal that rushes into you and settles hard in your gut. Sure, you might not have known Mando for very long, but you trusted him enough to think that he wouldn’t cause you any harm, or rather, bring you to it.

The object that lay below you is a bounty puck. Your bounty puck.

You feel the blood drain from your face as it really hits you what this means. You need to get out of here, away from Mando. You can feel the panic setting in and you have to make an effort to keep calm when you realize that’s not going to happen anytime soon. You wouldn’t have a chance on your own on this planet, and since Mando is still out, you wouldn’t dare leave the kid — you would let any bounty hunter turn you in before you ever left the child without a guardian. There’s nowhere to run right now, as soon as Mando gets back, you have no doubt that’s exactly what he will do. He’ll set the course to Nevarro and hand you over for some credits.

It’s smart on his part, you’ll give him that. He lets you aboard his ship and quickly earns your trust, letting you watch his kid and have free roam while he picks up a few more bounties. You made it so fucking easy too — so completely oblivious, even throwing in a quick sexual release for him. How could you be so kriffing stupid? It's not your brightest move, trusting a bounty hunter, but he never gave you any reason to mistrust him. Tears begin to blur your vision and you shake your head in an attempt to will them away, but you only succeed in allowing them to fall. No. You can’t cry right now, there's no time. You need to take action before it’s too late. Mando should be back soon and by the time he gets here, you will have to be able to look and act presentable. If he suspects that you know why you’re really here he will probably lock you in carbonite, and if that happens you’ll have no chance at all. Wiping your tears, you take a deep breath and sit back down, staring into your own unmoving eyes as you start to think up a plan.

****

It takes a few hours, but you eventually decide on what you think is the best course of action to ensure your freedom — and survival. The only way you’re possibly going to get out of this situation is to act like everything is normal until Mando lands on a planet with a spaceport. Even if that means waiting for Nevarro, which you know is probably your best bet. As soon as he turns his back, you’ll run for it and hope he doesn’t notice your absence long enough for you to take a ship off-world. As much as you hate it, you will need to know that Mando is on the Crest. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you left the kid behind without knowing if he is being looked after or not. Your heart clenches at the thought of leaving him behind at all, but you can’t just stay around and allow yourself to be sold off to whoever seemed to have wanted you enough to put a bounty on your head in the first place.

You try to think about who might have done such a thing, but you come up empty-handed. You’ve always been a good citizen, never stolen or gotten into a fight. There's not a single reason anybody should be after you, but that’s almost the scariest part. If Mando succeeds in turning you in, what would happen to you? You shudder as you think about living out the rest of your life in a cell or as a slave, likely being beaten and starved.

A sudden noise sounds through the ship for the second time tonight, thankfully not coming from the puck this time. It sounds like the com in the cockpit has been activated, likely Mando calling to tell you he’s close. You freeze up as you think about having to be around him and be normal. Sure, it scares you that he has you right where he wanted you, an easy target. The sting of betrayal, however, easily surpasses the fear. You think back to less than a week ago when you had been so hurt over the fact that he had been ignoring you, and it almost makes you laugh as you think about how fucking pitiful that was compared to how you feel now. This man has caused you nothing but harm and yet you still have a scrap of hope that he’s not who you think he is, that he really didn’t mean any of it. Even though you have the evidence right in front of you, you want to believe that he is a good person.

You may be naive, but you can’t deny the nagging part of your brain that wants you to confront him. You won’t of course, you can’t risk your life over the pathetic part of you that wishes this is all just a misunderstanding. When the ringing in the cockpit picks up again, you stand and walk over to the ladder, climbing until you reach the top floor. Taking a deep breath, you situate yourself in the pilot’s chair, only hesitating a moment before answering the call. A holovid of Mando’s helmet comes into view and you straighten in your seat, your mouth clamped shut, not trusting yourself not to say something stupid that will give you away. Fortunately, you don't have to wait long before he starts talking.

“I have the fuel,” he says, his voice a bit ragged from hiking through the snow non-stop. A stupid part of you feels a pang of worry at the sound of it, wishing you could provide him water to ease his sore throat. You curse yourself and choose to nod instead of verbally responding, knowing that his vambrace is projecting a clear picture of you in front of him. The tension begins to build up the longer you sit on call with him, and you pray to the make that it will be over soon. How in Mustafar do you expect to face this man in person? “I should be back in less than ten minutes, I need you to open up the ramp.” Again, you choose to nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any longer than that and ends the call. You don’t realize you had been holding in a breath until it forces itself out of your lungs as soon as his helm is out of sight.

You get right to work with what he asked you to do because that’s what you would do if you didn’t know you were a prisoner, definitely not because you wanted to be helpful. You quickly clamber back down to the hull and rush to the ramp. You had to tie knots with rope in six different places to ensure there was no way for it to come open from the outside since the locking mechanism is still busted after the pirates. You undo the first five without a thought — and then you get to the last one and realize something. The bounty puck is still sitting where you left it, out in the open for anybody to see. Panicked, you leave the last knot secure and bolt to your disheveled cot. You scoop it up and slam your palm over the top, hoping that the holograph will go away — it does, thank the maker. Now you just need to put it back in place before Mando gets back. Of course, though, not everything can go your way.

Halfway to Mando’s bunk, you hear your name called from behind you. Your blood turns to ice in your veins and you freeze into place, expecting to feel Mando come up behind you, unable to get yourself to move. You are still stuck on the spot when you hear your name called again, and that seems to snap you out of your trance. It sounds like Mando is on the ship, he must have pulled the ramp down and snapped the last knot. Thankfully, you seem to come to your senses when you realize that he hasn’t caught you yet, and you make a mad dash to his bunk. It feels like your heart is beating in your throat as you climb in and find the drawer that had been left open. You haphazardly toss the puck in, praying it won’t go off again as you slam the drawer shut and scramble back to the edge of the bunk.

Without looking where you’re going, you throw yourself out of the doorway expecting to feel your feet touch the floor of the hull. What you don't expect is to hit what feels like a brick wall blocking your path. Your eyes widen as you immediately realize that the brick wall you ran into is Mando’s chest plate. It seems like a century goes by before you see him step aside to allow you to climb out of the small room. For now, you decide you will keep your composure. You’re not sure if Mando knew what you were doing or not, but if it’s the latter, you intend to keep it that way. Your ears are ringing with apprehension by the time you plant your feet on the ground and look up at Mando.

“I-i was just,” your mouth starts anxiously blabbing before you can stop it. You feel your face turn red as you find yourself at a loss for words. Mando says nothing but tilts his helmet as if urging you to continue. “I was just looking for the kid's ball,” the lie falls off your tongue fairly smoothly. There is no reason for you to be in Mando’s bunk right now, and you need to cover your tracks however you can. He still doesn’t say anything and you shift your feet, unsure of what to do now.

“You know, t-the little metal one he’s always playing with,” clearly continuing to explain yourself was the wrong move because you’re greeted with silence once again. “Right, well I didn’t find it, obviously, so I'm just going to, uh, go back to my cot,” you point your thumb over your shoulder to the rumpled pile of blankets. Nothing, again. “Okay, um, goodnight, Mando,” you’re sweating by the time you turn to go back to your cot. Smooth. Nice going, fucknut.

That was fucking rough, but it could have been worse. You take it as a sign that Mando is likely still oblivious to the fact that you know about the puck. Your shoulders sag in relief when you hear the sound of his bunk door shutting into place. Fuck that was close. You unfurl your blankets and set them back into place like you were getting ready to go to sleep, though you know there will be one of those until you reach Nevarro. Sure, you might not have much of a chance against Mando, but it increases at least a little bit if you’re awake if he decides the middle of the night would be a good time to cuff you and toss you in carbonite. You shiver at the thought. When the blankets are all in place, you lay down on top of them and turn to face the wall. This way, Mando will assume you’re asleep as per usual, and you will be able to hear if he tries to sneak up on you. A few minutes later, you hear Mando come out of his bunk and mumble something about ‘fueling up’ before exiting the Crest once again.

About ten minutes after that, you feel a gust of cold wind as Mando comes back inside. You listen as he makes his way up the ladder and then turns the generator off in favor of the actual heat. It gets warmer almost immediately, and it makes it a little easier to relax. Before you know it, you feel the Crest being suspended into the air and then a slight dip in temperature, letting you know that you’re finally back in hyperspace. You allow yourself to cry as you get settled in.

****

When Mando finally comes back down from the cockpit the sound of him jumping off the last rung startles you. You hadn’t realized you had almost fallen asleep, but you’re glad the sound snapped you out of it before it was too late. When he starts walking, his footsteps sound like they're coming your way, and you turn around to face him. His pace falters when you move, clearly not expecting it — which is exactly what you had hoped for. He stops a few feet from where you lay, and you look up at him, your heart racing. You sit up slowly and glance at his hands to make sure they’re empty. When you look back up at his helmet, you notice that his body language seems different.

Maybe this is it, he knows that you know, and he’s going to lock you away. You probably left something out of place in the bunk and gave yourself away, that’s the end of that. You’ll wake up in a cell, alone for the rest of your life. You try to quell the panic that swells in your chest and remain calm. Maybe he doesn’t really know and he just came to tell you something insignificant. Fuck, he wouldn’t do that. You’re screwed. You want to trust him so badly, but you know you can’t. You need to hold your ground whatever happens.

He takes another step toward you and you lean back a bit, subconsciously trying to stay as far away from him as possible — though half of you still wants to fling yourself into his arms. You wait for him to say something, averting your gaze as you fiddle with a frayed edge on one of your blankets, but he never does. Assuming he’s waiting for eye contact, you look back up, but he only looks at you for a few seconds before nodding once and turning around. You watch in stunned silence until he disappears back into his bunk.

****

The three days it took to get to Nevarro went by surprisingly fast. You had managed somehow to avoid Mando pretty much the entire time, though that might have something to do with the fact that he stayed locked in his bunk for most of the trip. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was trying to avoid you just as much as you were trying to avoid him, but that doesn’t make any sense when you think about it. If anything, he should be trying to keep a better eye on you, with you being his bounty and all. You honestly have no idea why you’re still roaming the ship. If it were you, you would have locked the bounty up at the first opportunity you got. It seems like it would be so much easier to know that the target is secured. Whatever, you aren’t tied up or frozen in carbonite, so nobody’s going to hear you complain.

At least this way you get to play with the kid. You haven’t let him out of your sight since he had gotten into Mando’s bunk and revealed the puck. This way, you get to spend as much time as you can with him before you have to inevitably say goodbye — and you can be sure that he won’t dig up the puck again. You figure if Mando figured out that you knew about it, he would have you in cuffs before you could blink. So far though, you haven’t given him a good reason, or opportunity for that matter, to do so. You have been pretty good about that, at the very least. You had kept up your plan of not sleeping surprisingly well. You go to your cot every night like you would normally, but instead of resting your eyes, you would think of something to keep your brain busy.

Most of the time you would use the time to continue plotting your escape. The safest way to do things, little improvements, how you would get off-world, where you would go when you did, things like that. Sometimes, when you got bored of that, you would think about a memory from your childhood or make up a story in your head. Once you even let yourself indulge in imagining a fantasy where Mando had you locked in cuffs under different circumstances.

That was when you really realized how exhausted you were. How could you still be attracted to the man who is planning on turning you in? Ignorantly, that's how. You keep scolding yourself for the way your stomach flutters every time you see him but it never seems to help. It's almost like your heart hasn’t caught up with the situation at hand. You keep unintentionally holding on to the scrap of hope that this is all just some misunderstanding. Unfortunately, the rational part of you knows that it’s not. You want to hate that part but you listen to it nonetheless.

You’re lying on your cot when you feel the Crest touch down on Nevarro. Upon feeling the jolt, you scramble to your feet and begin checking your belongings. You had collected a good amount of stuff since boarding the Crest, but you only had room for a few articles of clothing and a couple of ration packs. You quickly stuff the clothes into your bag and run to the kitchenette to grab a few packs, determined to get it all done before Mando comes back down from the cockpit. You don’t look at what you're grabbing as you put them into your sack, only making sure that you leave enough for it not to look suspicious if Mando decides to check the stash before leaving.

You’re back on your cot, thank the maker, by the time he comes back down to the hull. Your heart is pounding and you can barely hear through the rush in your ears, but you manage to look calm — as calm as you can anyway. It seems good enough for Mando because he ignores you, as usual, and goes to his cot to retrieve the kid. Once he is out of sight, you look at the ramp, wondering if you should chance it now. If you opened it, it would be loud enough to alert Mando and there is no way he won’t catch you if he realizes what you’re doing so soon. You don’t get much of a chance to consider it anyway because he’s back out in the hull before you can properly plan an out.

“I’m going to go meet with Karga.” You nod at him, watching as he hands the kit a piece of dried Bantha meat. “I need you to stay on the ship while I’m gone, there will be a crew coming to retrieve the bounties from the carbonite chambers, but nobody else should bother you.” You nod again, slightly confused by the fact that he’s practically giving you a warning. “I need to hear you say it, it’s important that you understand that you have to stay here.”

“Okay, Mando, I’ll stay on the ship.” You hope to the maker that your voice sounds convincing enough for him to leave it alone. It does. Mando nods before pressing a button on his vambrace to open the ramp. He doesn’t spare you a last glance as he walks down the gangway and closes it behind him. The breath of relief you let out when you’re left alone is almost loud enough to make you jump. You only wait until you can be sure Mando is far enough away from the ship to not be able to hear you open the ramp before you slip away.

**** Thank you for reading!!

35 notes · View notes

casuallymysticalcheesecake · 6 months

Text

I have tlt brainrot and i'm about to make it everyone's problem :)

pardon any bad grammar, english is my first language.

So we're all aware of Gideon's immaculate conception right??? And the plot by Augustine, Mercy, and Wake to get jod's ~genetic material~ was very clearly planned for 500 years, and we also know that Mercy and Augustine were not proud of what they did. The phrase that's been stuck in my head and the issue of my brainrot is The Cum Heist.

Anyways, my point is; I think it's hilarious (and honestly wouldn't totally put this past tazmuir to even think about this) to think that they used a cum rag?

We know that they don't fully explain how they got the cum in the heist, only saying that jod would've been suspicious if they went a second round and that he's very careful with bleeding, and i guess with his squirt too?

I think it would be very funny and pretty on brand for Gideon. Gideon spent her whole life being told she was worthless, abused, and more and wished that she could join the cohort and become someone special to prove that she's not worthless. She tries to find her mother's skeleton in the fields and wishes that she knew her mother. She doesn't even get to meet her mother because they're both dead and possessing someone's body(Harrow and Cytherea) and Gideon hears how her own mother called her a bomb and was fully planning on killing her as soon as she was born. And with Gideon feeling like a nobody, I think it would be so incredibly hilarious to think that she came from a cum rag and it makes sense in my mind???. like,,, you sploooge into a rag and throw it away when it gets too hard. and Gideon was simply thrown away. She ~came~ from nothing(?) in a way. And when you bring the permeability of souls into this, I wonder what Cristabel was thinking when Cum Heist was simply thought of??? Because Mercy fluctuates a lot in HTN by loving and worshiping John and downright hating him the entire book.

In general, Cum Heist is such an interesting way to come up with how lesbian jesus was created and it just feels so weirdly on brand for Gideon's character? I also can't think of any book that is so serious and serious at the same time. And tbh, tazmir's mind scares the living shit out of me. how can she create all of this and have so much foreshadowing that you have to fucking be a master in literature and also have a cum heist be canon in your book? it's truly the duality of man.

I need someone to write a crack fic about this please

#tlt #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth

23 notes · View notes

9leaguesofmirrors · 6 months

Text

Things Nobody Knows About Lisgoe (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

So, fun fact, this fic is a two-parter! This one centers around Lisgoe and the second part, you guessed it, centers around Ross - very simple, I know, but that's not always a bad thing

Things nobody knows about Lisgoe:

He's actually incredibly knowledgable. People look at him and expect nothing more than a violent whackjob, but Lisgoe does have his moments of cleverness. Though he isn't good with rationality and certainly not reasoning, he has extensive knowledge on all things dark

Ross has lost count of the number of times he'd reference something, only to then have to go into an in-depth explanation of a cult, serial killer, or torture method in order for him to understand whatever joke was just made

Although he often ended up disgusted by the mini seminar, Ross had to admit that there was something very attractive about Lisgoe's confident delivery and shocking level of intellect

He has a high spice tolerance. This irritates Ross slightly, because he can barely handle 4.5 chilli fries without needing a considerable gulp of water. Meanwhile, Lisgoe once mistook hot sauce for ketchup and didn't realise until halfway through his meal, then took a swig of it and asked "is this a different brand?"

That man can take on any amount of chili powder without breaking a sweat, and it's a trait that Ross, though he'd never admit it, is wildly jealous of

I mean, what's more embarrassing than having to hide the fact that your insides are slowly dying while your partner complains that the curry you're having "isn't even that fucking spicy"

He's practically nocturnal. Is it because of his job? Is it just him? Ross doesn't know, all he knows is that Lisgoe seems to prefer being awake until the early hours of the morning

This should've been a bit of an issue due to Ross liking to be up no later than 6am everyday, but it means that he gets to wake up to the sight of Lisgoe asleep. In a rare state of complete peace and even gentleness, a sight that nobody in the whole of Royston Vasey has ever gotten close to

And Ross can't help but feel smugly satisfied with that

He mutters to himself a lot. If he's doing something in the room next to Ross, he'll be able to hear him going over things under his breath. Whenever he brings it up, it's denied, but it won't be long until it starts up again. Usually it's a string of curses and insults; at first, Ross assumed it was aimed at the situation or whatever object had caused the irritance

And it does start that way, but then it changes - that's when Ross realised something else about Lisgoe:

He's incredibly hard on himself. That's not to say he isn't confident and can't be an arrogant bastard when he wants to be, but Ross notices that Lisgoe isn't forgiving towards himself when he fails or things go wrong. He's angry, and his muttered swearing and insults quickly aim themselves directly into his own chest. Ross has lost count of the number of times phrases like "you stupid fuck" and "god, what a twat" have escape Lisgoe's mouth in sharp whispers

He wasn't sure when, but one day something clicked and he realised something:

Lisgoe doesn't think that highly of himself. That's not to say he's insecure, Joseph Nigel Lisgoe is not an insecure man at all. No, what Ross realised is that Lisgoe doesn't think he's worthy of a lot of things

Truly, Ross respects Lisgoe's self-awareness - he doesn't pretend to be a perfect, righteous person. He knows he was a bastard and wears it like a badge on his chest

But there was something in the way he replied to compliments with an eyeroll or "fuck off", as if it were a big joke, and the way he refused to accept help even when he truly needed it, that made Ross realise that Lisgoe doesn't hate being treated with a shred of decency - he doesn't think he deserves it

Ross has found out a lot about Lisgoe; the fact that he shows his love through touch rather than words, that he's obsessed with true crime and the macabre. He also knows that Lisgoe is fiercly protective over those he cares about, and nothing will pull him away from the few people he considers important

Everyone knows who Lisgoe is. They see Lisgoe in the street, open their doors to Lisgoe, the whole of Royston Vasey knows Lisgoe

But, little by little, Ross is quite happy that he got to know Joseph. Lisgoe stays outside as Joseph enters. Joseph is the one pressing a kiss to the corner of Ross' mouth and Joseph is the one he bickers with. Joseph lies beside him, their conversations quiet and isolated from the world. It's Lisgoe that Ross met, and it's Joseph he cares about

And what people don't know about Joseph is that he's the one thing Ross truly can't imagine life without

#league of gentlemen #the league of gentlemen #reece shearsmith #joseph lisgoe #ross gaines #gainsgoe #gainesgoe

25 notes · View notes

thewidowsghost · 1 year

Text

Happy Holidays! - Chapter 14

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Jack steps around the corner, the sword still held level with the Avenger’s throat. “Stay exactly where you are,” the man says.

“Jack, no!” Kate runs down the hall to stop her soon-to-be stepfather, (Y/n) just behind the archer.

“What the hell is going on?” Eleanor steps around another corner from the kitchen. Then she stops. “And why is there an Avenger in my dining room?”

“Hi,” Clint says, meeting Jack’s gaze, before his eyes flick back down to the sword.

Kate shifts slightly, her gaze flying from Clint to (Y/n) to her own mother.

“Oh, my god,” Jack says, lowering the sword. “You’re . . . you’re Archer.”

“Hawkeye,” Kate corrects.

“Clint,” Clint interjects, glancing over at the younger archer.

“It’s the branding issue, I’m telling you,” Kate says and (Y/n)’s lips twitch.

“Yeah, sure,” Clint replies.

Jack chuckles, glancing back at his fiance.

. . .

Kate, Clint, and (Y/n) are sitting across from Jack and Eleanor.

Kate’s knee bounces nervously and (Y/n) rests a hand gently on her thigh - she couldn’t reach Kate’s knee due to how far away the chairs were.

“Hawkeye, (Y/n), and I are working on a case, and we needed to use the bathroom,” Kate tells her mother. “He did. So, we were by the house, we dropped in. No big deal.”

“Working on a case together?” Eleanor asks.

“How terrific,” Jack says at the same time.

“They’re my partners,” Kate replies. Though I hope my partnership with (Y/n) is different than work partners.

“We’re not partners,” Clint replies.

“Brutal,” (Y/n) mutters and Jack meets her gaze, looking amused.

“Well, we’re friends-slash-partners,” Kate says.

“I wouldn’t really describe us as friends,” Clint corrects.

Kate’s mother’s phone chimes on the table and she picks it up.

“Someone used my laptop to sign onto my work account ten minutes ago,” Eleanor says, looking up and meeting her daughter’s gaze. “Any thoughts, Kate?”

“Hawkeye?” Kate says, looking over at the archer. “Haha. You’ll never get anything outta him. See, CB-One has trouble opening up.”

“Nobody calls me CB-One,” Clint replies.

“I should start calling you that now,” (Y/n) jokes, leaning forward slightly in her seat to meet her uncle’s unamused gaze.

“I’m just tryin’ it out for a second,” Kate says, meeting the Avenger’s gaze. “Probably some early childhood thing. He thinks he doesn’t tell me much, but he ends up telling me all of it.”

“I tell her nothing,” Clint replies.

(Y/n) had turned fully in her seat to watch the archers bicker.

“I think it’s ‘cause I’m generally pretty chill. I’m not like ‘Oh, my God, Hawkeye!’” Kate goes on.

Jack’s gaze falls onto (Y/n), who was watching Kate, her expression soft with affection for the young Bishop.

Clint shakes his head. “Definitely not chill.”

Jack and Eleanor look between the two archers.

“By the way, thank you . . . for saving the world,” Jack says, looking at Clint.

Clint smiles and Kate shifts uncomfortably, reaching over - not trying to be inconspicuous at all - and taking (Y/n)’s hand.

“Don’t mention it,” Clint replies.

“I would like my daughter to start telling the truth,” Eleanor says as (Y/n) fixes herself in the seat.

Kate begins to nervously fiddle with (Y/n)’s fingers.

“I logged into your account because I needed information on an actual case with actual people who are in actual danger,” Kate says.

“So, Kate is helping you with an Avengers-level threat?” Eleanor asks Clint.

(Y/n) is the one who replies, and Kate wonders how her girlfriend(?) could remain so calm and collected. “It’s not an Avengers-level threat. It just happens that we ran into an Avenger in the middle of the street.”

“My niece is correct,” Clint says.

Eleanor’s eyebrow raises, “But you are working together?”

Clint swallows thickly and Kate turns to look at the archer.

“Yes,” Clint replies. “Sounds weird, ‘cause it is.”

Eleanor looks at Clint, and then looks over at his fiance. “Okay,” Eleanor says, looking as though she didn’t believe what the Avenger was saying. “Well, I guess I’m just gonna have to trust everyone at this table to do what’s right.”

Clint catches sight of Jack’s liberated Ronin sword and he hums in agreement.

“Cool. It was great bumpin’ into you guys,” Kate says, she, Clint, and (Y/n) stand up.

“Please stay,” Eleanor says, looking between Kate and (Y/n), who sit back down.

“We should get . . .” Kate tries.

“Can I see you out?” Eleanor looks at Clint.

“I’ll get my coat,” Clint says, he and Eleanor walking to the door.

Jack, (Y/n), and Kate sit at the table. Jack smiles at his future step-daughter as he takes a sip of coffee.

Kate gets up from the table, and (Y/n) follows, both girls calling their dogs to them.

. . .

Kate shifts uncomfortably on the couch as she hears her mother talking to Jack.

“Kate has always been confident, never had to worry about her on that front,” Eleanor says.

Lucky the Pizza Dog is lying on the couch above Kate’s head while (Y/n) is sitting on the floor, Bolt’s head in her lap.

Looking over, Kate meets her mother’s gaze; Lucky the Pizza Dog lifts his head.

“You’re getting that pre-headache look, darling. Let me get you some tea,” Jack says, placing a gentle hand on his fiance’s shoulder. “Would you like something, Kate? (Y/n)?”

(Y/n) smiles slightly and politely refuses, but Jack studies her for a moment.

“You look like you could use a coffee,” Jack says.

“I’ll come help,” (Y/n) gets to her feet easily. “Two creams and a sugar?” (Y/n) looks down at Kate.

Kate nods, smiling slightly.

Once (Y/n) and Jack leave for the kitchen, Kate sits up. “Mom, I really need to talk to you about Jack.” Kate says.

“Hey, could we . . . Um . . . Could we change the subject,” Eleanor says, shifting uncomfortably. “You need to give him a break. Come on. I . . . I need your help with a few decisions on the Bishop holiday party.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t think I’m in the mood,” Kate replies.

Bolt lifts his head, before rising to his paws and resting his head on Kate’s knee.

“Come on, Kate,” Eleanor says. “You’re great at this sort of thing. The party’s non-denominational, encourages company camaraderie with a festive spirit.”

“Sounds like a blast already,” Kate replies through a clenched jaw.

“Did someone say parties?” Jack asks, walking back into the room holding his fiance’s tea.

(Y/n) follows, handing Kate a mug of coffee before sitting down beside Kate.

Kate smiles over at (Y/n) before she takes a sip of the coffee.

“So,” Eleanor says, taking the tea from her fiance, “Clint said that you’re his niece.”

(Y/n) looks up from her coffee.

“Not by blood,” (Y/n) replies. “He and my mom were best friends.”

Eleanor meets (Y/n)’s emerald green gaze. “You’re Natasha’s daughter,” Eleanor says finally and (Y/n) nods, taking another sip of coffee. “I’m sorry for -”

(Y/n) shakes her head. “It’s fine,” is her reply and Kate could tell how uncomfortable her friend was. Bolt removes his head from Kate’s knee to hop up onto the couch, nudging (Y/n)’s cheek with his nose.

(Y/n)’s expression softens, and she scratches affectionately behind the dog’s ears.

“Well, I hope there’ll be plenty of dancing at this party,” Jack says.

“Well, my mother doesn't dance,” Kate replies.

“Really?” Jack asks, his eyes twinkling. “I beg to differ. Darling?”

Kate and (Y/n) watch, rather awkwardly, as Jack serenades Eleanor with ‘Chestnuts Roasting Over an Open Fire’ and at the end, Jack dips Eleanor.

After a moment, both Jack and Eleanor return to their seats across from Kate and (Y/n).

“Wow!” Eleanor says. “A superhero house call and a serenade, all in one day.”

“Well, you know what they say . . . life is short. You never know what you’re gonna get,” Jack says and the other three women laugh. “What? What’d I say? Did I say something wrong or . . .”

“Jack, everytime you use one of those aphorisms, you use it wrong,” Kate says, smiling slightly.

“What? No. That can’t be right, is it?” Jack looks over at his fiance. “Darling. Please.”

Eleanor lets out a snort of laughter, “The other day, you said, ‘Absence makes the heart grow older.’”

“Because that’s what it does,” Jack replies.

Eleanor laughs again. “Yeah. Honey. Come here,” she says.

“No. Really?” Jack asks, leaning over so his fiance could kiss him.

“You’re makin’ my heart grow older,” Eleanor says.

“I guess getting laughed at by family,” Jack says, “is better than being alone for the holidays, right?”

(Y/n)’s smile slides off her face and she turns to Bolt, letting her fingers run through his fur.

“What’s better than being with family?” Eleanor asks. “I’m so glad you’re both here.”

Kate glances over and (Y/n), sensing her dropping mood. Kate blinks, feeling guilty. She could be home with her mom right now, but she and Clint are stuck taking care of my mess.

“You know, we should play a board game,” Jack offers.

“That’s a cute idea,” Eleanor replies.

“I’ll leave y’all to it,” (Y/n) says, rising to her feet and smiling slightly. “You want me to take Lucky,” she looks down at Kate.

“If you’d like,” is Kate’s reply, and (Y/n) can see the guilt gleaming in the archer’s eyes.

“Come Lucky,” (Y/n) says, picking up the dog’s leash and hooking Lucky to it before snapping on Bolt’s leash. “It’s was great to see y’all again.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Kate offer, standing up.

When the two young women are out of earshot, Jack turns to his fiance. “I like her,” he says and Eleanor meets his gaze. “I think she’s good for Kate.”

. . .

(Y/n) enters the ‘safe-house’ leading Lucky and Bolt inside.

“Hi, Uncle Clint,” she greets him.

“I thought you were with Kate,” Clint says, as (Y/n) unclips the dog’s leashes.

“She’s spending time with her family,” (Y/n) replies and Clint can see the sadness reflected in her eyes. “I thought I’d come over and we could hang out.”

Clint nods, making his way to the freezer and grabbing a few frozen smoothies and wrapping them around his arms and knees.

. . .

The two settle down in the living room, Lucky and Bolt curled up together in a chair, but then the buzzer rings.

(Y/n) goes to get up, but Clint had beat her to it, walking over.

“It’s me. I come bearing pizza and holiday cheer. Let me in,” Kate’s voice comes from the tiny speaker, and Clint lets the young archer inside.

But the time Kate had made her way to the apartment, Clint had settled back down in his chair, his smoothies still taped to him.

“All right, this is the classic Hawkeye costume we’ve been waitin’ for,” Kate says and (Y/n) laughs.

“What is all this?” Clint asks.

“This,” Kate sets down all of her grocery bags beside (Y/n) on the couch, “is me saving the holidays.”

“Is that right?” Clint asks.

“I’ll get you guys home in time for the big day,” Kate says, rounding the couch and (Y/n)’s stomach erupts into butterflies when she sees the Santa hat on Kate’s head. “Figured in the meantime, we could celebrate,” Kate says, removing her jacket and plopping down between (Y/n) and her grocery bags. “It’s movie marathon night, right?” Kate asks. “Check this out. I got movies.”

Clint genuinely smiles at the young archer. “That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks. But yeah, can we put a pause on that and talk about Sword Boy for a minute?” Kate looks up from her stack of movies. “You got good instincts, kid,” Clint says.

“What do you mean?” Kate asks.

“So, I did a little digging and it turns out, Sloan’s a shell company that loungers money for the Tracksuits. And Jack Duquesne is the CEO.”

“You sure?” Kate asks, her eye wide.

“Mhmmm,” Clint replies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Okay, well, we’re just gonna have to come up with a plan to take down my mom’s fiance’s organized crime ring while simultaneously having a heartwarming holiday celebration.”

Kate reaches into her shopping bag and pulls out three Christmas sweaters. She tosses Clint his, which has a ginger cat sewn into it. Then, Kate hands (Y/n) hers, which has a few white german shepherds on it, and finally, her own, with golden retrievers sown into the fabric.

“Got anymore of that slushy stuff?” Kate asks Clint, getting to her feet and pulling a blender out from under a counter.

“In the freezer,” the Avenger replies.

Clint smiles slightly as (Y/n) steals Kate’s golden retriever sweater, pulling it on.

. . .

“Okay, cops,” Kate says, holding a marker and standing in front of a photo. “We need to get the cops off my back. TSM, we need to get them to leave us alone.” She makes ‘x’s’ over the words she’d written. “And we need to figure out why and how Jack is connected to it all.”

“Yeah, right,” Clint replies, looking up from where he was feeding Lucky a few pieces of sausage.

“This is the part where you finish my sentence with a plan,” Kate says and (Y/n) laughs.

“Planning’s not really my thing,” Clint replies. “Are you sure that’s dry erase?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Kate lifts her arm and runs it across the glass. The marker doesn’t move or erase.

Kate looks exasperated and (Y/n) laughs again, clutching her stomach.

. . .

“How do we get more trick arrows?” Kate asks as the three are watching a movie.

“Well, there are no more trick arrows,” Clint replies.

“Like, in the world,” Kate questions.

“Basically,” Clint answers. “I have a few more trick arrowheads. But you can’t just put ‘em on any shaft.”

“So we really need to get these back.”

. . .

“What’re you doing?” Clint asks as he flips through the selection of movies.

“See?” Kate says, she and (Y/n) decorating the small Christmas tree. “Tree covers the parts that won’t come off.”

“Well, now you’re problem solving,” Clint says and (Y/n)’s eyes gleam with amusement.

. . .

“Have you ever heard of boomerang arrows?” Kate asks.

“What?” Clint turns to look at the young archer. “Why would I ever want to use a boomerang arrow?”

“Because they come back,” Kate says, and (Y/n)’s attention is pulled from the movie.

“Exactly,” Clint says.

“Yeah, well, if all trick arrows were boomerangs, then we’d have them all,” Kate says, seeming to come up with viable reasoning for her previous question.

“Coming back at us,” Clint says.

“We’d have to dodge a little,” Kate says meekly and (Y/n) giggles, burying her face in Kate’s shoulder.

. . .

“So, best shot you ever took?” Kate asks, (Y/n)’s head resting sleepily on her shoulder.

“Uh, the one I didn’t take,” Clint replies, sitting down and sipping on his smoothie.

“What does that mean?” Kate asks.

“Uh, it means . . .” Clint begins. “Never mind, shouldn’t have said it.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t do that,” Kate argues.

“Never mind, it’s nothin’,” Clint replies.

“What? Come on, consider it my Christmas present,” Kate pushes.

“No, it’s not the right time,” Clint says.

“Yes,” Kate insists.

“Come on, Uncle Clint,” (Y/n) replies sleepily.

“It’s . . . about the time I met someone,” Clint obliges. “I was sent to take her out.” (Y/n) shakes the sleep from her eyes, sitting up to hear the story. “And when I got there, when it was time . . . Um . . . I couldn’t do it. I just had this feeling that she needed out. Turns out, I was right.”

“You mean Natasha,” Kate guesses.

Clint nods. “She’s the best there is,” Clint says. “Retired now.”

“Mom’s never told me that story before,” (Y/n) says, straightening, though leaving her weight on Kate, not that the young archer minded.

“She didn’t think you were old enough to know,” Clint tells his niece. He straightens in his seat and turns to look at the television that was playing It’s a Wonderful Life.

“You lost your family in the Blip?” Kate asks the Avenger.

Clint nods, “Yeah. Like half the world.”

“God, that must have been devastating,” Kate murmurs.

“Yeah, there are no words,” Clint replies.

“Is that where you met the Ronin?” (Y/n) asks her uncle. When he doesn’t respond, (Y/n) sighs softly, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Everybody dealt with the Blip in their own way,” Clint replies, not meeting his niece’s gaze. “I continued doing what I was trained to do.”

“Protect people,” Kate says, meeting the Avenger’s gaze.

“Hurting people. Investigating first, but in the end, my job has always been to hurt people,” Clint corrects.

“You were a hero,” Kate says.

“A weapon,” Clint corrects one more. “I was aimed by the right people at the right person, so . . .”

“Look, you made mistakes, but those are behind you,” Kate tells the archer.

“No, it’s tied to me,” Clint replies. “Tied to my family,” he glances at (Y/n), who’s expression had softened. “That’s why I’m here. And I can’t go home ‘till I fix it. I really appreciate what you did tonight,” Clint tells Kate. “It means a lot.”

“You know, you two should get some rest,” Clint tells the two. “You got a big day tomorrow.”

(Y/n) obliges, holding out a hand to Kate, who takes it. “Come, Lucky, Bolt,” (Y/n) calls to the dogs, and they follow the young women into the bedroom.

(Y/n) grabs a change of clothes and moves into the bathroom to change.

When she comes out, (Y/n) stares at the mistletoe hanging from the door frame.

“Kate Bishop,” (Y/n) says, meeting the young archer’s face - she was sitting on the edge of the bed. “You did not.”

Kate shrugs, trying to look inconspicuous, but it doesn’t work, and (Y/n) laughs, walking over and pulling Kate to her feet.

Kate’s eyes drop down to (Y/n)’s lips before they snap up to (Y/n)’s emerald green gaze.

“My eyes are up here, Bishop,” (Y/n) says, resting her arms on Kate’s shoulder and linking her fingers.

Kate blushes, and keeps her eyes fixed on (Y/n)’s.

(Y/n)’s gaze drops down to Kate’s lips.

“Hey, Romanoff,” Kate says, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “My eyes are up here.”

Both Kate and (Y/n) lean forward and (Y/n)’s phone rings.

(Y/n) groans softly, her head tipping forward to rest against Kate’s chest.

(Y/n)’s phone rings again.

“I think you should get that,” Kate says.

“I don’t wanna,” (Y/n) complains, moving her arms down to wrap around Kate’s waist and pull in in for a closer hug.

Leaning over, Kate can see the caller ID. “It’s your mom,” Kate says.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” (Y/n) pulls away from Kate, grabbing her phone, and jumping up onto the bed and accepting the FaceTime.

“You took a long time to answer,” Natasha Romanoff says, looking at her daughter suspiciously.

“I was in the bathroom,” (Y/n) says, though it wasn’t a lie, she had been in the bathroom. She definitely wasn’t about to tell her mother that she was about to kiss her uncle’s protege.

(Y/n) sees her mother visibly relax through the phone and she glances over as Kate plops down onto the bed.

“How are you?” (Y/n) asks her mother.

“Missing you,” Natasha replies, and (Y/n)’s expression softens.

“I miss you too,” (Y/n) says.

Bolt jumps up onto the bed, sniffing at the phone excitedly at the sound of Natasha’s voice.

“Hi, boy,” Natasha says, her eyes softening at the sight of the dog. “I hope you’ve been good.”

“You know he has,” (Y/n) replies.

A weight hits (Y/n)’s shoulder, and she looks over, her eyes softening with affection. Natasha smiles slightly, watching her daughter’s interaction with the asleep archer.

“You like her,” Natasha says and (Y/n) directs her attention back to the FaceTime. When (Y/n) doesn’t automatically reply, Natasha says, “I’m not upset. She seems like a sweet girl.”

(Y/n)’s eyes brighten. “She really is. She knew Clint and I were upset that we couldn’t be home for movie night, so she bought some movies and we decorated the safe house. And we had pizza and we played games.”

(Y/n) pauses when she realizes she’s rambling, her cheeks darkening. Natasha smiles at her daughter through the phone.

“You better be inviting her for Christmas,” Natasha says. “I’d like to meet this Kate Bishop in person.”

“I’ll ask,” (Y/n) promises. “I’m not sure if she’s spending Christmas with her mom and step-dad or not.”

“You keep me updated on your relationship status,” Nataha says and (Y/n) laughs.

“I will, Mom,” (Y/n) replies.

“I’m going to let you go, you probably have a big day of ass-kicking tomorrow,” Natasha says.

“Well, Kate and I are going on a fun journey to collect Trick Arrows, so,” (Y/n) replies, “yes, ass-kicking.”

“Hey, language,” Natasha says, her eyes gleaming.

“Hey, you just said the same thing,” (Y/n) replies.

“But I’m your mother, I say what I like,” Natasha says, and (Y/n) raises an eyebrow.

“Okay,” (Y/n) chuckles. “I love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll see you soon,” Natasha replies.

(Y/n) hangs up the phone, her head tilting over to rest against Kate’s. “What’ve you done to me, Kate Bishop?” she asks, lying Kate down slowly so as not to wake her.

Kate lets out an unconscious murmur, scooching over to wrap her arms around (Y/n)’s waist.

Word Count: 3646 words

Happy Holidays Taglist:

@imapotatao

@starscouffaine

@crazydefendortrash

@harleyswanda

@neverylee

@gay-vet-student

@sofi898

@simsrecs

@Dxnnx04

@xxxtwilightaxelxxx

@suestormswife

@randomhoex

@spider-thot0115

@distinguishedtacostrawberry

@hehehehannahthings

@wildwarcat

@mystic7-7

@lostremind

#Kate Bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #Kate bishop x fem reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter reader #natasha romanoff x reader

102 notes · View notes