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jedi-hawkins · 6 days

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Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder.

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you.

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?"

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14."

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood."

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?"

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?"

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon."

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?"

"Six weeks."

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then."

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running.

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else.

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?"

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission."

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand."

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades.

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard.

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice.

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him."

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?"

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command."

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard.

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. “The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be."

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow."

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile."

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-"

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?"

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds.

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?"

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such."

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously.

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?"

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else."

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard.

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby.

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?"

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up.

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?”

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind.

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born.

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad.

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him.

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.”

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth.

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.”

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly.

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.”

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies.

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds.

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.”

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes.

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.”

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say.

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.”

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.”

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance.

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks.

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.”

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.”

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.”

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it.

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside.

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team.

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes.

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike.

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you.

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck.

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head.

“Are you karking crazy?!”

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.”

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.”

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.”

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?”

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink.

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?”

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle..

He scoffs.

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.”

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?”

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.”

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly.

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye.

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.”

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed.

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply.

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.”

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face.

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing.

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up.

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.”

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.”

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.”

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly.

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.”

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range.

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?”

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you.

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions.

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters.

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him.

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.”��

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay.

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out.

You take it back from him and move to stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground.

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.”

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.”

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position.

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range.

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.”

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.”

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit.

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply.

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more.

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body.

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets.

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time.

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.”

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense.

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile.

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps.

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin.

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water.

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter.

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.”

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.”

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind.

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.”

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks.

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item.

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile.

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up.

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it.

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition.

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it.

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest.

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable.

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek.

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.”

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk.

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.”

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution.

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.”

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree.

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target.

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target.

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said.

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present.

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you.

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic.

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you.

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.”

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.”

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.”

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees.

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing.

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.”

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.”

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in.

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.”

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go.

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment.

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp.

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead.

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.”

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard.

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers.

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend.

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane.

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in.

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much.

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world.

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him.

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself.

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

#cloneflowerficevent #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb #bad batch #the bad batch #ct 9904 #crosshair bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair tbb #forever lilies #lilies

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byulsgrease · 3 years

Text

duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

#using their real predebut photos feels like a disservice lmaoo #girl crush is my fave cf tho :D #requested #💥 anon #mamamoo imagines #gg fic #mamamoo x reader #hwasa x reader #mamamoo fanfic #kpop fic #girl group fic #moonbyul imagines #hwasa imagines #wheein imagines #mamamoo scenarios #soulmate au

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dreamifics · 3 years

Text

Immature

Oneshot

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Talk of sexual activities and stuff but no smut

Y/N joined the Avengers shortly after the big fight between Tony and Steve. Stark recruited her due to Fury's orders, she used to be under control of Hydra, like Barnes.. All of the Avengers had no problem with her, only one..

''Stupid Rogers!" Y/N shriek as she stares into her bathroom mirror..

Once again, Rogers benched her, because and she quote

'She used to be just like them!'

They were supposed to raid a Hydra facility, and something snapped at Steve's brain when he saw that Y/N was going too.

Y/N sighs, she just gripped the porcelain sink and steadied herself, she was ready to kill Steve, she was so angry.. Y/N just washed her face with the cold water from the faucet, hoping that it'll help ease the anger in her blood.

She exits the bathroom and was greeted by Bucky, he was sitting in her bed.

"Hello Tinman.." Y/N gave Bucky a smile.

"I want to apologize for--"

"You don't need to apologize in behalf of Steve.. I'm cool.."

"Are you really?"

"Yepp!No word of Captain Ass can get to me.."

Bucky crossed his arms, he knew she was lying.. Y/N just awkwardly smiled at him, she walks to her bed and dived in her bed..

"You can leave now, your boyfriend's might be missing you now.."

And in queue Sam and Steve popped up in her door, Steve was furious.. His eyes were fixed to Bucky, while Sam was just smiling slyly..

"Speak of the devils.." Y/N mutters as she gave Steve a deadly glare.

Bucky stood up from her bed and gave the two men a small nod.. Steve was still looking at Bucky but it soon averted to Y/N, she just raised her eyebrow at him.

"Have a fun mission, you two.."

"Will do, Y/N" Sam answered and gave Y/N a smile which she gladly gave back.

"Oh, Bucky!Pouvez-vous s'il vous plaît pousser le capitaine hors de l'avion pour moi?" Y/N spoke in french knowing that Bucky will understand.

Can you please push Captain out of the plane for me?

Bucky just laughs and shakes his head as Sam grabs him and drag him out of Y/N's sight. However, someone still hasn't left and it made her anger bubbled up even more.

"I swear to God if you don't leave, I'll squeeze your kneecaps.." Y/N said jokingly? She was not sure, she might just do that if Steve won't stop his douche ways..

"Cut it out, Y/N.." Steve ordered..

Y/N rolled her eyes, she sashay her way to Steve and move her face closer to his.

"You're not my Captain, you don't get to order me around.."

Y/N was supposed to walk away but was stopped by Rogers hand in her arms.. However, his hands didn't hurt her, his touch was soft and gentle.. Typical Steve..

Always a gentleman..

"I'm the Captain, you'll obliged to me.."

Y/N scoffs as she takes her arm away from him, she looked him deeply in his and saw that there were anger filling his blue eyes.. This guy really hates her..

"And what if I don't?What would you do?Fire me?Spank me?" She sassed but Steve eyes soften and his eyes wander to her body..

Y/N brows furrowed, what was Steve doing? He just stared at her and his cheeks suddenly got flushed.. Di-Did he just imagine what Y/N has said??

"What?" Y/N was weirded out, she hated the eerie silence between them and to top that up he might be imagining sexual things or so she thought..

"Capsicle, let's go!" Stark voice boomed out through the whole tower, it made Steve snap back to reality and he just walks away.

This made Y/N flabbergasted, he walked away just like that.. After the awkward silence and him being flustered, he just walked away with no explanation or whatsoever. Y/N just huffed in annoyance and flops back down to her comfortable messy bed..

What is wrong with Steve?

Days passed and it seems that Y/N is finally at peace, there were no longer eyes watching her.. Yes, Steve has given up.. How does she know? Simple, Steve is now avoiding and pretending she doesn't exist.. Which is fine by her, but there's this small pain in her heart.. She missed Steve acting like a douche..

Y/N mentally slaps herself, she used to complain about Steve always criticizing and annoying her but why is she missing it now? Y/N sighs as she slams her head in the table infront of her. A piercing pain welcomed her as her head hit the table but she ignored it.

"Umm, can I go on with my briefing?" Tony was standing in the middle of the big briefing room..

Y/N put her hands up and gestures an 'okay', she completely forgot that she was sitting with the Avengers in the middle of a meeting..

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Wanda was the first to ask her that, Y/N just let out a groan.. All of them just shared knowing looks and Tony fakes a cough.

"If you want to rest, you can go.." Tony chided..

"Alright.."

Y/N stood up and was almost to the door when Steve's phone suddenly rang, he answered it..

"Sharon?"

This name made Y/N stop, are they together? They look nice together, she hope that they'll break up soon.

"I'll be there.." Steve endes his call and stands up..

"Sorry everyone, I have a date with someone.." He push passed Y/N leaving her heart on the floor..

He has a date? Why is she even concerned about that? She doesn't care, Steve's stupid anyway!

"Wow, Capsicle is going on a date, I'll be damned.."

"And with Sharon?She's nice.." Wanda chirps in..

Meanwhile, Natasha notices Y/N who was dumbfounded and hurt by all the recent events..

"Aren't you gonna go, Y/N?" Nat asked with mischievous eyes wandering to her face..

Y/N put out a fake smile and left, how is she feeling this way? Does she like Steve? She groans as those thoughts eat her alive, maybe she just need a fresh air..

Yes, fresh air..

That's exactly what Y/N needs, she has been cooped up in the tower for weeks now.. She sped up to her room and grab her keys, jackets and Tony's credit card.. He won't mind it, that man is richer than the whole US goverment..

Y/N jogs to the elevator, turns out she's not going to be waiting for the elevator alone.. Steve is right there, also waiting for an elevator so he can go to his fancy date with someone else..

"Fuck.."

Y/N was deep in her thoughts that she didn't realize that Steve was looking at her.. She cleared her throat and walked up to the elevator doors..

"Up or down?" Steve asks making Y/N look at his stupid handsome face.

"Can't you figure it out Sherlock?" She's grumpy and she doesn't care.

"What?" Steve questioned.

"Down!"

"Could've just said that.."

"We're on the fuckin--"

"Language!" The infamous 'language', he's being dramatic as hell.

"Fine!We're on the freaking top floor and your asking me if I'm going up or down?"

"I didn't notice."

"You're just stupid.."

The elevator was taking forever, normally it would be up in a minute but she's been standing her for almost five minutes and the elevator is still a no show.

"This is taking forever, I'm going to take the stairs.." She was going to the staircase when the elevator doors opened..

"You're impatient.." Steve mumbles.

"Asshole.." Y/N mumbles back..

And before she knew it, she's pinned to the floor.. It happend so fast, Steve has pinned her down to the floor.. Their face were only inches apart, it made Y/N blush but she somehow hid it..

"Let me go, Steve.."

"Not until you beg for forgiveness.."

"Beg?Didn't know you had a kinky side, old man.."

Steve got flustered by her words, still he didn't let Y/N go.. She started to fight back by getting the upper hand and overpowering Steve.. Now she's on top, she smirks and inch her face closer to Steve's face.

"Dominant, I like that Cap.."

"Although, next time ask for a girls permission before you go and pin her to the floor.."

Without thinking Steve kissed Y/N, her eyes widen but soon she melted to the kiss. It started out soft but it became rough within seconds.. All of the unsaid feelings were mashed into the kiss.. She was out of breath but she didn't want it to stop.. Steve pulled back and smiled sweetly at Y/N, she was confused but she smiled back..

"You like me back?"

"No shit, Sherlock.." Y/N smiled but instead of Steve saying language he smiles back..

"You're so immature.."

They both laugh as Y/N got up and offered her hand to Steve, he gladly accepted..

"Go, you'll be late for your date..Wouldn't want to keep her waiting.." Y/N shooed Steve away but he just stands there..

"You are my date.."

"Well powder me in sugar and call me a donut.. Was all this planned?" Steve nods and Y/N just shakes her head in disappointment, she interlock her arm to Steve's arm.

"Let's go eat some ribs and steaks, Cap.."

On the briefing room with all the remaining Avengers, they were cheering and celebrating as they watch the two from a surveillance camera.

"Not bad, Cap.." Natasha mumbles as she eats popcorn with Wanda and Bucky.

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Californian Dream (Pt. 08 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

Decisions

A low knock on the door wakes you up. Your cheeks are stained by dry tears, and your head hurts. It takes a while for you to even process who's knocking, but you don't want to talk to him. “Go away.”

“(Y/N), I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have said those things, I didn't mean any of that.” He sounds defeated, tired, sad. It's hard to hear him through the door, but still, the last thing you want is to look at him right now.

“You made everything crystal clear, Billy.” You mumble, pulling a second blanket over your body. “Don't worry, I'll be leaving tomorrow.”

“(Y/N), please, I...” You hear him sigh, and your heart hurts for him. Hugging your pillow, you stare at the darkness. “These guys, they... They said some things and... It reminded me of my father.”

“Your father?” You ask because Billy never spoke of him. He did mention a stepsister, Maxine, and her mother Susan, but never the father. You knew he had a reason for it, but you never wanted to push him into telling you something he didn't feel comfortable with.

“Yes. He was a damn devil. He was abusive, he hit me, and what those idiots said to me today... It was the same things Neil once did and everything just came back and I...” He makes a pause, and you slowly sit up, looking at the door, the piece of wood separating you from Billy. “I shouldn't have said those things to you, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. And I understand if you want to leave... But I just need you to know that I didn't mean any of that. You're nothing like those people. You're kind and honest and noble... You're... You're amazing, (Y/N), truly.” After some seconds, you listen as he walks away.

Your heart sinks at what he said. At the pain in his voice. And as much as you're hurt by his outburst, he did had a reason. Memories can be tough, they have the power to drag you back to the very moment they were created, and now, thinking about it, you did see a hint of sadness in Billy's eyes earlier, you just couldn't recognize it. So this is why he fled. He wasn't just running from a small town, he was running from living in hell to the place he felt like home.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up, leaving the blanket behind despite the cold air that makes you shiver. Slowly, you move to the door, trying to open it as quietly as you can. As soon as you're out, the low noise of the TV and a bluish light hits you.

Billy is seated on the couch, elbows on his knees, and his eyes on the floor. It takes a few seconds until he notices your presence, raising his eyes.

“I'm sorry your father was a dick.” You whisper, standing there, eyes locked with Billy. “And whatever those guys said, it isn't true. I don't know what it was, but it isn't true.” Making your way to the couch and sitting beside him, you notice the bruise on the apple of his cheek. “What's that?”

“He punched me and I punched back.” As he speaks, you touch his cheek, delicately. “It got me a warning from the company. If it happens again, I'm fired.”

“It happens again, you give me the name and address and I'll beat them up for you.” Leaning closer, you ignore his chuckle, placing a soft kiss on his bruise, but your lips barely touch his skin since you don't want to hurt him more than he's already hurt. “I mean it.” Then you start kissing him. His cheek, his jaw, the corner of his lips. “Don't you ever believe anything they say.” When you realize what you're doing, you pull away, blushing and looking down. “Well, you should go to sleep now. The bed is yours.”

Nodding, he hesitates a little before standing up. But when he does, he doesn't move. “You know... It's a double bed. We'd both fit there.” Billy reaches out his hand, and you look at it for a while, considering his idea before taking it.

“Yeah, it does.” Standing up, you walk with him back to the bedroom.

It happens silently, as if it had happened many times before. When you lie down, facing away from him, you both move at the same time. You search for his hand, to pull it over your waist, as he moves to do so. “Is it ok?”

“Yes.” You mutter, eyes already closed as you slowly sink into a peaceful sleep.

•

When the morning comes, you only notice because Billy starts moving. Groaning a little, and still very cold, you turn around, snuggling closer to his chest. “Don't go.” You beg, knowing it's still on the week days, which means Billy has to work. “You're so warm.” Taking a deep breath, you hook your leg around his waist, as if it could keep him from getting up.

“I have to go to work, but I'd stay if I had a choice.” He giggles, running a hand through your leg. “Funny, you're...” You feel his hand on your neck as he mutters something you don't understand. “That's not good.”

“What?” You whine, a little upset and embarrassed, since you just realize how your leg was around him, so you move it off.

“You're burning up.” Billy gets up suddenly, fixing the blankets around you. “I'll go get something from the drugstore to lower your fever.”

You didn't notice the fever. Well, you've been feeling cold, but you thought it was the air-conditioning. “No. I don't want you to be late because of me.” Pushing yourself up, you sit straight. “I can get it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Billy...” Jumping to your feet, you walk fast until you reach him by the door. “It's just a fever. There's no reason for you to worry.” Shyly, you take his hand. “Just do your stuff and I can get some medicine later.”

“No. You've been complaining about being cold for a few days, it's bad enough you'll have to be alone here, I'll–”

“I'll be fine. I can call Stacy. Remember she said she has the week off? I will ask if she can stay with me.” It's not a big deal, and you don't understand why Billy is so worried about it. “Really, I'm alright.”

He takes a deep breath, a hand cupping your face, his thumb softly caressing your skin. Yesterday's fight is long forgotten now, for both of you. “Alright. But I'll be at the Whaylands today. Anything happens you call there, and ask to talk to me. Say it's an emergency or something like that, ok?”

You don't know the Whayland's number, but you just nod. “I'll be fine, don't worry.” Smiling, you tiptoe a little but give up halfway, blushing and looking away.

“You can kiss me if you want.” He smirks, bending a little to capture your lips. It takes no time until you react, but when you remember you have a fever, you push him away. “What?” He sounds confused, eyebrows furrowed.

“I might have a cold or something. I don't want you getting sick so...” Shrugging your shoulders, you feel a little brave. “But when I'm better, I wouldn't mind kissing you.”

“That's good to know.” He smirks. “Now, call Stacy and ask her to stay with you. I'll take a shower and get ready to work.”

“Alright.”

Despite him saying you don't have to, you make him breakfast, and a sandwich he can eat on the road. Stacy comes a couple of hours later and you take the pills she brought you. You like Stacy, and you feel free to be yourself around her, the rules you once followed completely left behind. So you're laughing out loud all day, even taking a walk on the beach after lunch. You can't wait to tell her and the others the truth. Your real name at least. They still call you Lily, and as far as they know, you've been crashing on Billy's until you find a place for yourself. But you do want to tell the truth, and you hope they'll understand why you had to lie. But now, that's a distant thought. Jimmy shows up at the end of the afternoon after Stacy calls him. And, with you both annoying him to death, he starts making dinner, which only makes you and Stacy boss him around with giggles and jokes.

“No, listen up now.” He says after putting the chicken in the oven. “Enough with bugging me, you two. I wanna know something.” Raising an eyebrow, he gestures at you, dramatically slamming his hands on the table, making you roll your eyes. “You and Billy.” He says. “What's going on?”

Feeling your cheeks burning up, you clear your throat, looking at your hands. “Nothing.”

“I didn't take you for a liar," Stacy says, crossing her arms.

“I'm not...” Taking a deep breath, you run a hand through your hair. “I'm not lying. There's nothing between Billy and I. Just... We just kissed a few times but–”

“I knew it!” Stacy exclaims, cutting you off and startling you a little. “Since that day at the party when we met.”

“Really?” Despite being a little shy, you do want to know whatever she thinks she knows.

“Billy had a lot of... Flings. But he never stood up for any of them. He never truly cared. So when he beat up Chad like that... I knew something was off.” She exchanges a glance with Jimmy, smirking.

“And, c'mon, the way he looks at you is so cute.” Jimmy makes a funny voice and you giggle. “He's really into you. And Billy was never into anyone.”

“Of course he was.” You exclaim.

“No, no,” Jimmy speaks up, shaking his head lightly. “He gets a girl he finds attractive when he's bored, that's one thing. Being into someone is completely different.” As the plays with the dishcloth, he takes a seat across from you. “And I did find it weird when he suddenly stopped showing up with a different girl every day, and now I know why.”

“I don't know... I mean, we're good now, but... It's nothing official, so...” Shrugging your shoulders, you look down, taking a deep breath. “But I'm happy the way things are now and who knows what may come next? I'll just take things slow.”

“You know what comes next.” Stacy chuckles. “Trust me, you'll two be dating in no time.”

“I bet,” Jimmy adds.

“Guys, just–” The door opening cuts you off, and you can't help but smile to see Billy. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, you.” He answers, glancing at the other two. “Hi, everyone else who doesn't live here.” Closing the door shut, he makes his way over you. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yup.” Nodding, you blush when he bends over to place a kiss on your lips.

“Good. I'll shower and... Something's burning.”

“Jimmy!” Both you and Stacy shout and the poor guy sets in motion, crouching in front of the oven.

“Please don't let Jimmy burn the kitchen to the ground,” Billy whispers on your ear before heading to the bathroom.

The chicken was burned, but Jimmy had the decency of taking those parts for himself. Other than that, he's quite a good cook. And this dinner is nothing like the formal meals you had back home. It's loud, filled with laughter and stupid jokes, that are no fun at all but make you laugh anyway. An hour later, after Jimmy went to the grocery store to buy chocolate bars for dessert, you're just seating at the table, fighting with Stacy for the last piece.

“Oh, listen up!” Jimmy raises his voice, making both you and Stacy quit arguing. And you decide to let her keep the bar. “I spoke to my grandfather's friend and... He'll give you a chance. So show up on Monday by nine and I'll start filling you up with everything you gotta know.”

“Oh my gosh, for real!?” You exclaim, a bright smile on your lips. “That's absolutely amazing. It'll be so fun working with you.” Standing up, you bend over the table a little to high-five Jimmy. “Great!”

“So... Will I have to ask?” Billy speaks up when you sit down again, staring at you.

“Well, I was waiting for an answer before telling you. Jimmy said something about a diving equipment store so I asked him to speak to the owner to get me a job.” Turning your body towards Billy, you smile. “And it seems like it's happening.”

“Are you sure you want an actual job?” He asks, and you know what he means. You never had a job before, and well, you don't understand much about diving stuff. But you want this. You want to have something to do, and you want to make some money too, despite the untouched bag of money you have.

“Yeah. Jimmy promised to teach me everything I need to know and he'll keep his promise or else nobody will ever hear of him again.” As you speak, you stare at Jimmy, lowering your voice.

“I'm not scared of you, Lily. But I'm scared of Billy so don't worry I'll keep the promise.” He winks at you, and you can tell he's bringing the Chad incident back again.

“You know what...” Stacy says, taking a dramatically deep breath and getting up. “It's a little late and I believe these two want some alone time so we should get going.”

“Agreed.” Jimmy quickly follows her lead. “Well, see you guys around.”

“Bye.” You mutter, already moving to the sink to do the dishes.

Billy joins and helps you, so it's done in only a couple of minutes. Then, you move to the couch, and you couldn't contain your happiness when you found Grease on TV, and somehow you managed to make Billy watch without complaining too much. At the beginning of the movie, you were seated normally, side by side, but as time went by, you started to move, closer and closer, until you're lying down, with Billy's chest pressed against your back in a spoon position. But the awkwardness faded soon enough, and you surrendered to the bliss of being held by him.

When the movie ended, you started singing along to the last song, trying to annoy Billy as much as you could. But up next is a horror movie, and of course, Billy is forcing you to watch it since he threw the remote control somewhere on the floor and won't let you get up to take it. But since it isn't very good, both of you started to lose interest.

“Hey...” He mutters. “Are you sure about this job thing? What if your father calls tomorrow saying this whole thing is over and you can go back home?”

“Uhm...” You weren't thinking about that. Actually, the life you're living now has easily become the only life you have. The rest feels more distant with every passing day. But the decision isn't hard to make. Now, you know what you want, and you will do what makes you happy. “I'd still show up on Monday. I want this job. I want to have a purpose in life, even if it's selling diving stuff.” Shrugging your shoulders, you furrow your eyebrows at a particularly disgusting scene.

“I don't think your parents would allow it,” Billy speaks low, and you feel as he moves the hair away from your neck, starting to run his fingers through the skin, so softly you barely feel it.

“To hell with me what my parents think.” His fingertips burn, but it makes you shiver at the same time. You can't help but close your eyes at the sensation, giggling a little when he touches a ticklish spot. “This feels nice.”

“Does it?”

You're about to answer when you feel his lips replacing his fingers, and breath gets caught in your throat. For a girl who had never truly kissed anyone before, this is a whole new level. “Oh...” You mutter, lightly elbowing him, mostly out of nervousness, when you feel his teeth on your skin. “Didn't take you for a biter, Hargrove.”

“Only if you ask.”

“Alright then...” Moving, you turn around until you're facing him, your lips chasing his as if it's a matter of life and death. And it kinda is. You felt like you were dead, suffocated by all the things you had to participate in, the friends you had to pretend to like, the formal meetings, the family business, the rules, and etiquette. Everything you didn't want to be. But when Billy came along, you felt like you were finally allowed to swim to the surface and breathe. Billy is real, he doesn't fake it. When he's angry, he's angry, and when he's sad, he's sad.

In a way, Billy brought back to life, down to Earth, and pulled you up among the clouds at the same time. Because that's where you are now, kissing him, for far too long maybe, with only a few pauses to catch a breath. It's addictive, inebriating, and you'd stay here forever if you could because nothing else matters. His hands run through your body, respectfully, never pushing you, never going too far. You'd never expect this from the Billy Gisele told you about.

“We should be together.” You let out once you break apart again, catching your breath. But you regret it because you might have ruined the moment... But you can't help but wonder how many girls Billy had, in the exact position you are now, making out, just so it'll all over the next day. And you don't want that. You want him, for more than just a couple of days... And yes, you failed. You are falling in love with Billy. Clearing your throat you shake your head. “I mean... I just thought...”

“Look at me.” With his index finger, he lifts your head so you're staring into his eyes again. “This won't ever be accepted by anyone in your circle. Parents, friends, relatives... You know that right? Nobody will support this relationship.”

“I don't need their support. I've been told what to do my whole life. What clothes to wear, what friends I should grow close to, what to major in... I'm tired of this shit, I want you.” It just comes out, too fast, and you don't even know what to say to cover it up. Because it's the truth. “California never felt like home to me until you came along. This... This place feels more like home than the house I grew up in.”

“I... I wish you could stay here.” Billy's voice it's so low it makes you wonder if you heard him right.

“Stay here as in... Mmm... Living here? Even after the gang is arrested?” Blushing, you decide to be brave and ask him. It's not like you could pretend you didn't hear it. And yes, living here sounds a lot better than going back to the house.

“Yeah.” He nods, taking a deep breath. “I can't give you a big ass garden, a pool or–”

“I'd trade all of that for kisses, so I think we'd be good.” Rolling your eyes, you cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?” In a fake menacing tone, Billy stars to move, trying to stay above you, but there's no enough couch and you start falling off.

“Billy, wait!” Laughing, you try to push him off. “I'm falling!”

“That's too bad.” Even though he doesn't stop and you do miss the couch completely, he manages to hold you by the waist, breaking your fall and instead, laying you softly on the floor before moving to hover above you, his body pressing yours against the cold ground.

Smiling, you wrap your arms around his neck. “You know I can–”

“Be my girlfriend.” Billy cuts you off, his face getting all serious suddenly. He's not joking.

“W-what?” It's not that you didn't get it, it's just that you can't believe. And, by the look on his face, he took that as a doubt. He's beginning to move away, but you grab a handful of his shirt, forcing him to stay where he is. “Yes.” You burst out, biting your lip. “I wanna be your girlfriend.”

The smile that comes to his lips is beautiful, breathtaking. Your favorite view in the world. “Good.” And with that, he leans down to kiss you again.

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23 @lilred91

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy stranger things imagine #billy stranger things #billy stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things

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accomplice-tendou · 3 years

Text

Chapter Twenty Three

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁

Y/N'S P.O.V.

"U-Uh anyway Y/N, we're here to talk to you about what happened last week."

"Last week?" I reply as I sit up, "What about it? I thought everything was okay?"

You watch as Tendou and Goshiki exchange glances before asking you to redescribe the event.

"Fine," you groan, "I was watching the cop talk to his friend about how he was determined to get me specifically because he's got some information from my file."

You shrug and wait for the guys to finally move on from the tedious conversation. Unfortunately for you, the opposite happens.

"What files?" they both ask frustratedly.

"I dunno, the police files I guess," you shrug, "we talked about this already."

Tendou narrows his eyes and shakes his head.

"No we didn't," he tells you, "Y/N are you hiding something from me?"

You shift your gaze to Goshiki and see he's got a serious look on his face. It's way more intense than what you're used to seeing from him, almost frightening.

"N-No, I'm sorry. I thought I told you guys."

You hang your head in defeat, the deafening sound of silence consuming you.

Suddenly, without a word, Tendou grabs your arm and pulls you up. You go with him, not putting up a fight as he roughly pulls you down the hall and into his room. You only notice Goshiki's presence when the door shuts behind him.

You watch as Tendou begins searching for something on his laptop. Once he's done, he pats his lap and ushers you to sit with him. You steal one quick glance at Goshiki, who now looks a bit worried, as you walk over to Tendou.

Tendou types something quickly onto his computer and a Youtube video pops up. Right away you notice the video's got thousands of views.

As the video begins, you squint slightly to get a better look at the poor quality of what seems to be from an older phone. However, the scene is still clearly recognizable.

You see a man, around the age of twenty, with a black eye and blood covering the majority of his face. In the background you hear a familiar voice laughing wildly. You gasp once you recognize the voice as Tendou's. Additionally, you hear muffled grunts from the assaulter who you recognize as Goshiki even though his face isn't shown.

What the hell?

Realizing that you've got a good understanding of what he's trying to show you, Tendou lifts his arm and points to the man getting beat up.

"That dude," he states confidently, "was hiding information from us."

Your heart starts beating out of your chest. You know exactly what Tendou is trying to say and you know one small screw up and you'll be done for.

"Y/N, I want you to know that I'd never even think about hurting you," Tendou whispers as he plays with your hair, "but if you hide something from us, I won't be able to control the others."

For the first time since being with Tendou, you feel tears streaming down your face. Not in fear of the police or getting caught, but of the group you were surrounded by. You know you didn't purposefully hold back information, but will these guys really not hold back after your mistake?

"Enough," you hear Goshiki's voice from behind you.

Quickly, Goshiki pulls you off of Tendou's lap and tries to embrace you reassuringly.

"I really didn't mean to hide anything," you sob to him, "I'm sorry."

As you continue to stay in Goshiki's arms, you hear the chair Tendou was in scape against the floor and heavy footprints walk towards you. Roughly, Tendou grabs onto your face and forces you to look into his eyes.

"Then tell us, Y/N, what did you hear him say?"

"H-He said that he has our files i-in his home," you reply shakily.

Tendou lets go of your face and nods to Goshiki. You feel his arms hold you tighter for a moment before he whispers a goodbye.

Once Goshiki walks away and out of the room, you feel less secure standing there with Tendou alone. In fact, you back up slightly until Tendou takes hold of your hand.

"Please, Y/N," he says calmly, "tell me the rest."

You begin to tell Tendou about the conversation you overheard the other day. You make sure to emphasize the part where Daichi said he could get in trouble if you and your friends weren't caught soon.

Once more you can't help the tears roll down your face. Thankfully though, this time it wasn't because you felt uncomfortable around your friends.

Tendou hugs you tight, letting you cry as much as you need.

"Don't worry, Y/N," he soothes as he rubs your back, "I'm going to protect you no matter what."

Your heart sinks. You felt awful for how you perceived the situation before. Tendou wasn't trying to hurt you, he was showing you that he needed you to be honest in order for him to take care of you. Knowing this, you throw your arms around him holding him tight.

"I'm so sorry."

"They'll be here any second," Tendou tells you the following day as you wait for the others to arrive.

"Why can't we just text them," you groan as you cover your face, "they're all going to hate me even more."

"You know it isn't safe that way," Tendou rolls his eyes, "but anyway they're not going to hate you. They don't hate you now."

"Ushijima does," you sigh.

"He's just like that," Tendou laughs, "He still likes you. I promise."

Just as the doorbell rings, you roll your eyes. You watch as Tendou walks over to answer the door followed by the rest of the group shuffling inside, sitting near you.

"All righty," Tendou beams, "We're all here because Y/N has something she remembered from what happened last week."

"She just remembered?" Shirabu asks with a hint of confusion and sarcasm.

"No, but we didn't have time to set up a meeting until now," Tendo lies, covering for you, "Go ahead, Y/N."

"Well the other day when I heard the cop talking, he mentioned having our files at his house and-"

"I told you Tendou," Ushijima stands, "Y/N lies and we can't trust her."

Quickly, Tendou pushes Ushijima away from the group.

"You're always pulling this crap," he berates his friend, "Just sit and listen to her for once!"

As you watch the scene Goshiki puts his hand on yours, pulling your attention to him.

"They're not going to do anything," he whispers, "don't worry about Ushi, k?"

You nod and once more your attention gets stolen. This time by Semi who sighs before pulling out his laptop. Even Ushijima and Tendou stop bickering as they watch Semi type something frantically and stare down at the scene with a burning intensity.

"Alright, I got his address," Semi calmly explains.

"See Y/N I told you it'll be fine!" Tendou smiles as he practically skips over towards Semi, "but I am going to need to borrow you again."

You look over at Goshiki who shrugs before catching on to the situation.

"It's what you gotta do," he says with a small smile.

Shirabu then calls you and hands you a small device.

"Here take this," he says, "and place it in the room where the files are."

"Oi, why'd you bring that with you?" Reon laughs.

"Shut up, I just had it on me," he retorts.

"Ooo, Shirabu's a little freak huh," Tendou laughs.

Shirabu ignores the comments and continues to explain to you how to work the device. He mentions that it'll allow them to hear what's going on in the room after you're gone. Once he is done, you give him a thumbs up and look over to your partner.

"Ready to go?" he smirks.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

#satori tendo x reader #satori tendou #tendou #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #x reader #x fem!reader

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Eight

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Seven

Read here on wattpad

A/N: Question — what song do you think of when you think of Nikki and Viv? I'm trying to see something

Word count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Sexual situations, Drug abuse

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My bare feet hook underneath his thighs the second I realize he's about to finish and he gives a crooked smirk up at me, his breathing beginning to shallow.

Nikki holds my hips still, groaning out as his cum coats the inside of me, causing me to let out a hazey moan, my mind cloudy from our rather lengthy round.

Once he's finished, I'm getting off of him and falling beside him, catching my breath as we recover is silence fore several minutes.

"Are you on birth control or something?" He asks me out of nowhere and I tense up, looking at him.

"Why're you asking?"

"I've been thinking about it since Vince and Sharise had Skylar, for some reason. I mean, I haven't used a rubber since we started dating and most of the time I don't pull out, and we've only had one pregnancy scare in the past, what, like, four years?"

"You've managed to keep track of how long we've been together?" I ask him, pretending to be shocked and he gently hits my arm with the back of his hand, and I chuckle, rolling over to face him, my lips pressing to his bicep for a moment.

I think I'm in the clear, dodging his question, but I'm not.

"I'm being serious, Viv, are you on something or...?" He asks and I lick my lips.

"Maybe my antidepressant affects fertility, I don't know." I shrug, lying through my teeth. "Drugs can cause issues on your end, too, so maybe that's another reason."

"Oh." He replies.

I avoid looking at him, sitting up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed before reaching down to grab his shirt by my feet.

You know those lies, that start simple and small, and then snowball more and more over time and explode in flames from hell that melt the snow and turn it into scalding hot water that leaves third-degree burns on the person that's being lied to? Yeah, we both had lots of those, and that was one of mine.

take a shower and brush my teeth, excited for my plans tonight, and as I start putting makeup up on, Nikki's getting in the shower.

"Are you and Robin going out tonight?" I ask him.

"Uh, yeah. Sparkie's coming, too." He replies and I roll my eyes.

I know they'll go out to a club and hide in the bathroom, shooting up and snorting blow a majority of the time, only leaving to get some drinks.

"My doctor was really curious as to why I needed a refill so soon being that he gave me a month supply a week before Sparkie traded it." I comment to remind him Sparkie's a piece of shit.

"Sparkie learned his lesson, baby." He tells me in a half-chuckle and I raise my brows at myself in the mirror and turn the sink on.

"Jesus fuck, Viv!" He screams, being bombarded with ice cold water for a moment.

"Awe, I'm sorry, maybe Sparkie can sympathize with you." I reply smartly.

He's getting out of the shower, covered in suds, glaring at me, and I take off running with him chasing close behind.

"Spoiled brat!" He calls at me, the both of us naked as jaybirds.

"Trader bastard!" I say back, right before he catches me, pulling me against his wet, soapy body, his hands not skipping a moment to start tickling me.

I squeal, the both of us falling to the floor, my feet and legs kicking out of instinct.

"Don't you do it." He threatens. "Remember what happened last time."

"Not my fault you're a pussy." I reply, immediately regretting it when he starts tickling me again, this time, getting on top of me to pin me down.

He doesn't let up until I'm laughing so hard I'm in tears, and he's tired of struggling with me.

We look at each other for a minute, before he grins and kisses me.

"I gotta finish getting ready." He tells me, getting off of me and helping me up.

"Yeah, I do, too."

I decided a nice trip to Malibu would be a great thing for GN'R. I mean, go to Tansy's house there, have her invite over some of her single girl friends to mingle with the guys, stay over night so they don't have to worry about whether or not they'd be able to crash at their stripper friends' apartment and sleep on the floor that night, have a nice breakfast together the next morning, and just give Axl and Izzy time to really get to know Tansy, because they haven't hung out with her very much, while Slash, Duff and Steven see her almost more than I do.

I glance around the living room of Tansy's Malibu beach house, seeing beach bunnies all around with perfectly tanned skin, bombshell hair and perfect smiles, then look at Steven and Slash, who seem to be having a pretty good time.

They both look like they're in heaven, girls on either side of them, obviously fans of their work on the Sunset Strip back in L.A.

Izzy took a girl up to the guest bedroom long ago, while Axl's just nursing a bottle of Jack, with a beautiful brunette chattering his ear off while he's pretending not to care about what Tansy's doing as she talks to one of her girl friends across the room.

I do a mental head count, and notice my 6'4 blonde is nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he found a girl or two of his own and followed in Izzy's footsteps, taking over a spare room?

I brush it off, deciding it's none of my business and step to the kitchen to grab a Pepsi out of the fridge.

When I pass by the doors that lead to the balcony over looking the ocean, though, I see the outline of someone sitting in the lounge chair.

Recognizing the slender frame, I grab my soda and head outside, Duff looking over his shoulder to see who I am, before smiling at me innocently, bottle of Vodka by his foot and pack of Marlboros on one knee as a sketch pad and pen are being supported by his other.

"Hi." I say as he scoots over to make room for me. "Mr. Social Butterfly." I add, sarcastically.

"Hey." He replies, moving his Vodka over so I won't knock it down with my foot.

"I figured you be eating that up." I motion to the door, referring to the gorgeous girls inside and he chuckles a little.

"I don't know, I haven't really been feeling chicks lately." He tells me and I furrow my brows a little.

"Well, I'm sure she has some boy friends, too, if you're feeling something different." I inform him, knowing what he meant, but he laughs and shakes his head.

"Not like that, Viv." He tells me and I pull my red hair behind my shoulders to get it out of my face, before taking a sip of my drink. "I've been, uh, working on something new, kinda. The lyrics have been going off left and right in my head, I just thought I'd better get somewhere quiet and write them down before I lose them." He explains, holding up his notepad.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I feel like I've intruded, or messed up his groove, about to leave him alone to finish but he puts his hand on my knee to stop me from standing up.

"No, no, it's fine." He insists, taking his hand off of me, not thinking anything of it, despite me feeling warmth radiate from where he touched me.

I ignore it.

"I've already gotten everything I had in mind, so far." He explains. "Just a verse and chorus."

"What's the name of it?" I ask, and he scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't know if I need to tell you. I'm superstitious about this stuff, Viv." He tells me, even though he's completely full of shit.

He just wants to aggravate me.

"It's just the title, Duff. You let me hear you say 'turn around, bitch, I gotta use for you' and this can't be worse than that." I point out and he chuckles, licking his lips before looking at me.

His hand covers the lyrics, exposing the title line of the page.

"Paradise City" is scribbled in his writing and I smile when he moves his hand and let's me read the chorus, and verse that he's gotten so far, a giant smile pulling at my lips.

"Who the hell inspired this?" I ask him, raising my brows.

"Nobody particular." He shrugs. "You like it?"

"I already love it." I tell him.

Not to compare two completely different bands who earned their names all on their own, but there are a few song parallels between Guns N' Rose's Appetite for Destruction, and Mötley Crüe's Girls, Girls, Girls albums.

Guns' Welcome to the Jungle was like Mötley's Wild Side. Paradise City was like Girls, Girls, Girls. Mr. Brownstone was like Dancing on Glass. But my favorite parallel has to be Sweet Child O Mine and You're All I Need.

I remember Nikki had given me a tape of You're All I Need after we got into a massive argument because he thought I was spending too much time with Duff. But he had practically accused me of having feelings for Duff, and even acting on them (which was pretty hypocritical being that he'd been screwing Vanity since 1986 at that point.)

A few weeks later, Nikki convinced me to come down to the studio so he could personally give me a copy of a song he had written me, and me--being excited--decided I wanted the guys to hear it, too.

I went to the Franklin Plaza where Steven, Duff, Slash, Izzy and Axl were hanging out, discussing a meeting they'd had with their label.

When I told them Nikki wrote a love song about me (thinking it was his way of trying to patch up our marriage and say to the world "I love this woman") the guys had to hear it, not believing me.

The ballad started beautifully, tears coming to my eyes, but my warmed heart quickly began boiling in my chest by the time the second chorus ended.

"I don't think this is a love song." Izzy stated, while shaking his head a little.

"Yeah, uh...he's talking about killing you." Axl had told me, everyone seemed slightly disturbed.

"Your girlfriends get Sweet Child O Mine and what does the dedicated wife that has done nothing but love this sick bastard get?! A song dedicated to his deep desire to murder me!"

"Dude, hasn't he actually tried to kill you before?" Steven asked.

Which made the song even more ironic, along with the last line of the chorus, "and I loved you but you didn't love me" which in itself was slap in the fucking face.

I didn't hear the full song at that time because Duff had took it out of the player and stomped it under his cowboy boot.

That pretty much set the tone for the months to come.

"You're also incredibly biased." He replies in the same tone and I nudge him with my elbow.

"You don't know how many songs I have actually had to tear out of Nikki's hand and hide them from him because they were so bad I just could not allow them to be recorded." I tell him.

"Oh, please." He brushes me off.

"Have you heard 'Theater of Pain'?" I ask him with raised brows.

"Yeah."

"Home Sweet Home and Smokin' in the Boy's Room were the only really good ones. And Smokin' in the Boy's Room was a cover. The other songs were songs I didn't know were written, or I would have hid them from him, too." I state and he tries not to laugh, but fails, making himself snort, which kickstarts my laughter.

Once we settle down, he clears his throat, and gets a kind of serious expression on his face.

"I really wish he wasn't on that shit, Viv." He tells me and I don't even have to ask who he's talking about. "I mean, I'm not judging him or whatever because Izzy and Slash are in on that stuff, too, but...I just hate to see he's on it, because it's kinda hard to manage it once you hit a certain point, ya know?" He asks and I nod a little. "I think he's a pretty cool guy...so it sucks to see him act like that."

"It's not that bad, right now." I tell him, completely in denial. "He's still Nikki, he just does stuff he's not suppose to. That's nothing new to me."

"I'm just a little worried, is all." He admits.

"There's no need to be." I reassure him. "He's got a handle on things."

Dear God did I eat those words a week later in Dallas, Texas.

It's like watching a fucking car accident.

Except instead of a car, it's my husband, and instead of a car accident, it's him losing his ever loving mind, crouched on the hotel room desk, as he babbles on, making absolutely no sense as he shouts at his parents who aren't even present.

I just came back from the pool, got a shower, and came in to him doing this.

"Nikki!" I try to get him out of whatever drug-induced show he's on.

"I'm not me! I'm not Nikki! I'm someone else!" He insists, hands yanking at his hair, his eyes completely taken over by an entirely different beast.

I panic, immediately calling Fred.

"The fuck is wrong?!" He asks when I open the door, hearing Nikki's screaming and carrying on and I try to keep the absolute fear that's locking up my system from showing.

"I-I don't know. I got in from the pool and he was kinda jittery but I thought he'd done some blow, but then he started screaming when I was in the shower and now he's--"

Fred gets tired of hearing Nikki's meaningless shrieks at people who aren't in the room with us, and snatches him off the desk.

Nikki hits the floor, and a switch is flipped, sending him into strong convulsions, opting thick, white foam to pour from his mouth.

"Fuck, Sixx!" Fred lets out, turning him on his side. "Get me a roll of toilet-paper." He barks at me and I do as I'm told, saying a very colorful, silent prayer in my head.

He tries to get Nikki to bite down on it to keep him from biting his tongue, but Nikki can't do it. screaming instead.

When I think I can't take the confused, scared, out-of-character shrill, it's like God himself knocks Nikki out, leaving Fred and I in complete silence, riddled with what just happened.

Fred checks his pulse and sighs in relief, looking at me.

"Viv, are you alright?" He asks me, taking deep breaths.

"Y-yeah." I say, nodding, even though I know it's written all over my face that I can't be further from "alright."

"Vivian--"

"I just need a second." I tell him, standing up to go to the bathroom, disguising oncoming tears in a strong, steady voice that's physically uncomfortable to push past the lump in my throat.

I lock myself inside the bathroom and turn the water back on, gripping the counter before I find myself in the floor, quiet sobs rocking through me.

I just want my Nikki back...not this tainted demon nesting himself in Nikki's skin, festering his bullshit in Nikki's mind.

By the time I'm worn down from crying, and tired from lying on the bathroom floor, I pull myself up and open the bathroom door, stepping into the room.

I guess Fred put Nikki in the bed before he left, because Nikki's still passed out, just tucked in the covers.

I get pajamas on, scared to even touch him because I don't want him to start seizing again.

Cautiously getting closer to him, nestling my forehead against his arm, I thank God for the feeling of his pulse under my finger tips in the crook of his arm, and find myself passing out with utter exhaustion.

The next morning, Nikki's really quiet.

I'm not sure if he remembers what happened last night, but I'm not asking him.

After finding a needle and evidence of an 8-ball of coke, he can lick my twat if he thinks I'm talking to him anytime soon.

The video shoot for Home Sweet Home is happening today, and a limo picks Nikki and I up at the hotel, driving us to the venue, neither of us acknowledging the other.

Once we get there, someone's dressing Nikki like a damn toddler, because he's too fucked from last night to dress himself in his done up stage costume.

Nikki was so, so, so, obviously, utterly fucked up when they filmed the music video for Home Sweet Home.

The entire time, he was chugging Jack to try to calm himself down from a high he later described felt like, "being on acid and speed at the same time" and with the way he was acting like he couldn't see a damn thing, I believe it.

He kept sunglasses on a majority of the time so people couldn't see how his eye were practically doing cartwheels.

"Viv, we're about to start, where's Nikki?" His bass tech asks me and I glance around, furrowing my brows a little.

"I haven't seen in him about an hour. He went over there by the stage...at least I think he did." I tell him, stepping over to the last place I saw him. "He was here and..." I trail off, hearing Nikki having a full blown conversation, his voice coming from underneath the stage.

The two of us sit and listen for a moment, realizing Nikki's just talking, taking long pauses, then answering a question that was never asked by anybody, not even himself.

"Who is he talking to?" His tech asks me under his breath so Nikki won't hear.

I roll my jaw, getting fed up.

"Probably the fucking demon he sees and befriends every time he gets high." I state, fully believing that at this point, there is indeed a demon following him around, breathing down his neck, stripping him of his control and cheering him on with each grain of coke, bottle of Jack, cc of heroin and prescription-grade pill.

"Nikki," His tech starts. "Who're you talking to?"

"I'm talking. Leave me alone." Nikki argues.

"Nikki." I state, looking at him.

It's the first time he's heard my voice all day.

"There's nobody there, baby. C'mon." I motion my hand for him to get out from under the stage.

"Leave me alone!" He snaps at me, nearly hissing.

"Dude, calm down, you're freaking out." His tech tells him.

"Nikki, get your ass out from under there or so help me God, I will come in and drag you out by your dick." I promise him.

He puffs up like a pissed off rooster and stomps out, passing by us, grumbling under his breath.

Do you wanna know what was really fucked up about that time? Vince couldn't have a beer without someone losing their mind. He was supposed to be sober. Nikki would bust Vince's balls if he even saw him looking at a bottle...but then Nikki would load anything and everything into his body, simultaneously.

Vince quickly became the odd man out, and had been ever since that night with Razzle. There was this vibe, this tension, that Vince was only kept in the band at that time, because they were getting hotter and hotter, and each member was the ticket to reach their full potential as a band. Each member was important.

Without Tommy, there was no band. Without Mick, there was no band. Without Nikki, there was no band.

And without Vince, there was no band...that was the one that really didn't sit too well with Sikki.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #mick mars #tommy lee #mötley crüe #the dirt

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