#YOU WERE THE MAIN MOTIVATION FOR THIS BECAUSE WE JUST ALL LIKE SOFT CROSS

[cosmicbucky]

daisies and dances lead to heartfelt romances

summary: you offer to take bucky out a few times so he can practice what it's like to date in the modern world. unbeknownst to each other, both your offer and his acceptance have an ulterior motive

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3845

part: one

warnings: minor swearing, fluff, tony is a dick with a hidden agenda, some angst, soft/shy/grumpy bucky, pet names/nicknames, unknown but mutual pining, oblivious idiots in love, sad bucky, mentions of bucky's struggles

a/n: this is planned to be at least two parts, maybe three.

big thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for encouraging and supporting me with this!!

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The compound was quiet, softly lit to guide your way to the kitchen. It was late in the night, but not too late that everyone was asleep. Your socked feet were silent on the cold floor, and as you made your way to the fridge you heard laughter coming from the main entertainment room. You smiled to yourself as you went to grab a bottle of juice, focusing in on the conversation being held.

"Come on man! You can't be serious," you heard Sam say, laughter clear in his voice.

"Just drop it, Sam," Bucky replied, warning clear in his voice.

The smile slipped from your face as you closed the fridge with a sigh. You knew that tone. It wasn't Bucky's patented 'my god these people are so annoying' tone. It was his 'the next person who says something is getting thrown into a wall' tone. Which meant he was actually upset over whatever the conversation was about. It was rare for him to really get worked up beyond his usual moody demeanor, and you couldn't help the worry that surged through you.

"Oh, no. No, no this is way too good to drop, Barnes," Tony chimed in with a laugh. You could just picture the smirk on his face, and your feet moved quickly to carry yourself towards the conversation.

Bucky noticed you approach from where he sat, and he sent you a pleading look. Please help me, his eyes screamed.

"Don't tell me you guys are picking on Bucky again," you said, trying to sound casual as you leaned against the wall.

"You mean grumpy mcgee over here? You bet your ass we are," Tony replied happily.

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him. "Why now?"

"This dude can't date to save his life!" Sam spoke up, overly amused about it.

Bucky sank further into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he zoned out to somewhere far away, and you felt a pang in your heart at the sight- how can such a large man manage to look so small; so defeated?

"You guys are roasting him because he hasn't been on a date yet?" you asked, your annoyance about it clear in your voice.

It may be a little strange, but you had always felt protective over Bucky. The team often ganged up on him, and besides Steve, you were his closest friend - the two of you took a little while to warm up to each other, but once the ice thawed the two of you were rarely seen without the other. Now, it's not to say you never joined in on teasing him - because you did, quite often - but you knew when to stop. Perhaps it was because he would open up to you about some of the things he felt insecure about during your moonlit talks, the two of you tucked safely under blankets or hidden away somewhere in the compound as you spoke what neither of you could say in the light of day. Or, maybe it was because you just knew him well enough to know whether a topic would upset him or not. Whatever the reason may be for it, you always knew what was okay to say and what wasn't. Bucky would never be able to say how much he appreciated you for that.

"Tinman's been on dates, didn't you know?" Tony asked, grinning at you mischievously. "He just blew them all."

You tried not to let the hurt show on your face. He's been on dates? God, of course he has, look at him.

"Okay, and? You've never had bad dates before?" you asked, letting the anger start to shine through. "Just leave him alone."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Awe, look at that. Mommy dearest to the rescue once again, huh, Barnes?"

You stood up straight as rage surged through you, opening your mouth to tell him where to go. Before you could, Bucky's voice rang out: "Watch your fucking mouth, Stark. Or I'll shut you up myself," he warned, voice eerily calm as he glared at Tony.

Bucky was never really one to speak up when others came at him, more or less just taking it with an eye roll, clenched jaw, or tight smile as they all had their fun. However, once the comments turned towards you, as they always seemed to if you were around (and let's be honest, how often were you not around?), he was quick on his feet to stop them in their tracks, making the room feel so tense that no one else said anything for fear the air around them would actually suffocate them if they opened their mouth.

"Here we go again," you heard Sam mutter to himself. "Alright, I'm out of here. See you guys later," he added, walking out of the room with his hands up in a display of surrender.

He gave you a knowing look as he walked out, ignoring your questioning gaze and instead giving you a loving pat on the shoulder as he passed by. With him now out of sight, you turn your attention back to Tony, waiting for what was to come next.

"Look, all I'm saying-" Tony started, waving his glass around emphatically - amber liquid on the verge of splashing everywhere.

"No one cares what you're saying, Tony," you interrupted, already exasperated from the interaction.

He held up his hand, pointing a finger at you. "Come on, princess. You really gonna take away my fun? Under my own roof?"

"Yes, I am. Can't you take a day off from being a complete dick to him? Just once? We've all seen this show before, Tony, and it always ends the same way," you said, walking further into the room to snatch the glass from his hand, glaring at him as you did so. "And don't call me princess," you seethed, slamming the glass down on the side table behind you.

You didn't want to hate Tony, in all honesty you truly did love him. At the end of the day he was your family, and family wasn't perfect. However, you couldn't keep down the small bubbles of hatred that boiled inside you whenever he started to target Bucky. You didn't see him as family when he waved his disdain for the soldier around like a kite in the wind; you just saw him as a rich douchebag picking on someone beneath him. You hated the way he treated Bucky, and you absolutely loathed the way he made Bucky's voice tremble ever so slightly with self doubt when he lays in your arms in the dead of night, recounting the things Tony said to him that keep him awake, that make old wounds reopen. You loved Tony, but his hatred for Bucky also made you hate him.

"No? Do you only like it when RoboCop calls you that?" Tony asked calmly, a malicious glint shining in his eyes, his smirk growing wider when he saw your expression. 

You felt the blood rush to your face, recounting a few of the times that the name had slipped through Bucky's lips; though it was from the haze of sleep and moments of vulnerability, there were few memories you cherished more. "Go to sleep now, princess. I'll be here when you wake up." "Thank you for staying with me, princess." "You're safe now, princess." 

"Yeah, I hear a lot of things around here that I probably shouldn't. Now, why don't you lighten up and let me say my piece, princess?" Tony continued with a grin, and it took everything in you to not smack it off his face.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Bucky suddenly spat, making you jump slightly - he had fallen so silent you half forgot he was even there. The menace that dripped from his words sent a chill down your spine, and you sent one last glare at Tony before you glanced over your shoulder.

One look over at Bucky as he jumped from the couch told you he had never been more serious. His jaw was tight as his lips pressed together in a fine line, his fists clenched so tightly that the mechanisms in his left arm started to whir and the veins in his right arm shone prominently, his whole body tense as his chest heaved. He took two quick steps forward, but the second you raised your hand to his chest he stopped.

"Buck, it's alright," you said calmly. You knew it wasn't - you were angry, hurt, embarrassed, and a million other things; but you couldn't let Bucky in on that. You had to brush it all off so you could be the calm that Bucky needed in order to tame the never ending storm raging furiously inside him.

Bucky looked down at you with narrowed eyes, as if he didn't understand a word you said. "I'm supposed to just let him talk to you like that?"

If it weren't for the seriousness of the moment, you would have blushed from his words. Instead, you huffed and lightly shoved him away. "Yes, because you're feeding into exactly what he wants, Bucky. You know all he wants is to mess with you."

"Not true," Tony chimed in from behind you. "I want lots of things, pumpkin. In fact, one of those things is Pepper, so I'll be going now. And hey, when you and soldier boy here finally get married, just remember - I'm ordained."

You spared a glance in his direction just in time to see his shit-eating grin before he turned and sauntered happily out of the room.

"Can you two ever give me a fucking break?" you scolded, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Aw don't you start now, too," Bucky whined, tossing his head back slightly as he sighed, making his way back to the couch.

You sighed as well, following in his wake to plop down beside him. You didn't need to say anything, he took one look at you and knew the question that was already dancing on your tongue: what was it about this time?

"Look, it doesn't matter," he huffed out, slumping his shoulders as he looked down at his hands resting on his lap, wringing his fingers together. 

“Come on, when have I ever let it go that easily?” you asked, nudging his shoulder. 

He let out a humourless chuckle, the corners of his mouth flicking upwards for the briefest of moments as the memories of the countless times you two have been in this situation flashed through his mind. 

You could see the turmoil on his face, and you knew he was trying to find a way to express what was going on, so you sat patiently and waited for him to find the proper words. 

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he finally settled on, the words coming out in a rushed breath. 

Before you could question him, he carried on with a frown, his brows knit together. “It was so much easier back then, you know? Flash a smile, go to the fair, wear the uniform, whatever. I never had to think about it, but now there’s- there’s just so much…. so much expectation. You bring flowers and you care too much, you don’t bring flowers and you don’t care enough. I-it’s like everything that I do, I should have done the opposite. I can’t get anything right.”

You sat in silence for a moment, his words bouncing around in your head. Each syllable he spoke fractured your heart until it was shattered into bits; but all you cared about as you looked at the broken man in front of you was putting him back together, hoping that your words and your comfort and your care would be enough to put together the delicate pieces of him - the pieces that broke off every time he doubted himself, every time he remembered his past, every time he did something wrong on a mission - the pieces that you picked up and kept safe inside of yourself until you had the chance to give them back to him, gluing them on with whispers of affirmation and promises that everything would be okay in time.

“You never mentioned any of this before,” you said tentatively, the unspoken words why did you keep this from me? hanging in the air. “Is this what they were teasing you about? Your struggle to figure out how to date again?”

He let out a huff of air as he slung his head back to rest against the back of the couch, shaking it lightly as he stared up at the ceiling, his jaw flexing with contemplation. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal, but then Jackass 1 and Jackass 2 found out and ran with it.”

“Okay, well.. walk me through it. Is there someone you want to take out on a date right now? Maybe I can give you some ideas,” you offered softly, the words tasting bitter in your mouth as you spoke them. 

He groaned, running his hands over his face before smacking them back down on his legs, his palms dragging across the fabric covering his thighs for a few seconds; a habit, you noticed, that he often did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. “No,” he said flatly, biting down on his tongue to keep the words yes, my delicate little flower, I want to take you out on a date from tumbling out of his mouth. 

“No?” you echoed, surprised by the response. 

He nodded his head in confirmation. “No,” he repeated, looking at you. Taking in your expression, he carried on. “Like, no there isn’t anyone. I don’t- I didn’t even want to go on those dates, but… I couldn’t- I mean, I kinda just…. felt like I needed to."

There was so much he left unsaid at this moment. So much he wanted to say, needed to say - not only just to get it off his chest, but because he believed that you deserved to know. Every time he looked at you he had the burning desire to bare his soul to you, to tell you all the things he kept buried away in the deep recesses of his mind, locked away in a vault only you could open. He wanted to tell you that he still feels so out of place, that most days when he was out in this new world he suddenly resembled a child who was lost amongst a crowd of scary and unfamiliar things - desperately searching for something he recognized that he could cling to. He wanted to tell you that you were the familiar thing he found to cling to, that he carried you in his head and in his heart every time he was out; that when things got too overwhelming he closed his eyes and recalled the encouraging words you always told him, that when that wasn't enough he called you with some lame excuse just so he could ground himself with your voice - "Hey, doll. What was the name of that bakery you took me to the other week? I'm thinking of getting more of those cookies we liked." He had saved the bakery's location to his phone (something he knew how to do thanks to you) the second he saw how your eyes sparkled when you got there, just to make sure he could always find it and pick things up for you. "Hey, so, I just got yelled at because I walked by and ruined someone's… what the fuck was it? It has to do with a clock or something? Does that sound like something you know? Please tell me what the hell that is because I feel like I'm going insane." He knew what it was. He had downloaded the app after he witnessed how much it made you laugh, and he had an endless amount of saved videos that he thought you would like, but for some reason wasn't brave enough to show you. "Okay, I’m out shopping - and don't laugh because this is a serious question - do you think I would look good in pink?" He vividly remembered your words from a few months ago, when he was burritoed in your fuzzy pink blanket during movie night, and you told him so casually that he should start wearing pink because it complimented his eyes. He wanted to tell you that you were the only thing in this universe that could still the incessant maelstrom that was his mind. That when he was out on those dates the storm raged on more intensely than ever, but one look or word from you and everything was quiet; not even a trace of rain. 

He wanted to tell you. But he didn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Oh, but he needed to- 

"You wanted to try to fit in," your gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts, his head snapping to look at you. To see your eyes, full of understanding. To see your lips, pulled into a sad smile - but not one of pity, one that said all you wanted was to help him through yet another battle he was fighting with himself.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah. I guess I just figured.. well, I don't know. Everyone kept saying how I needed to get out there. That dating was the next best step I could take to try and….. to- to understand how to live in this world better. I just wanted things to make sense again, but now I'm even more lost and confused than before I even went on those god damn dates."

You tried to keep your face even, to not let him see how sad it made you to hear the way his voice wavered when he told you what was going on. To not let him know that you sensed how small he was feeling, how even though his broad frame still shadowed you as you both sat there, he had never seemed so small.

"Well…. take me on a date," you suggested, not taking the time to even think about it. 

Bucky swore the whole room started to spin. His mouth ran dry and his heart hammered so heavily in his chest that he was convinced you could hear it. He knew he heard you wrong, he wasn't lucky enough to have a girl like you. The world was cruel, and he knew that the one sliver of hope that he had for a truly blissful life would never be fully his. That one day it would leave him, just like everything else throughout the years, as you found yourself in the arms of someone else. He would never have you the way he wanted you, the way he needed you. He knew that. So he had to have misheard you. "Come again?" 

Your whole face lit up when he asked this, and Bucky could feel himself coming undone. Your hands on his arm when you grabbed him in excitement suddenly felt so different than in the past. It used to feel warm, comforting, calming; but for some reason this time it sent a jolt of fire and electricity through him, and he never wanted to lose that feeling. He wanted to feel it again, feel it always, feel it forever. 

“Yeah! Oh, it would be great, Buck! We can go on a few dates, and I can help you find your footing with it all before you get back out there,” you said excitedly. You purposely overinflated your smile so he wouldn’t see the way your lips faltered with the struggle of getting out the last part, diverting your gaze for the smallest of moments so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes dimmed with the thought of him being with someone else. 

Bucky shifted where he sat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as his mind went into overdrive trying to think of a response. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to say yes, but then there was a small piece of him that knew it wouldn’t end well - the piece that knew how he truly felt about you, the piece that knew it would easily be tricked into thinking these dates actually meant something to you; because lord knows they would mean the world and more to him. Bucky wanted to say yes, but he knew he had to say no. He had to say no because it wouldn’t be fair to you - you were offering to help him and he would be taking advantage of your kindness, using it to get to see you in a light he’d never be able to otherwise. He had to say no because saying yes could ruin everything. He may not be able to go back to the way it was before these dates, too addicted to ever quit you. He had to say no, for your sake, because it was a selfless offer. Bucky, however, was selfish when it came to you. 

“You know, doll… that may not be the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” he had said, giving you a lopsided smile. Your eyes lit up once more as you grinned at him, and no matter how hard he tried to keep his composure he couldn’t help but mirror your expression, feeling as giddy as he did the first time he was allowed to stay up late as a kid. 

“Excellent choice, Barnes,” you said playfully. “I swear you won’t regret it, it’ll be really fun. Just you and me, no expectations.”

Bucky nodded, shifting his head to scratch his jaw so you wouldn’t see the light frown that danced across his lips for a moment. “No expectations,” he repeated, careful to keep his voice level. “I can work with that.”

“Good,” you said softly, nodding a little. “I’ll give you some time to think about it and plan something, and you can just let me know whenever you wanna go on date number one.”

He was silent for a minute, taking the time to carefully churn the words over in his mind before answering. He didn’t want to make it obvious, but he knew immediately what he wanted to do. How could he not? All he ever did was look for new things he thinks you’d like, find himself dreaming of where he’d take you if he ever got the chance. Sure, you guys have done lots of things together before - brunches, lunches, dinners, movie nights, events, parties; you name it. Though there was never any meaning with any of those, it was always just friends spending time together. How were either of you supposed to know you each wished they meant something more? Heaven forbid you two would actually say how you felt.

"No need," Bucky said, rising from the couch with a small chuckle, looking down at you with the smile he reserved only for you. The one that skillfully said everything and nothing all at once. “Lunch. Tomorrow.”

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #winter solider x reader #bucky x reader fluff #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky fic #bucky barnes au #bucky angst #bucky and reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes reader insert #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes fanfic

[nightgoodomens]

How did you predict that ??! It is awesome but omg . Like honestly he is trying so hard to get her out there I do feel it is abit late tho.

More asks and answers below:

Because they went very basic obvious PR. If something feels forced, on purpose, not organic, not usual; if it stinks, it stinks for a reason.

It started with him making a point to mention her during his BAFTAs interviews to ensure they write her name down.

Constant mentions from a man who always avoided talking about her are always suspicious.

But hey maybe I’m too cynical?

Then with every article underlining she’s an ACTOR. Which was a stretch anyway and frankly no media would care to mention her if he didn’t tell them to.

But hey maybe I’m too cynical?

Then bang we wake up in the morning of BAFTAs with every trash magazine writing articles about her suddenly about some old stuff so they were told to do so because they had zero reason to do that themselves. They had zero reason to care about her when she hasn’t done anything new so they had to bring up really old stories and focus purely on her even though it was David’s day. So they were paid to do so.

But hey maybe I’m too cynical?

But then bang again we are suddenly getting a whole over-acted show. Oh my godddd you look amaaaazing he made such an amazed face right in front of the main camera where they decided to meet. What a coincidence! Click📸. Ohhh time for a huge PDA kiss in front of all these cameras! Click📸. Oh now you give me a long loved look and now I do that in return! Click📸. My goodness like in a perfect movie with actors… oh.

And then ok we are done, where’s Michael?

David has worked his ass off to give her everything he could, even getting Michael to give her a role, now it’s up to her to do something with it. He will probably try to push her wherever possible, but we will need to see if suddenly after all these years she became an actress that people want because of her skills not famous surnames. Surnames only get you so far.

If she’s still the same, he can dance on his head and it won’t work. Sure Neil is his buddy was loves a nepo show, and Michael loves David, so he did it for him (he did make her watch an intimate moment between men though lmao), but how many more people will take her on just because David is pretty?

Oh I wonder what suddenly made him so desperate and motivated to find her a job after years of failures… so he’d be more free… I wonder if it starts with M and ends with L.

Honestly I was laughing when people were all “this is true love!” no babes this is business. The most blatant of businesses.

I doubt she suddenly became a good actress so I wonder if they will try something else with her. I just wish DT got a break and in result us.

I think things are a little different now and so might be his priories. I hope the agent won’t keep on using him to promote her. Even more than already.

Yeah I cross my fingers for GO to be nepo free but…

No wonder he’s so tiny, dude is exhausted from everyone hanging on him. He tried so many freaking times with GT, I just hope that agent finds her something that isn’t just hanging on him.

He is a shover 😂

If she actually wanted a job then she’d have found something she’s actually good at years ago. But she wants the “cool” job and doesn’t want to admit she just isn’t that good. When you are privileged, you can spend 15 years having your man try to make you an actress. Normal people go “damn I’m shit at this and I need to pay bills so let’s find something else”.

Aw thank you for writing in and don’t worry!

I’m not 100% sure yet.

I could see AL/MS break up but not GT/DT but now I have a slight itching (after seeing that the PR show was indeed to get GT a job) whether… well…

We have such an extreme push to make GT and AL independent or at least slightly less dependent on the dudes and it’s clearly a whole plan that they have put into motion. Why such sudden need? Especially since soft launching MS/DT at the same time?

I definitely won’t say oh yeah sure there is a separation coming. But I’m also not saying “no way!!!” anymore.

If a separation will come then on beautiful (££) terms though.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR #NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David

[twinsunstars]

Why I Love the Characters of The Bad Batch

(a lil fun post before the chaos increases)

Hi everyone! I've seen some people talk about why they love the characters of the Bad Batch before on here, and I felt like making my own post and discussing how each character from the show speaks to me and why I like them so much. I'll discuss a few characters that I find myself resonating with, and you all can sit back and just listen to me ramble. :)

Hunter

Being the oldest sibling of the Bad Batch and a man who is shorter than his brothers, I relate to Hunter a lot not just because I am the oldest sibling and 5 feet tall. Hunter does everything he can to keep his squad safe and cares for his brothers and sister, and he is often looked towards as the leader of the squad. Many people often come to me for advice. Hunter is a big comfort character for me (and so is the rest of the Batch), and he’s the character I connected with the most ever since the Batch were introduced.

Wrecker

One thing I absolutely love about Wrecker is his playfulness. He isn’t afraid to be himself around others, and it relates to how I show my personality and playfulness around others with ease (not fully though, my insecurity gets in the way haha). He had Lula with him most of the time for comfort, and I’m always sleeping while surrounded by many of my stuffed animals. He knows when it’s time to get serious, especially when things are being hard around him (such as Hunter being really depressed at the start of this season with Omega missing), and he’s there to help comfort others. I love how smart he is. Wrecker spoke to me by helping me understand that I don’t need to be perfect, I just need to be someone who makes me feel happy. I quote Wrecker, “Defective and effective!”

Tech

Tech is honestly me whenever I ramble to others about things. He loves to explain things to people and talk about things that he is really interested about and fascinated by, and it’s me whenever I am around people. His little speech in “The Crossing” was amazing, and I love him for opening up about his feelings slowly that way to Omega. He’s always got his nose buried in his datapad, researching things, and I’m always looking everywhere and reading information whenever something interests me. Tech is an amazing character and will always have a special place in my heart.

Echo

We hear Echo being called the mom of the Batch, and I am often called the mom of my friend group. Echo’s determination to fight for what he believes is right and wants to do makes him one of the characters that motivates me whenever I have things to get done and want to chase my goals and dreams that I have in my life. Echo cares for his brothers and sister, and he’s ready to fight for the right things. He’s also a soft sweetheart.

Crosshair

The main thing about Crosshair that I resonate with the most (especially this season) is his path of healing. Ever since that scene where Omega teaches him to meditate to help his shaking hand, I was breathing along with them. Since the beginning of this year, I set myself onto a slowly paced journey to heal from all that I went through last year. Watching Crosshair start to heal on his own just warmed my heart and had me following along with Omega’s meditation lesson so I could work on healing just like Crosshair was. Crosshair’s been through a lot of suffering with the previous seasons, and it’s time for him to start healing from all of that. Even though the show has a lot more pain for him in store likely T-T

Omega

Omega is such a little sweetheart, and watching her grow up over the seasons has been emotional for me. She was this little naive girl in Season 1, and she is still young, but she’s maturing really fast. With all of the things she’s been going through each season, it’s likely one of the reasons why. Omega’s been learning from her brothers and learning a lot about the galaxy she lives in, starting to expand on her knowledge and understanding the rights and wrongs of the world around her. I learned a lot of things at a young age and it’s part of how I started being seen as mature at a young age because of this, and there was a lot of things I went through at a young age that caused me to mature quickly. Omega still has her playful and optimistic nature inside of her, and I love that side of her.

Emerie

Yes, I even found myself resonating with Emerie at one point for good reason. The reason why I personally resonate with Emerie is because I see her naive side in me. I grew up being an obedient girl with my parents and mostly doing what they told me to do, and I often easily believed things that they told me. Emerie has grown up believing that the world around her isn’t safe and if she stays in one place and follows what she is told to do, then everything will be okay. I saw myself in her after realizing this, and Emerie has a lot to learn in the coming episodes.

With four episodes left, The Bad Batch has been such a great show and they will continue to be part of my long list of comfort characters. It’ll cause pain, but it’s still a great addition to my life, adding color, happiness, and sadness to my heart.

#star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch omega #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch tech #the bad batch crosshair #emerie karr #tbb #sw tbb #tbb s3 #tbb hunter #clone force 99 #sw tbb s3 #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch

[shadowynn]

I honestly get that the guys are not supposed to be good guys, and there are yandere themes going on... But I do feel for joong (and the rest) in the beginning of the chapter. It won't be fair for us to judge them in the same fabric as how we would humans, no? So... Yes, they might not be the best, and this is very toxic, but I do get where and why joong is coming from. And one has to take into consideration that they are trying to give mc space, so yeah, they do skirt the line but ig that's that. Wooyoung on the other hand... Yeah again, I get why he wants to access her memories, but that's something that definitely crosses that line so I'm actually glad the others were against it 🥰🥰

OoOoO, who's acting after so many years? Seems like they have history with ot8~ I agree with mc, they don't seem to be human oop— I get that mc is... Scarred and has had history that makes her not trust them... But I do kind of find it unfair that she's like "who's the real them?" I mean, not everything has to be black and white right? They can be both, the bloodthirsty daemons on the battlefield and the way they are in front of mc. It's not like they wanted the war anyways, it was the humans who did not agree to peace in the first place.

Oop— we're seeing HJ's mother soon aren't we? I'm kind of excited for the ✨spice✨ that she'll bring to the story hehehe (*cough*k-hotchillipeppers*cough) honestly though, I wish mc was kinder to herself T^T I FEEL BAD FOR HER ASDFGHJKL... Loved the chapter as usual, especially the little moment mc had with Jongho hehe~ 🥺🥺🥺🥺

(*peeps from behind the wall and waves before returning to the abyss of assignments* ~Sky)

ajfkl;jdal;kfjdl;kajflk;jda

you have no idea how excited i am right now. literally made my entire weekend hearing from you!! i hope life has been easing up on you and your assignments haven't been treating you too badly. literally sending all my love and all the motivation i can summon your way!! you've got this!! <333

i am right there with you with feeling for the guys. whenever i first started this piece, i didn't have their backstory fully fleshed out yet, so while, hongjoong's father was always going to be a terrible person, his effect on the others wasn't something i had thought of until i was writing chapter eight. and now, man, i have such a soft spot for them, like legit, i couldn't complete that chapter without joong getting a hug at the end.

as for the attackers, well... they're actually characters i also didn't plan on in the beginning, but an idea that came later that i'm actually really excited about and something that i feel is going to be really fun writing. i love the main character i have planned and am excited to delve more into it all here later on. (i have such a hard time keeping things i'm excited for secret, so you have no idea literally how much i just want to gush/talk ideas with you and others. but i will stay strong, no matter how hard it can be at times)

i really like you're take on mc. one thing that i've been trying is to make sure mc also has their own faults because sometimes i'm really bad at making my characters too mary sue. as much as i want them to be perfect, i know they can't be and having faults in a character makes them them. mc may be a kind person at heart, but despite all she's done for the daemons, she still harbors prejudice against them because of her upbringing and the daemons in front of her are so different than everything she's had engrained into her her whole life, she struggles to make sense of it all. just as the humans have made her feel less than human, she also has a lesser view on the daemons, so seeing them as real, complicated people just like her is almost strange and she can't help but feel like it's all an act based on her upbringing and past. ( and yes, both sides tell a very different story as to how the war actually began and why it continued on (always blaming the other). both leaders on both sides (talking joong's father here) lied to their people about it. so, while the guys might now the true history of it, mc doesn't and it certainly plays into her feelings/thoughts about them.

and, you have no idea how excited i am for joong's mother. originally she was going to be dead and seoyun was going to be the one adding *spice* but then i had a better idea for seoyun and kind of gave her original personality to his mother and i think it'll be really fun to delve into it.

as always, thank you so much for your wonderful thoughts and feedback. i always love reading and discussing it all with you. once again, wishing you all the luck on your future endeavors! <33

#winnie speaks #mutuals

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Back again with questions. Only it’s about Mayans…as I said before I never returned after the s3 finale. I have bolded the questions because it somehow turned into a rant post as well.

1. Was Manny Montana being brought to Mayans worth it? OR was his addition a tactic to garner more attention back to the show?

With him being freed up from Good Girls, I keep thinking they brought Manny in because they know he can play someone who can fit into an outlaw role (ie Rio), but can also a lovable soft side (ie Johnny T). Ya’ll know I follow Manny from fan base to fan base, and love to see my guy booked & busy. But I’d hate to pick Mayans back up to find they’ve shoveled in a temporary character to avoid developing the old. My guess is he’s from the charter that showed up at the end of S3. So his character is probably just to fill in for S4 to distract us from the poor writing of S3. Probably won’t make it pass a season, kinda like how they used the prospect character for a bit and tossed him away in S3.

2. Do they ever focus on Miguel being Felipe’s child???

That storyline alone could have saved Mayans. I think Elgin could learn from “less is more.” I liked SOA and definitely noticed its faults BUT….You know our boy Kurt would have cut out all the extra “mini-shocking” storylines like Angel being a hoe (and disrespecting his momma’s memory by giving her ring to Nails), Coco’s trip to Meth Mountain (when he could have just been a father to Letty and adopt Mini), Ez and Gabby (Sutter would’ve had Ez pining for Em with them sharing some long lost love stares across town like Jax and Tara in S1), and Bishop’s dead son (I’m sorry but they could have used that screen time to develop Bish into a bad ass Prez. That “bad ass Prez” was implied when I just wanted to see Bishop fuck shit up). Used ALL that wasted screen time to develop Miguel into the central character opposite of Ez. How would this simple tactic develop a far more interesting plot than what we were served in S3? Miguel be the father of Adelita’s baby. Fuel source #1 to the fire in the ultimate brother show down. Angel has a reason to hate Miguel. Fuel source #2 to the ultimate brother show down? Miguel fathering another woman’s child…easy plug to push Emily back into Ez’s arms. Which would have given enough ammo to push the original premise of this being a battle between brothers….Fuel source #3 Miguel wouldn’t have chickened out of killing Emily. He would have had Miguel drown her. Not saying this because I don’t like her character. Just saying that Sutter knew one thing “less is more.” It takes a simple act to tip a characters motives and the plot. Prime example: Opie being killed lit a fire under Jax’s ass and started pushing him toward’s the main goal of Jax dying. If they had taken that route they could have easily killed two birds with one stone. Miguel would have finally “crossed the line” separating him from his father. They made big deal saying he wanted to be different from his dad, but in the next scene show he was a lot like the man he was running from. With Emily being dead Ez would have a motivation in the Miguel and Ez tension they pushed the entire first season, only to randomly leave it at the end of S1. My guess is instead, Elgin has Gabby killed because she was Ez’s love interest when I stopped the show. But if he did I as a viewer wouldn’t buy that as enough for Ez to tip like Jax did. He knew Gabby for what…a year??

3. Lastly, did Hank get away from Nails?

Male show runners love an age gap. I’m still salty they didn’t just give Miguel someone his age instead of someone as young as Emily. Danny Pino deserved better. I don’t know why they gave Hank that weak storyline of falling for a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. They should have given him an old lady his age. If you want to know what I miss about SOA…all the old heads had old ladies their age. Some Gemma’s and Luann’s would have sprinkled in our weekly spice of drama. You caught a glimpse of it with the shitstorms Dita was able to stir when she was alive. We needed some legit old ladies to save this plot man

4. Am I the only one who feels we were pitched an entirely different show than what we got?

I hate when shows deviate from the original plan. I came to Mayans the second I saw they added Danny Pino. Seeing him play detectives half his career let me know he was going to serve as Galindo (and he did all of season 1). Can’t believe this Danny Pino opportunity was wasted like that. I came for the deadly Galindo Cartel and poor writing served a half baked drug king pin and a MC that can’t get shit done because they spend all their time focusing on personal shit instead of securing the bag. For an MC that strives solely on the Galindo transactions, I didn’t see a brick of coke more than twice the entire three seasons I watched. Elgin tried to turn the Mayans plot into something poetic. Sir. People don’t watch shows like SOA for half baked poetry. We want you to stick to the outlaw shit. That other stuff?

#My guy should’ve learned from narcos #narcos was successful because they focused on the drugs not that other stuff #mayans mc

[florenceisfalling]

the villain/bad guy/enemy/abuser is a person! they are a person! you can call them demon/monster/devil/beast but evildoing is a uniquely human trait! father abused daughter, touched her and hurt her -> daughter abused me, touched me and hurt me. does the daughter being a victim make her less of a monster to you? does the daughter being an abuser make her less of a human to you? or was she just a person who did bad things because of her surroundings? she has a wife now and they are happy and do good things and charitable things and lovely things. if i had met her now we would be friends. would you call her demon/monster/devil/beast now, would you wish death/prison/abuse/karma upon her now? is once-a-bad-person always-a-bad-person? was she ever-a-bad-person? is there a such thing as a bad-person? or just a person?

much worse than stripping a person of their morals because they have done something unkind to you is stripping them of their personhood/complexity/motive/depth. you do not have to forgive the abuser but as soon as you assume upon yourself the right to make the abuser no longer human is the moment you fall into the cycle. you say you're a good person/hero/victim, you think you can't do anything wrong. you will do things wrong and you will become a self-fulfilled prophecy monster.

they say victim = soft/scared/small/shaky/sad, abuser = rough/proud/big/mean/cruel. they say you can't be mean & a victim, cruel & a victim, big & a victim. they say the person who abused you is not an abuser because he's too nice, he's too kind, he doesn't act like a demon/monster/devil/beast. this is what happens when we strip "bad people" of personhood til they are just "bad people." because people have sides/angles/souls/depth/hearts/complexity/feelings/soft spots/loved ones/memories that the demons/monsters/devils/beasts are not allowed to have or else we are romanticizing/endorsing/apologizing/glamorizing/supporting them.

and then victims/heroes/good people go around hurting others and denying it because- look at them! they are good! they have been hurt before so they automatically gain superiority like a martyr on a cross because suffering = value and victimhood = moral high-ground and pain = justification and good people = people who don't cannot do bad things

but if the villains/bad guys/enemies/abusers were killed/jailed/abused/brought the karma we all claim they deserved then poor victim/abuser/hero/monster/daughter would never have married her wife and had the chance to be good. how unfair for victims/heroes/"good people"/people who think their slate is clean/people who think they have the right to strip others of what makes them human/people who think they are the main characters in a life story that has very little to do with them/martyrs to appoint themselves gods on judgement day

#okay i am rereading this and i might have been very much medicated and sick while writing this in july but i was so right #!

[wwhatev3r]

Hi there! I've really been enjoying your playlists! So thanks for those. <3

How about relationship headcanons for Luz? Can be modern or wartime; I'm not particular. However, I would have lost my mind being a woman in the 40s. Lol. I am very independent. Little about me: 5'2 blonde, blue green eyes. I *think* I'm funny, like I love making people laugh anyway. I am lazy unless externally motivated. Introvert, but with the rare right people I open up. Love all animals (I have 8 pets, 4 different kinds of animal), music, the beach, Marvel movies & comics, Star Wars, theme parks. I have anxiety, but I'm decent at hiding it most of the time, inside I'm a fucking mess. Lol.

Oh, I've always wanted to do a big road cross country road trip (I'm in Florida) and like stop at all the dumb roadside attractions...like world's largest ball of string. Stuff like that. I think it's funny. So if you think it would be fun, you could do a road trip with Luz (or any of the other boys) headcanon.

Thanks for anything! Hope you're doing well! 😘

Ship Request | Having a Cross Country Road Trip with George Luz

Hello, hello! I loved the idea so much and I could not wait to write it. I decided to involve both the road trip and your ship request, so I  hope you like the headcanons of you having a road trip with our favorite boy, George Luz. And, I will do Road Trip Headcanons for every single one of the guys, so thank you so much for the idea. About the relationship headcanons for Luz, I am working on it! I promise.

Thank you so much for the compliments, it makes me really happy that you like the playlists :) | Oh,  and I am not going to give you a specific time period, it is up to you to imagine if It’s modern or in the 40s :)

Enjoy <3 | Gif Credit: @basilone

George was well aware of your wish to do a cross country road trip, so for your birthday he prepared everything and after a week you guys were on the road.

Just to be clear, George is the driver and you are the passenger, but expect this smart-ass still trying to read a map and failing successfully.

Don’t worry about music, this man is a radio. 

The trip will never be boring, you guys sing and tell histories all along the trip. 

You made him laugh once so much that he almost lost control of the steering wheel. 

I can see you guys stopping in a gas station because you needed to go to the bathroom and return to see George already talking and goofing around with strangers. 

You are way more introverted than George, and being in different places and strangers made you quite unsafe, which triggered your anxiety. 

You didn’t have to say anything about it, George sees immediately the way you move your leg, or how you look around. 

Don’t worry, he puts his arm around your waist and with a more soft spoken voice he says: 

“Hey hon, do you need anything else? Gentleman, we have to go back to the road, it was nice meeting ya.”

He instantly finishes the conversation with the strangers and guides you back to the car and provides you with the best snacks.

Btw, while you were in the bathroom, he bought you some comics just in case you got bored; (impossible tho.)

Along the road, you guys stopped in a beautiful place; was by the woods and was so peaceful that you had to spend the night there.

Was when you guys were about to sleep that you heard a meowing, so George looked around and eventually a kitten stepped out of the bushes and went to George.

Look, he just looked at you and he already knew exactly what was going to happen. 

“Fine, we can keep him,” he said, “I’m telling ya, we gotta start charging people to go to our house, it's turning into a zoo and I’m not ashamed of it.”

Back to the road again, George really wanted to stop by a beach, since he knew how much you loved it; that was his main mission. 

Eventually, when you got there he prepared a picnic, and after that you found some seashells while walking by the beach. 

Warning, he will splash you some water and then run.

But really, he did really enjoy comparing your eyes to the ocean and seeing how beautiful your golden hair was shining under the sunlight. 

By the end of the trip you guys definitely did some hiking and met the strangest people in the weirdest places. 

Like that one time you guys saw a man by the road with a lot of birds, or when George made friends with a group of hippies. 

You saw amazing places, met so many different people and towns, heard many histories and even faced some struggles along the road. 

When you got back home, George loved the trip so much that he immediately said: “I miss the car, let’s do it again. Oh, let’s travel Europe!” 

“George, sweetheart, we just got home.”

#band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers #easy company #george luz #ship requests #george luz x reader

[m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s]

okay, so @ahsokasleftbicep and i were talking about Crosshair the other day lol (r we surprised?) 😂 and this came out of that conversation! also, i’ve been really soft for my sniper lately, ya know, just being loving the softer side of my husband as of late, so that’s another reason (also, teeny, there is in fact a reference to “angel eyes” in here, yes i did do that, i will not stop listening to that song, nor will i stop watching the tiktok you sent me lol 😂). also, due to @loth-wolffe & @hellothere-generalangsty , who increased my softness tenfold, i felt like we needed cuddly, soft Cross.

and i have delivered.

also i have made some formatting changes! when i write my ideas up to begin with, their always tabbed, but tumblr thinks it’s funny to remove them (it’s not) so i have decided to put them back in (lol, literally tumblr is like: “mmm, no. yeah, no”).

also yeah, i did use the same nicknames because i loved the ones from the last fic too much, and i didn’t have the heart to change them, soooooo, this isn’t a part two, but i’ll probably just use the same nicknames from now on tho lol (if you wanna look at it as a part two tho, feel free, i just didn’t think of it that way when i wrote it)

once again, i do have a taglist, so just comment below if you would like to be added!

anyways, enjoy my goonies 🥰☺️❤️

}{

Crosshair x GN!Reader Drabble: He was always so soft and warm, just for you. Warmth in the arms around your waist, the kisses upon your face. You just melted. Everytime.

Genre: FLUFF, SO SOFT OMGGGG CAN’T EVEN TELL YOU (I’m just in a soft!ner ram’ser mood lately, also it’s like a tiny bit sad, but NOT A LOT I SWEAR, IF YOU SQUINT YOU CAN SEE IT)

Warnings: None. Happiness and love for my husband, that’s all.

Word Count: 951 words, 5,116 characters

*Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to the Star Wars universe, nor do I own anything relating to the Clone Wars universe. I do not own any characters, places, or things unless they are of my own creation.*

Picture is from @kamino-coruscant

(Proofread)

ner - my, mine

}{

Did you know you have a whole part of my heart? It’s got your name on it, and I cherish the feeling I get when I think about it. - Moons

}{

} Sleepy Smiles {

}{

It was soft lips on your nose that woke you. Warmth seeping into your skin, a butterfly of heat washed over the tender area. The sun should have woken you up, but something else did instead.

When you first opened your eyes, the typical blurry morning vision clouded your senses. It took a few more blinks before things started to look clearer. When you did, being met with the sight of him was unexpected.

It was welcome though.

He continued to pepper your nose with soft kisses, warm breath fanning over your cheeks. He moved slowly, delicately. It was your forehead next, and then your eyelids fluttered shut as he left an invisible mark on each one. Your chin and cheeks, the corners of your mouth.

It was rare when you got to see the soft, fuzzy side of him.

A soldier at heart, battle worn and scared. Physically and mentally. Times when he would be on shore leave, coming to your door in tears at the sights he saw on missions, the horrors. Dark under eye circles, and a plethora of toothpicks gone through as he silently cried into your shoulder.

Your heart would crush under the weight of his pain every time.

You made it go away. You let him cry into your shoulder, you, who took him for what he was in the present, for who he was at the very moment. You never shied away, never judged.

Instead you held your arms out, and wrapped yourself around him so tight that you took away every bad thing that had happened to him while he was gone.

It was the soft touch of lips on the shell of your ear that made a soft laugh from your mouth ring out into the air. You could feel the grin of his lips on your skin, and when he pulled back, well, stars.

He was so beautiful. The sun highlighted his cheekbones, softening the rough edge. Honeyed, angel eyes sparkling with a sense of peace, and a smile. A smile, one that made him look so young, not the war-hardened man you had seen just yesterday.

Oh, did he look happy.

When he leaned in, nuzzling his nose against yours, it took everything in your power right then and there to not cry at the warmth of his affection. The smile pulling at your lips was so wide that your cheeks began to hurt. You missed the way he grinned just as equally when you nuzzled his nose back.

His lips connected with yours. He always saved your lips for last. It was so euphoric, every time.

Rough, chapped lips danced with yours, but they were soft and feather light. Fluttery feelings skipping around in your chest.

The lips soon pulled away, air needed for lungs in separate chests. Eyes cracking open to find the soft gaze of him on you, and a lazy grin on his cheeks.

“Mornin’, ner Sunshine.”

Maker, did his morning voice sound so wonderful.

“Good morning to you too, Butterfly.”

He grinned even wider at the nickname, fighting the urge to smother your face in kisses all over again. Instead, he settled to lay back down beside you, only to pull you right up into his arms. Cradled into his warmth, nose snuggling into his neck, head nestling into the crook of his shoulder. More feather light kisses pressed softly to your temple.

“Cross.”

You were met with a hum, grumbly and tired.

“We have to get up, you know that.”

Another hum, mumbled words as he only pulled you closer. You only smiled into his neck as he let his fingers rub up and down your back softly.

“No, it’s cuddle time.” You laughed at the confession, pulling back to see a soft look in his eyes. One you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, so it’s cuddle time now? You just like to change your schedule at the last minute?”

He chuckled, the rasp of his voice still thick with sleep.

“Only for you.”

It faltered you for a second. Behind it, those three words held a deeper meaning. One you could analyze, look at from different angles.

Crosshair had… trouble when it came to communicating. Especially when it came to the emotional depth that a relationship reached. You had helped him, teaching him to show emotion. Letting him know emotion was good, it was not a bad thing. He was still working, trying everyday to realize that working through his emotions with you was good for him.

When he would admit things, late in the evening, or early in the morning as he just had, it was his way of telling you all the things he couldn’t quite voice yet.

Only for you, my sweet love. I would give the world to spend every waking moment with you, to leave the wretched war, to hold you in my arms each day. Only for you.

You only gave him a look in return, one that you hoped showed your love that ran so deep into the veins of your beating heart.

Intertwined, you laid back onto his chest, content. No interruptions, no war here. Just two lovers snuggled close, held in the embrace of the other.

As the sun rose, you would still lay there. He would still press the occasional kiss to your forehead, and a quiet whisper of some topic would be said. A hum and another kiss, one on the lobe of your ear.

Love was… complicated at times, but when he held you as tight as he did, nothing but pure adoration surrounding you?

Maybe you could just lay here for a little while longer.

}{

taglist: @loth-wolffe @dreamingofclones @ahsokasleftbicep @hellothere-generalangsty @and-claudia @monako-jinn-stories @teletraan-meets-jarvis

#ALSO YEAH TO YOU TEENY WOLFFE AND GENERAL ANGSTY #YOU WERE THE MAIN MOTIVATION FOR THIS BECAUSE WE JUST ALL LIKE SOFT CROSS #LOVE YALL #YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME #anyways… #also wrote a very vulnerable cross in this #and i’m obsessed #lol i dont really specify when this takes place do i? #it doesn’t matter #i love soft cross too much to care #star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x reader #soft!crosshair hours to be more specific #soft!crosshair #domestic!crosshair #ram’ser husband #moony’s writing

[babyboibucky]

Obvious

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are more than friends but less than lovers.

Word Count: 1,700

Warnings: slight angst??? mention of injury???

A/N: Inspired by Ariana Grande’s “obvious” because I fucking love that song lmfao. Let me know if anyone wants to be included in my Bucky Barnes tag list! Will do separate tag lists for everything Bucky and Babysitting Bucky. Feedback is highly appreciated!

MAIN MASTERLIST

---

You and Bucky weren’t lovers, no. But you were definitely not just friends either.

There were kisses early in the morning, while both of you were cuddled in bed basking in the warmth of the sunlight spilling through the thin curtains; soft and subtle touches in the afternoon as the two of you navigated through the kitchen in an attempt to bake together. Slow touches late at night, cold metal fingers grazing you in just the right places that made you feel like on fire. And the exchange of whispers in the wee hours of night after coming down from the high of exploring each other’s bodies, uttered so softly, words meant only for each other to hear.

More than friends indeed, less than lovers? Maybe. Maybe not. Does it matter though? Because even without the words of affirmation, you loved Bucky and was sure that he loved you just as much.

Besides, you were obviously head over heels for the soldier. Not that you were denying or hiding it, in fact, you felt like you showed it a tad bit too much.

“Leaving so soon, soldier?” You’d asked with a pout as you watched Bucky leave your side on the bed.

“Duty calls.” He told you as he began to dress up.

Noticing your frown, he chuckled and approached you on the bed, bending down to press a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He reassured you, smoothening out the crease on your forehead with his thumb.

“But I wanna cook you dinner.” You told him.

The thought of you and Bucky spending a domesticated evening together always elated you. You loved daydreaming about it, about sharing a life with your super soldier. Him coming home after a mission and you making sure to take good care of him. Maybe run him a bath while you prepared dinner. Silly, it seemed but you couldn’t help imagining all the possibilities with Bucky. Letting him sleep in on Sundays while you go on a jog, only to come back home with pancakes and bacons waiting for you in the kitchen. And Bucky of course, fresh out of bed with his hair sticking up in different directions.

Being with an Avenger of course, made it difficult to experience all these things. Sometimes you’d wake up alone but Bucky always made sure to leave you a little note.

I’ll be back soon, beautiful.

His notes found a home in one of your drawers. There were plenty and although these notes symbolized his absence on most days, they also meant promises. Promises to make it up for the lost time, promises that were never broken nor forgotten.

Dinner dates were often postponed, sleepovers a rare occurrence— spending time together in general, wasn’t as easy as it was for other couples out there.

But that’s okay. Because you’d always wait for Bucky. You’d wait for him to come home and even if it’d take him three days, one week, two months or even a year, you’d still wait and welcome him with hugs and kisses and affectionate whispers.

Sometimes you wondered whether Bucky knew how much you loved him.

Disagreements were of course, unavoidable even between you and Bucky. Oftentimes, the arguments would stem from his carelessness and selfless decisions during missions. Your super soldier, always so giving and generous and kind. You couldn’t care less about what others thought of him and his days under the influence of monsters. The moment you knew you loved Bucky, you had already accepted him. And that included his demons and dark days too.

To you, Bucky had always been kind and put others first before himself. Sometimes a little too much that you couldn’t help but feel hurt that he didn’t seem to care how you’d feel if ever he wouldn’t make it home.

If Sam hadn’t called you that night, you wouldn’t have known about the serious injury inflicted on Bucky while on a mission.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked as soon as you barged into the medical bay, ignoring the nurse who immediately scrambled out of the room.

Bucky laid in bed, bruised and wrecked and unable to respond upon seeing you seething with anger for the first time ever.

“Were you even planning to tell me in the first place?” You scoffed.

They needed to infiltrate another Hydra base. Raid the base, get all possible information and blow it up to ashes. But then Bucky found a secret basement at the very last minute, young women and men were kept— future Winter Soldiers. The serum hadn’t been injected into their systems yet, they were merely poor teenagers in captivity. Bucky knew he couldn’t let these young people suffer the same fate as him. With barely a minute left before the bomb was set to explode, Bucky did his best to save everyone in that basement.

Never mind the Falcon’s orders to abort his mission, never mind the back-up they had called for to help them out. Bucky knew the choices he had: walk away unscathed knowing that the back-up wouldn’t arrive in time to save the children, or stay behind and do his best to make sure that no one will become another toy for Hydra to play with.

Even if it meant risking his life, even if it meant leaving you back home unaware of his fate.

“They needed me. I couldn’t just leave them behind.” Bucky explained.

“And you didn’t think I needed you too?” You asked, eyes rimmed with tears.

God, you knew you were selfish for feeling hurt but you couldn’t help it. Did it not cross Bucky’s mind that if he had died, you’d be left behind too? Did you not cross his mind during that time?

“Look, I understand what the superhero life is all about. And I know that it’s fucking selfish of me to say this but...Bucky, I need you too. As much as the world does.”

It was a conversation that you and Bucky had many times now. But with how your love grew for him with each passing second, the thought of losing him, it had become too much for you to suppress.

Waking up without his little notes of reassurance that he’d be back soon, no more cold fingers tracing against the smooth expanse of your skin and having to sleep knowing that the next day, Bucky wouldn’t be there anymore— just the mere thought of losing him broke your heart.

“I can’t...” you breathed out, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Buck.” You admitted with a shaky sigh as your tears continued to fall.

Bucky wanted to get up and pull you to an embrace, but he was too injured to do so. How we wanted to kiss your tears away, all he could do was extend a hand towards you, inviting you to come closer and touch him.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I should have told you, I’m sorry. C’mere.”

Despite your anger, you didn’t think twice and immediately went to hold Bucky’s hand, squeezing it tightly as if you were trying to make sure that he was fine and real and that you didn’t lose him.

“Please stop being so reckless. With how much I love you, it drives me crazy whenever you come home all wounded and bloody and now—“

“You love me?”

Bucky had asked the question as if he couldn’t believe that yes, you do love him. Sam really wasn’t kidding when he said how dense Bucky was.

“Is it not obvious?” You asked, wiping away your tears.

“I mean yeah but...I just didn’t want to assume that you do because we never really talked about it.” He explained, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

His metal fingers, although cold and hard against your skin, had always been your favorite. They were gentle when they needed to be, or at least whenever Bucky touched you. They were cold and made you shiver but always in a good way.

“Bucky, I’ve talked about wanting a future with you. You still didn’t think that that was love?” There was a hint of playfulness in your tone despite your deadpan expression.

Oh no, what if you interpreted everything the wrong way?

“Do you not...oh my god, Bucky am I the only one in love?” You asked, panicked.

“Oh god, no.” Bucky immediately clarified as he pulled you to sit down on the bed beside him.

“I love you. So much. Please don’t think otherwise.” He said, cupping your face and wiping away the remnants of your tears.

A smile followed by a quick peck on the lips. Bucky moved and gave you enough space to lay down beside him on the hospital bed. Suddenly, everything felt right. Not that it wasn’t before but with the both of you finally uttering those words, it felt different.

The perfect kind of different.

You laid your head against Bucky’s chest and listened to his heartbeat as his hand rubbed comforting circles on your back. You can’t imagine a life without being this close to him, your super soldier.

“I thought of you, you know.” His chest rumbled as he spoke.

You lifted your head up to look at him in confusion. He smiled at you lovingly, “During the mission. Every mission I go to actually, I thought of you.”

Bucky thought about how you always waited for his return no matter how long he took. He imagined what you’d be doing when he’d come back, would you still be asleep? Perhaps you’d be in the shower, singing. Bucky thought about how he’d kiss you as soon as he comes home, how he’d make you feel how much he missed you and your scent, how your smooth skin felt against his.

Every single time, Bucky thought about coming home to you. It was his motivation to stay alive no matter what. He knew you needed him as much as the world does.

Because he needed you just the same.

More than friends, indeed. Less than lovers? No, you and Bucky were more than that.

You were each other’s worlds.

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #sebastian stan

[deleteddewewted]

Virgin! Shinsou Oneshot: First Blowjob

Shinsou x F!Reader

Minors DNI

(Apparently I’m just making Shinsou my main thing now. Im planning on expanding into other characters I promise!) But for now:

You and Shinsou are just friends. You both watch movies together on Fridays, you go out to eat every other week, babysit Eri when Aizawa is off at work. You're pretty much the perfect duo.

One day Shinsou finds out you’ve been fucking Bakugo (You offered to fuck Bakugo once and he asked to try pegging thinking that this was a one time thing. He could live knowing that he asked you to do this for him since you’ve always been so chill and private. Let’s say that Bakugos “one time” became multiple. He loved getting fucked by you.) Shinsou didn’t care that you were with other people, he isn’t your boyfriend (yet) so he can’t demand anything from you. That doesn’t mean his curiosity isn’t peaked.

When you two where walking to your next class for the day, Shinsou leans a bit closer to you and whispers, “Hey, so you know how I don’t really have all that much... experience, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I wanted to ask what a blowjob was.” You didn’t know if he was joking or not. He was great at keeping his face neutral but his skin complexion always betrayed him. He was incredibly red when you took your time to answer.

“Oh, and would you like to figure it out now or later?” Confused Shinsou shrugs his shoulder not understanding your question.

“Now? I did ask you right now and hearing it later would be a bit strange. It would also be a waste of time.”

“Alright, come with me.” You immediately drag him to an empty janitors closet (how do you know this, he’ll have to ask you.)

With that you shove him inside and in the cramped space push him to lean back on the closet wall the door closing once you two for inside.

"What?-"

"Shhhh shhhh, im showing you what a blowjob is. Do you want to continue?" Shinsou's whole face is red, you worried if he was going to pass out.

"yes...please." That was all you needed to get down on your knees and start to unbuckle his pants. Gasping and shaking a little, Shinsou was so nervous. This was his first blowjob and it was coming from you, his best friend. He couldn't wait.

You finally got his dick out of his pants and wow, he's hung. Heavy and full, you jumped on to the chance to suck it. Shinsou bucks his hips a bit, pre cum coming out in small drops hitting your tongue.

“Aaaah- uh...” Poor boy, he’s gasping just by being inside your mouth. That adorable flushed out face was too much, you want to make him cum his brains out.

The noise of students walking to their next class slowly fade as you suck and lavish his cock. Shinsou tries to stop his moaning with his hands but it doesn’t work, it’s too good. So good in fact that he starts fucking your face without knowing it.

“God, please~ah...ooooh more~! More, please make me cum, please~!” You grip his hips to make him stop, he whines at the lost friction. You pop off his cock to look up and smirk as you stroke him.

“You want to cum, baby~? How badly, hmm?”

“A lot, please, please, ple-please. I want your mouth back on me. Please make me cum!” Shinsou looks like he’s about to cry. His eyes are all glazed over with a trembling lip out of pure bliss. He was so pretty like this. So why not tease him a little.

You grab his hard cock and slap it lightly against your cheek, sticking out your tongue so he can feel the warm wet muscle graze his throbbing head.

“I’m not sure, it doesn’t look like you want it. Maybe we should stop and try another day?” That got a reaction out of him. He quickly tries to straighten up but his legs wobble out beneath him.

"NOOoo~! Y/n please don't be mean, please make me cum!" Shinsou's needy and panicked voice sends a sadistic shiver up you're spine. You've lost your patience, you need to see him cry his pretty head over how good your mouth feels.

You furiously start to suck, having his dick hit the back of your throat over and over again (Damn bitch, you deepthroating him and taking it like a champ.) Shinsou again starts to fuck your face and this time he won't and couldn't stop. His sweet noises giving you motivation to keep going. Out of curiosity you start running your fingers under his balls and to his ass.

"what?~" He doesn't hate the feeling of your hand and fingers touching him there, he kind of wants more but he doesn't know what more would be. You see the way his legs shakes and chest rattled, so when you see him take this eyes off of you for a moment, you strike. You pushed your fingers inside of him and slowly start fingering him.

Shinsou's eyes crossed and he tries, he truly does try, to uncross them but he cant. It's to good, your warm mouth and tongue taking his dick in while your fingers hit just the right spot inside of him. He thinks he's fallen even more in love with you. You finally bring up the pace and he can't take it. He cum's hard in your mouth and all you can do is swallow the salty liquid that was practically forced down your throat. You continue to finger him and suck him till he's empty. Once he's done and now getting closer to overstimulating him, you come off of him with a light pop and a quick lick to his tip that sends his legs buckling under him. You slowly pull out your fingers out of his ass and kiss his length as you smile up at him.

"You good, baby?" His eyes are still crossed but this time with tear tracks coming down his face with saliva coming out of his mouth. He's completely out of it, all because of a 5 minute blowjob you gave him....in a janitors closet.

He doesn't verbally replied but he did nod as you tucked him back inside his boxer and pants. You get up from your place on the floor and place your hand on the side of his face, cupping his face. Shinsou leans into the soft touch and purrs. He fucking purrs! He's so cute, you swear that he has to be part cat. He's so deep in his own mind that he doesn't realize he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you flushed against his chest. He breaths in your scent and hums happily. God you're perfect to him. He wants more sexually but he also wants to just to do this, hold you in his arms and forget about the rest of the world.

"We should get out this cramped space. It's not good for your back to be arched like that for to long." Shinsou doesn't answer to your concern but he straightens up and kisses the top of your head.

After a few minutes Shinsou finally regains some function when it comes to his speech and he tells you that he felt amazing.

"Thank you, that was...great. Thanks for showing me."

"You're welcome! Do you want to go to class?"

"Nah, lets go back to your place, i feel tired." You both check each other for... you know...stains. You grab your things, and head out of the closet. To think that he got a blowjob from genuinely not knowing what a blowjob was. He was such a lucky motherfucker.

"Hey, Shinsou. You good?"

"Yeah, im great y/n." Shinsou will never tell you this but he's been dreaming for the past few days about that little adventure in the janitors closet. He's actually jerked off to the memory more than once (10 times in the span of a day. He was painfully turned on, but can you judge him?)

"Your face is getting red."

"Oh, yeah. Im just... thinking about something that happened in high school."

"Cool man!"

"Yeeeaah." He's so fucked. He absolutely wants more with you.

Literally had a dream about this exact scenario but it was in an apartment where he was up against a wall while getting a blowjob, not in a closet.

#bnha #mha #mha shinsou #shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #dom reader #sub character #sub shinsou #sub shinso

[just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh]

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

#teenwolf #teen #wolf #teenwolf X reader #Teenwolfmtv #teenwolf fandom #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #derek hale #derek hale fanfiction #Derek imagine #Derek hale fanfic #derekxreader #Imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #wolfpack #tyler hoechlin #tyler #hoechlin #Derek #hale

[peachy-panic]

“Look at me.”

Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.

POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.

I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:

@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain

And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.

Without further ado.

PROMPT: “Look at me.”

WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!

He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house. 

When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area. 

At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds. 

Until now. 

Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.

There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end. 

In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.

“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm. 

“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”

Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice. 

The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.

When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.

Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that. 

“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.

He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice. 

“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist. 

The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit. 

So he does. 

Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.

All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones. 

Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck. 

“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.

Jaime’s blood runs cold. 

You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this. 

Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.

It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.

“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”

His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids -  leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet. 

“I asked you a question.”

“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper. 

It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy. 

The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

He doesn’t want this.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.

But this isn’t allowed.

His Keeper is happy.

Please, please stop touching me.

He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.

Please don’t make me do this.

His keeper is smiling.

“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”

Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.

“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds. 

There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it. 

He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.

He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.

Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.

Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him. 

But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.

“Look at me.” 

For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right. 

Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.

#whumpmasinjuly #whump #tw: noncon #bbu #kind of #like bbu adjacent? #further exploration to come if i can manage to keep posting #Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #Jaime #Mr. Torley

[strwbsgirl]

niki lauda headcannons x PA! reader headcannons

being anywhere around niki is a whirlwind, be honest do we think he is a gentlemen? no, obviously not. but being his personal assistant meant more to him than anything. he lacked compassion, his main focus was winning. 

sometimes he could be terribly rude, off putting, cocky, any word that had a negative connotation could be used for this man right here. he barks orders, demands the spotlight, and constantly cracks ill-fitting jokes in your vicinity whether it be about his opponents or about you. man had a wicked sense of humor. 

night before his big race, he would be wound up, angry about the idea of him losing, a giant bundle of nerves and pent up rage thinking about anything he has failed at. he would demand you only in his room, sitting in the corner as he paces across the suite. “fuck!’ he mumbles, hands tugging at the ends of his hair. visible distraught spread across his face. “is there anything i can get for you, mr. lauda?” you asked, crossing your legs and sitting up straight, not trying to further upset the wound up man. 

“please, just.. sit there, and fuck, i don’t know do something useful!” he barked orders at you like you were the child in this situation. you knew this was simply because of tomorrows events, he was just being an extra asshole, he always was before big things. “you, sit down on the bed, stop pacing you’re stressing me out. you don’t want me stressed out either, lauda.” you barked back, pointing in his direction to lead him to the bed. 

his face taught, cocking an eyebrow at you before slowly moving to follow your orders. “i don’t understand what this is supposed to do! i’m still stressed out.” he crosses his arms, shaking his head in a. childlike way, throwing a hissy fit. after dusting off your lap, and striding over to his side, you sat down beside the childlike man, grabbing his hands in yours, “just close your eyes, and calm down. breathe.” he kept up his angry facade before relinquishing all power to you. 

you spoke softly to him, guiding him through a meditative state, letting one hand rise to his cheek, stroking it softly with your thumb. “it will be fine, you are so amazing, you have nothing to worry about, darling.” he hums into your hand, feeling the flood of anxiety leaving his body slowly. his eyes remained closed as yours studied the man, taking in his distinct features. “i’m gonna fuck that guy up. he will go home and cry to his mother.” 

shaking your head you lightly slapped his cheek, “no negativity. stop that. you can uplift yourself without putting someone down, lauda.” a slight smirk appearing on his face, “do that again.” his lips left in a partition, awaiting for your reaction. “smack you?” you asked, almost sarcastically. “do it again.” he demands, sitting up straight before opening his eyes, looking at you with his puppy dog eyes. 

you shook your head, laughing off his advancements before slightly scooting away, not sure of his intentions or motives, but intrigued by what he meant by smack me. 

his hands found their way to your hips before straddling upon you above the bed, leaning in close towards your lips before mumbling a quick, “i think we can figure a better way to relieve stress.. yeah?” he smirked, pressing his lips against the side fo your neck before attacking it with soft bites. “i.. i mean, it could.. work..” you stuttered out, shocked at his sudden advancements. “but,” you interjected, “it would be a lot more fun if you left me take care of you..” whispering, a soft smirk appearing on his face before nodding, rolling himself over before pulling you by your belt loops on top of his lap. 

#madison’s masterlist #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda #baron zemo x reader #Helmut zero x reader #niki lauda x you #niki lauda x y/n #avengers #marvel

[masterjedilenawrites]

What about a reader that is drunk, going to do some nonsense, so both Tech and Crosshair stop her, and in the next day there’s a climate btween them? Pretty please 🥺

I wasn't sure what you meant by the last part of your request so I just let the scene play out in what felt like a natural direction, I hope that's okay! I'm happy to write something else if you'd like!

Tech & Crosshair & Reader | 1.8k words

You tried to hold back your giggles as you gathered up as many helmets as you possibly could. This was going to be great. You couldn't believe you hadn't thought of this before, it was probably one of the best ideas you'd ever had in your life. Your whole body seemed to shake with excitement. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. Nah... you hadn't had that much to drink. This was a genuinely good, smart idea.

You stumbled out of the closet and down the hallway, dropping a few helmets along the way but not even noticing. It was like the edges of your vision were out of focus but surely that was just the dim lighting of 79's. It'd always been hard to see in here.

"What are doing?"

The voice came out of no where, even thought its owner was practically standing right in front of you. Arms crossed, scowl on his face, eyes studying you as you juggled a half dozen clone trooper helmets in your arms for seemingly no reason.

"Back off, Crosshair," you slurred, trying to push past him quickly. Why was he always in your business?

The sniper was too quick for you even on your good days. He took hold of your arm and pulled you back before you entered the main bar area, keeping you in the relative privacy of the hallway.

"Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he rephrased his question.

"It's not stealing, it's a prank," you protested, trying and failing to get your arm out of his grasp. Another helmet tumbled to the floor in the effort.

"Oh there you are," came a new voice. It was almost as if you were moving in slow motion as you tore your gaze from Crosshair and over at the newcomer.

"Tech, tell this jerk to get out of my way," you thought you said. But whatever actually came out was apparently not as understandable. Tech looked between you and Crosshair, confused.

"Um, okay. Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he asked the same question as his brother.

As if on queue, another helmet slipped out of your grasp, though you hadn't moved. At least, you didn't think you did. You huffed and ignored Tech's question, turning back to Crosshair with pleading eyes. Both men were standing between you and your chance to pull one over on the 501st, a battalion infamous for their clever pranks. And you were not going to be stopped.

"Come on Cross," you drawled. "I'm pranking the regs, you should be proud."

Even through your crazed senses, you were still able to pick up the amused twitch of his lips. But he quickly suppressed it and turned back to his usual grouchy grimace.

"Normally I would," he said, "but not like this. Not tonight."

He took a pair of helmets from you and handed them over to Tech, ignoring your whiny sounds of protest.

"He's right," said Tech, placing the helmets on the floor in the corner. "Wrecker already upset some of them tonight, I don't think they'd find this very humorous. Besides, in your drunken state..."

"I'm not drunk!" you exclaimed, probably louder than you intended judging by the flinch both men gave in response.

"Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bloodshot," said Tech matter-of-factly.

"And I saw exactly how many drinks you had," added Crosshair.

Tech nodded at him. "Yes, we could go on, but that should be indication enough that..."

You cut him off again, this time with tears. You couldn't help it. The whine that had almost been perpetually eking out of you during this whole conversation grew into actual cries and whimpers. Before you knew it, your cheeks were wet and your lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You're both so mean, you never let me have fun, the one time I come up with a great idea and you shoot it down like I'm an idiot, it's not fair, all I wanted was to show you that I belong here with you guys, but none of you let me, you don't care about me at all, you're such fun-busters..."

You babbled on and on, only barely making any sense to the two men who'd now freed you from your armful of stolen helmets and were gently guiding you out of the bar. You clunked along between them like a baby learning to walk for the first time, unaware of where you were going or what was happening. You could only focus on your emotional speech, and then after a few minutes, your focus was redirected to the queasy feeling in your stomach.

Thankfully the boys got you back onto the Havoc and into the refresher before you spilled your guts. Crosshair held your hair back and rubbed a hand soothingly along your spine until the worst of it passed. You fell limp next to the toilet, unable to form any coherent thoughts in the aftermath.

"Come on," Crosshair said softly by your ear. He tried pulling you up, but when it was clear you weren't going to stand on your own, he picked you up altogether and carried you over the to bunks.

Tech had pulled out one of the cots, the one everyone on the ship agreed was more comfortable than the others and thus fought over the right for almost every night. He had it set up with blankets and pillows, and he stood nearby holding a bottle of water as Crosshair laid you down.

"Just small sips for now," Tech said, holding the bottle up to your lips and helping you get down a few quick swallows, enough to calm the burning in the back of your throat. You were vaguely aware of his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your earlier tantrum from your eyes.

"Fun-busters," you muttered before curling up on your side.

Tech looked over at his brother, who only rolled his eyes at your stubbornness.

"Good-night to you, too," he said just before you lost consciousness.

* * *

The next morning was... rough, to say the least. You'd been tipsy a few times in your life, but never full-on drunk, which meant you'd also never had to deal with a full-on hangover.

Your head was splitting open, you were sure of it. Every turn of your neck made you feel sick. There was a pressure behind your eyes and a lightness to your stomach. You wanted to stay in bed forever. But even more painful than your hangover symptoms were the memories of your behavior the night before, and the urge to make amends eventually propelled you to get up.

You found Tech first, fiddling with his holopad in the cockpit. He eyed you as you carefully lowered yourself in the chair next to his, keeping a hand up to shield your eyes from the rays of morning sunlight that crept through the windows.

"I'm sorry," you said in a low, raspy voice, getting right to the point. You knew Tech appreciated when people did that. He wasn't a fan of small talk and segues, not when there was clearly something important to discuss. "I was kind of a dumbass last night, wasn't I?"

Tech set down his holopad with a shrug. "You had too much to drink. You weren't in control of your mental faculties."

You smiled at his uncomplicated way of viewing things. But then came a cough from behind, from a particularly unamused sniper leaning against the doorway.

"You were a dumbass," he said just as plainly as his brother. Well, at least they were both honest, even if it was in contrast to each other.

"I'm surprised you remember," said Tech, quickly trying to move past his brother's more negative comment. "From what I've read, memory loss is common after heavy intoxication...."

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as it made your head ring. "I don't remember a lot, just enough to be embarrassed. If I said anything nasty to either of you, I really didn't mean it, I swear. I was just...."

You trailed off, not sure what it was you were really trying to do. You'd wanted to pull a prank, but there'd been something else driving you forward, some other motive to want to do something so stupid.

"You called us fun-busters and cried because you didn't think we cared about you," said Crosshair through the customary toothpick in his mouth.

You looked at Tech, who gave you an apologetic look that confirmed his brother's words were true. You let out a little groan and slumped into the chair. A part of you was glad you didn't fully remember.

"Do you really think that?" Tech asked. "That you don't belong here?"

You shrugged. You still weren't sure about your feelings.

"I dunno... I guess, maybe sometimes... it does feel like you treat me the way you do the regs." You spoke slowly, discovering your own thoughts as you said the words. "Like I'm just along for the ride. Just a normal person who doesn't matter. I thought if I did something to them, you'd see I wasn't part of them. At least, that's what my drunk alter ego thought, anyway."

You gave another shrug and tried for a laugh but it didn't feel quite right.

Tech looked thoughtful for a moment. "You do realize most of the regs in that club were inebriated, too. But we didn't carry any of them to bed for the night."

"Or watch as they puked their guts out," added Crosshair with a slight wrinkling of his nose.

"Yes," Tech nodded at you. "We knew you've been feeling down lately, that's why Hunter suggested we all go to that bar in the first place, to give you a chance to have some fun. Crosshair and I kept an eye on you, and Hunter and Wrecker made sure those regs didn't get upset over your, ah, attempt at a prank."

Tech let his words linger for a moment as you finally raised your throbbing eyes up to meet his.

"You belong here. And we do care. We care because, well..."

He looked over at his brother and you followed his gaze. Crosshair took out his toothpick and pointed it at you.

"Because we're your family."

He put the toothpick back in his mouth with a wink and then turned to leave, showing that that was the final word on the subject. Tech looked at you with a soft smile, one that made you finally feel at peace. You hummed as you laid back against the chair and let the feeling really take hold within you.

You belonged with the Bad Batch. They were your family.

It was a very nice feeling.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the bad batch #tech #crosshair #tech & crosshair #tech & reader #crosshair & reader #my easy breezy beautiful nerd boy #my emotional support grumpy toothpick man #cw: alcohol

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 12

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a     desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it? Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

--

Chapter 12: Called In Favors

< | Previous Chapter The weeks had blurred together once you had properly settled into your new home. Your days were spent often either reading something you found in the library that wasn't at your castle, or training with Techno. The training had been rough on you, horribly so. Bruises were blooming all over your body, especially your back. Despite getting better on your feet and with your response time to Techno, he never failed to knock you down at least a dozen times before calling it a day. It was frustrating, but definitely served to motivate you.

The boys had taken to watching you sometimes, with Tommy and Tubbo cheering you on. Wilbur would sometimes call out advice from the sidelines, and it was something you were thankful for. Beyond the training, you often met with Eret to go over wedding plans. The two of you had grown extremely close over the weeks, swapping stories as he fussed over your dress. You appreciated his friendship like no other, extremely content to have made a proper friend.

The wedding was only a couple of days away now, and you were giddily pacing around Eret. He laughed at you, moving to grab your arm to stop you. “Relax, pacing isn’t going to make them show up any sooner,” He murmured, and you couldn’t help the impatient way you twirled.

“I know. I just miss them and want them to hurry up,” You practically whined, toying with the sleeves of your dress. Dream and George were supposed to be showing up today, and staying for about a week. Excitement coursed through you the moment you had woken up, the excitement blatantly clear in your eyes.

“You miss them, don’t you?” He gave you a soft look and smile, letting go of your arm to let you pace again. 

“Always. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, but I still miss them. George is my brother, I naturally miss his guidance. Dream is my partner in crime, we’ve always been joined at the hip. I feel lost without him by my side.” You paused by the window, peering out at the courtyard. Tubbo and Tommy were squaring off, pointing swords at each other. It was always interesting to watch them fight, how seriously they could take it, swinging as if they had the intent to take a limb off each other. Only to turn around a few moments later and tackle the other and laugh, as if they weren’t practically at each other's throat. It was endearing in a sweet way.

“I see. I suppose your restlessness would make sense, then.” He wandered over to stand beside you, watching Tommy and Tubbo as well. The two swung their swords at one another, practically anticipating one another’s movements. You yearned to have the added danger of sharp objects in your training. While you did enjoy the hand-to-hand, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as what you were watching.

“Do you think Techno will let me fight with my dagger any time soon?” You mused, turning to look at Eret. He hummed, shrugging slightly.

“He’s probably going to try and make sure your hand-to-hand is nearly perfect before he lets you actively touch your dagger.” You pouted at that, huffing a little.

“That’s boring, it gets so repetitive. Not that it isn’t useful, of course it is. I was just hoping to learn to use a weapon much sooner.” You grumbled, moving away from the window. The ballroom had most of its decorations up, leading to it feeling like a completely different place. You ran your fingers along the table, tracing the grain on the wood.

“It’s good if you’re finding it repetitive. He might actually let you use your dagger soon. Ask him about it later,” Eret laughed, following behind you. As he did, you could hear Tommy yell obscenities at Tubbo, making you shake your head. Loud as ever.

“He better. Wonder if he’ll let me show off for Dream and George.” You gave a crooked grin. You could already imagine the frustration on their faces as you trained. Your training sessions were nearly daily anyways, and you hoped that Techno didn’t choose today of all days for a day off. You really wanted to show off and make it known that you could hold yourself in a battle. Especially with Techno.

“He’s cocky when it comes to his fighting, he’ll want to show off. You won’t even have to ask him.” You couldn’t help but grin at that, eyes alight. Good. You really wanted to be able to see how the two would react. You had a rough feeling on how Dream would react, but you really wanted to see if he would be proud after all of it was said and done. After all, learning to fight from literally nothing wasn’t a small task.

“Good! That’s all I ask for the time being. I’ll ask about my dagger later, then.” Eret only gave you an amused look, watching you return to wandering around the room. You were just incredibly eager to see your brother again. Even though it was for your wedding, a thought that had your stomach flipping. You still had trouble picturing it as your own wedding, despite the fact you had helped through every single step of it.

“It’ll probably have to wait until after your marriage. It’s already bad enough you’re all bruised up before the wedding, we don’t need any cuts showing up,” Eret teased and you huffed, acutely aware of how it would look. Neither George nor Dream would be pleased about the bruises on your forearms from blocking hits from Techno. Not that you cared too much what they thought about them. You were happy that they were there because it meant you were learning. You were improving on top of it, too. You had to be.

“I suppose I can be okay with that. After the wedding I better be using my dagger, or Techno is gonna have a few problems.” You settled your hands on your hips, puffing out your chest.

“Somehow I doubt you could give him very many problems.” Eret’s laugh was contagious, easily breaking through your initial pout.

“Maybe I could, you don’t know!” You wandered to stand beside him, peering as he messed with some of the decorations, making sure they sat as he wanted. “Do we need to do a final dress fitting?”

“No, the only thing you need to do is take it easy and prepare yourself for your wedding tomorrow.” Eret reached over, patting your shoulder. You huffed. You had been antsy the entire time, wanting to make sure everything was perfect. While it was an arranged marriage, it was still your one and only wedding. You were going to make sure things were perfect for it. As much as you could, anyways.

“That means do nothing until George and Dream get here. Who knows when that’ll be,” You whined, dramatically leaning against him. He laughed, head shaking.

“Realistically? Anytime soon. Didn’t the prince say they were planning to leave early morning?” You nodded at the question, craning your head towards the main hall. They would be arriving soon, and it caused excited butterflies to swirl around your stomach. Eret noticed, pushing you gently towards the door. “Go wait for them before you wear a path into the floor.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, grinning thankfully at your friend as you took off towards the door. The morning sun beat down on the ground outside, and you giddily went to the same spot Philza, Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur had stood for your arrival. You rocked back and forth on your heels, staring down the stone path expectantly. As if they would appear if you so much as blinked.

“You seem excited,” A voice mused from beside you. You yelped in surprise, jumping a little. Techno stood beside you, looking down in amusement at you. When the hell had he snuck up on you? Were you really that focused on Dream and George’s arrival?

“I am, I missed them,” you replied, turning your gaze towards the path again. A fond smile was painted on your face, eyes bright with excitement.

“They should be here soon. The carriage was seen pulling into the capital not too long ago.” The words only fuelled your excitement, and it took everything in you to not start pacing again. You really were restless with the excitement, the movement felt like the only way to expel it. Other than being able to hug George properly. You simply continued to rock on your heels, excitedly listening out for the sound of them. Under the assumption you didn’t see them first.

You heard the steady pace of horse hooves before you saw the carriage, though you stood on your tip-toes. You grasped onto Techno’s arm for balance as you craned in an attempt to see. From your peripheral you could see him look at you, that amused smile on his face. His hand covered yours on his arm, allowing you to properly look for the carriage as it pulled up.

You were practically bouncing when it came to a stop, fingers curling into Techno’s arm. You didn’t even care who came out of the damned thing first, you were going to hug them. Techno laughed as you stared, watching the door open with such eager anticipation. You launched yourself away from Techno, throwing yourself at the man who stepped out of the carriage.

Arms wrapped around you, a startled laugh ringing in your ears as you were spun around before your feet returned to the ground. “Good to see you too.” You pulled back a little, grinning at George fondly.

“I missed you so much,” You held onto him tight, not wanting too much to part.

“It’s been a rough few weeks, hasn’t it?” He reached up to ruffle your hair, much to your protest.

“Did you miss me too?” Dream’s voice called as he stepped down onto the stone. Excitement lit up your face as you untangled yourself from your brother.

“Dream!” You called excitedly as you threw yourself at him next. He picked you up as your arms wrapped around his neck, holding you tight against him. “Of course I missed you, idiot. You never replied to any of my letters.” You buried your face into his neck, relishing the familiar scent of fresh linen and roses, as well as the sharp tang of metal. It was comforting to smell it again.

“I was busy with a few things, but I promised I read each and every one of them,” He assured you, hands squeezing your waist. Techno cleared his throat from behind the two of you, and you sheepishly pulled away from your friend at that. You offered Dream a gentler smile, turning to offer it to Techno as well. The same look he had given Dream back when you set off in the carriage, except it was a little more off putting now that you could actually see his facial expression. The down tilt of his mouth, the way his eyes were narrowed. It was enough to make you take a few large steps back from Dream, closer to Techno.

“I’m glad to see you made it here safely. I take it the trip was okay?” Techno mainly addressed George as he spoke, and you wandered back to his side. Standing between George and Dream held a different feeling than it had previously. George followed when Techno moved towards the castle. His hand settled in the middle of your lower back to guide you, an action that made heat rise to your cheeks. You were used to him resting a hand on your back, but it was always between your shoulder blades.

“It was, thank you. Have things been fine here?” George upheld the conversation, and you just let the two of them talk. Between the hand on your back and the heated stare you could feel burning holes into you, you didn’t think you trusted your voice at the moment.

“I’ll let you show them around. Come to the courtyard when you’re finished,” Techno addressed you, hand finally moving away from your back. You missed the touch just the slightest, but met Techno’s pointed look evenly. For training. He meant to meet him there to train. A smile blossomed on your face as it clicked.

“Alright, I shouldn’t take too long.” You watched him leave towards the courtyard, but not before he narrowed his eyes at Dream once more. It was going to be a long week, wasn’t it? You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on showing them around.

“He’s much less intimidating without the mask,” George mused, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“He’s only intimidating when he wants to be.” You led them towards the east wing, entirely forgoing the west wing. It was mostly just servants quarters and work rooms, so truly Dream and George didn’t need to know too much about it. You informed them as much, too.

“Where’s your dagger?” Dream questioned as you lead them into the dining hall, causing you to look at your hip. You hadn’t been wearing it since you never used it yet, and taking it off during training was just an extra step you didn’t care for.

“I haven’t learned to use it yet, though I’ll probably start learning to use it after the wedding.” You grinned bright, and George made a sound of disagreement.

“I still don’t think you need to be learning to fight. Surely you won’t be in a position where Technoblade can’t protect you.” You shrugged, leading them down the wings and pointing out various rooms.

“I don’t think I will be put into the position, but it doesn’t hurt to have the knowledge should it be needed.” You led them up the stairs next, heading towards the rooms they would be staying in.

“Just don’t get yourself hurt. I don’t want to get a letter about that.” Dream gave you a pointed look and you laughed, head shaking. 

“I won’t! I take good care of myself!” You defended, watching them examine the rooms. When they were satisfied and returned to your side, excitement bubbled in your stomach. This meant you were closer to training, all you had to do was change and head to the courtyards.

“Going to come with me to the courtyard?” You asked with an excited smile, heading in the direction of your room. 

“I don’t see why not. You seem awfully excited.” George raised an eyebrow and you grinned, peering out of the windows as you passed the ones that overlooked the courtyard. You could see the training patch from here, and you could very clearly see Techno on it, across from Philza. Both had swords drawn, practically dancing around each other and calculating the others movements. They moved with a sense of clear familiarity, around both each other and their blades. It wasn’t the first time you had seen Techno train using his sword, but it always enraptured you every time.

“I am.” Your voice was soft as George and Dream also glanced out the windows to see what you were looking at. Just in time for Techno to knock Philza’s sword out of his hand, the weapon bouncing along the ground. His shoulders heaved, a cocky grin on his face when his uncle raised his hands in defeat. He sheathed the sword, hand raising to wipe sweat from his brow. He’d clearly been training from the moment he’d been out there.

As if aware you were watching his gaze tilted up, looking towards the window. More specifically, towards you. He gave a grin your way, hand raising in a small wave which you couldn’t help but return. He raised his eyebrows, almost as if a silent question on if you were almost done and you couldn’t help but nod excitedly. From beside you, Dream huffed, especially at the smug smile on Techno’s face. You didn’t care, simply moving away from the window to move to your room faster.

“I have to change, but then we can go to the courtyard.” You practically ran into your room, eager to change into your pants and boots as opposed to the dress. You eyed the exposed bruises on your forearms, knowing full and well the reaction you were about to get. You slid out of your room, grinning up at George and Dream. “Okay, so, I may be about to go train-” You slowly started, warily eyeing their reactions. George made a noise of protest, eyes going wide. Dream shot a hand out, grabbing your wrist and lifting your arm up. The dim lighting in the hall illuminated the bruises of varying shades, as well as the scowl on Dream’s face.

“This is what happens when you train? You’re covered in bruises!” Dream demanded and you flinched a little, slipping your arm from his grasp.

“It’s from blocking hits, it’s not like he’s trying to hurt me,” You grumbled, sidestepping the blonde. The look on his face had made you uneasy, and you didn’t want to look at it. You just wanted to get to the courtyard. 

“You don’t know that! There’s no telling if he wants to hurt you or not!” Dream persisted from behind you. You took a breath, pausing on the stairs and looking at him.

“Dream, I am absolutely fine. You’ll see.” You didn’t give him too much time to react, darting down the stairs. You didn’t want a lecture- you wanted to train. You wanted to have fun. You could hear the two following behind you, as well as George’s soft muttering. Presumably he was reassuring the taller, but you didn’t care to listen to what they were saying.

The warmth of the sun was definitely welcome as it hit your skin. It was a familiar feeling, and you couldn’t help the eager grin on your face as you looked to Techno. He offered you a faint smile as he messed with his hair. He tugged it back, looping it into a loose bun. You raised an eyebrow at it, coming to stand across from him. “Taking this seriously enough to pull your hair back?” You questioned, swinging your arms across your chest in a stretch.

“I have to show your brother how much you’ve improved, don’t I?” He shifted, taking up a fighting stance once more. You naturally fell in line, mimicking his stance. George awkwardly stood to one side, Dream watching with a glare and his arms across his chest. Back behind Techno stood Philza, curiosity clear in his gaze. He hadn’t particularly watched the two of you train in the past, so it seemed now was the time he picked. Tommy and Wilbur were sat on the ground at his feet, watching with varying curiosity and interest.

You rolled your shoulders, before charging at Techno as you often did. You didn’t even have to think too much anymore, feigning to one side and shooting a hand out to clip his side. He had made sure very early on you learned to use your size to your advantage. That showed here as he turned, moving to hit you. You narrowly blocked the hand with your arm, jumping back as his foot shot out. The hit would have landed on your calf had it landed, and you were kinda thankful it had missed this time.

He didn’t relent on you as you danced on your toes, exchanging hits evenly. You stumbled when his hand passed your face, making you dodge to your best ability. You swung a fist out in retaliation, and he easily caught it. He swung it, pinning the arm behind your back. One hand moved towards your neck, hovering as if he had a knife. If he did, the blade would be very near your neck. Blood rushed in your ears, the adrenaline pumping. You were effectively trapped and defeated.

"I think I win this round," He murmured against your ear, and the blood rushed to your face. You were suddenly very aware of the way your back pressed to his chest. You were also vaguely aware of Tommy making disgusted gagging noises from the side.

"It would seem so," You managed to say back, voice barely short of a squeak. He unhanded you, allowing you to slip away from him. Your heart thundered as you took up your spot once more, looking at Techno’s family. Philza had this bemused look on your face, whereas Wilbur looked almost bored and Tommy looked disgusted. Your ears flushed and you focused in Techno once more, hands raised.

"Fight me," Dream's voice interrupted as he stepped into the middle of you and Techno. You blinked up at the blonde, turning to look at George. George had simply shrugged and you looked back towards Dream. Techno had stepped around him, an almost agitated look on his face.

"I was under the impression you didn't want her fighting?" He levelled Dream with a glare, which Dream only seemed to take in stride. Your stomach twisted anxiously, eyes darting between the two men.

"I don't but clearly you're going to teach her anyways." The way venom practically dripped from Dream's voice was worrisome, a trait you had only seen in him once or twice before.

"Well her future is here, so I think it matters more what I want and what she wants." He inclined his head, looking at him down the bridge of his nose. Tommy had leaned over to whisper to Wilbur, glancing at the two uneasily. Techno's fingers had twitched towards one of his swords, and it seemed like Dream was thinking similarly.

"Hey, its fine! I'll train with him! It'll be good to fight someone I'm not familiar with!" You exclaimed as you moved forwards, slotting yourself between them. You pushed at both of their chests, hoping to diffuse the situation. Dream gave Techno a smug smirk, and Techno simply sighed with a nod.

"Fine," He relented, taking a few steps back. He stood beside Philza, looking none too pleased.  You stepped back from Dream, returning to your spot. You could, at the very least, spar with him. So long as it kept the situation from escalating. He didn't wait for you to be ready like Techno often did, instead going straight for you.

You spun on your toes, yelping and dodging out of the way from the hit aimed towards your stomach. You rebounded from the initial shock, spinning again to smack your heel against his thigh. The slight wince that crossed his face immediately brought satisfaction bubbling up, a smile on your face. You weren’t given much time to celebrate the hit, though. You had to react fast, meeting each hit with your own. You winced a little as he struck your wrist, cursing under your breath.

His hits and timing were a lot less forgivable than Techno’s, having an edge to him that you were never quite prepared for. Your eyebrows knitted together as you punched at his shoulder on his bad side, knocking him off balance. His hand shot out, grasping onto your wrist and dragging you down with him. You yelped in surprise, his back slamming into the ground. His body padded you're fall, a small thing you were thankful for.

You weren't given too much time to contemplate the next course of action, getting thrown off of his chest. He rolled the pair of you over, leaving you pinned to the ground beneath him. His hand moved, mimicking as Techno had earlier. Like if he had a knife it would be pressed to your neck.

"I win," Dream whispered and leaned down, smug smirk still on his face. You huffed beneath him, shoving slightly at his hand at your defeat.

"Alright, you win. Now get off of me," You grumbled. You pouted a little and pushed at his shoulder, ignoring the way the smugness vanished. He complied, getting off of you and allowing you to sit up.

"You still have a lot of work to do." His voice came from above you, and you rolled your shoulders. You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"I haven't been training that long, of course I still need to learn." You placed your hands up under you, moving to push yourself up. Before you could, Techno’s all too familiar hand came into sight, offering to help you. He had inserted himself between you and Dream, a frown tugging at his lips. You easily took his hand, allowing him to pull you up. You stumbled as he did so with a little more force than necessary, colliding into his chest with a squeak.

"She did fine. She's not some delicate flower who needs you to keep her thorns clipped." He hardly seemed bothered by you being pressed to his chest, only seeming focused on staring down Dream. You carefully pulled away from Techno’s chest, though you continued to linger by him.

"I never said she was,” Dream spat, causing your nervousness to rise.

“Dream-” George started, moving to grab his friend’s shoulder.

“You didn’t say it explicitly, but your actions said it well enough.” You raised a hand, gently pressing it on Techno’s upper arm.

“Techno-” You murmured softly, moving to push him away. The two glowered at each other, though Techno did allow you to move him. You ushered him towards his brothers, glancing back at Dream nervously. Whatever tension was between these two was quite dangerous, and you didn’t like it. “Dream, maybe you and George should go to your rooms for right now.” Your voice was tense, unsure if the blonde would listen.

“She’s right, Dream.” George’s voice was low as he moved the younger back. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to refuse. Dream pushed George off of him, turning and heading towards the castle. George shot you an apologetic look, chasing after him. You breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing your face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into him,” You apologized to Techno, who finally looked to you again.

“What a dickhead,” Tommy chimed, a frown on his face as he looked towards the castle. You sighed, not even knowing how to respond. 

“Is he always like that?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow at you, drawing your attention to him.

“Not usually. He’s never done any of that before.” You turned back to Techno, watching him closely. His brows were furrowed, irritation sparkling in his eyes.

“Enough about him. We need to keep training you. Philza.” Techno turned towards his uncle. The older man walked forward, raising an eyebrow. “Go tell Ranboo I need a favor from him. Keep an eye on him,” He muttered softly, eyes cutting towards where Dream had left. Philza followed the gaze and nodded, leaving Techno’s full attention to focus on you. 

“Round two?” You questioned softly with a smile, eager for distraction. As Philza left towards the castle, Techno took up his normal stance and motioned for you. Sparring was better than dealing with whatever dramatics Dream had, and easier than wondering what this favor was that Techno called in from whoever Ranboo was.

Next Chapter | >

#dream team #dream smp #technoblade #technoblade x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #reader insert #kingdom au #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois family #t&t

[sankyeom]

batter up! | e.s

pairings: eric sohn x female reader genre: baseball player!eric, college au, strangers to lovers,  summary: in which you are assigned to interview the unapproachable baseball team ace eric sohn, and things end up going sideways word count: 6.1k (did i get carried way with the concept? yes i did) requested: nope i literally have other requests from months ago that i should get to but i’ve been having writers block and i couldn’t write any of them without it sounding awful sooooo here we are!!! enjoy lol note: all of the boyz are the same age for the sake of the story. also, the start of the plot is based on rowoon’s episode of sf9’s drama click your heart. 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

“So, you want to join newspaper,” the newspaper editor, Choi Chanhee, said as he crossed his arms and surveyed you. It was the start of the second semester, and you soon realised that you had very few clubs and activities under your belt. “What makes you think I’ll let you join in the middle of the year?” Chanhee inquired, raising an eyebrow in question. His full cheeks and baby pink hair usually made him seem approachable and soft, but his hard expression cancelled out any comfort his other features might have brought you.

You blinked at him. “We’ve been best friends since freshman year?” you deadpanned, irritated that Chanhee was making such a big deal out of it. From the corner of the room, you noticed Changmin suppress a giggle by clearing his throat and pretending to cough into the bend of his elbow. “Come on, Chanhee. You’re a reporter short since Bomin quit, right?” you recalled what he had been moaning about for nearly three months. “I can fill in for him! I’ll be great.”

Despite being your best friend and normally having quite a warm personality, Chanhee was skeptical. “Alright,” he decided, drawing the word out and unfolding his arms. Chanhee sauntered over to where Changmin was standing and – after giving him a sharp elbow to the ribs – grabbed his clipboard, pretending to look for something to assign you. You could tell by the ways his eyes didn’t even skim the words that he already had something in mind for you. “If you’re so desperate to join the paper, then you can do the interview on Eric Sohn,” he stated, giving you a challenging look.

So much for him “going easy on you”, as he had said moments before the two of you entered the media room together.

Dramatically, a few gasps sounded through the media room and you sighed. “Who’s Eric Sohn?” you almost regretted asking, since everyone seemed mortified that you didn’t know him.

“He’s the baseball team’s ace,” Juyeon explained while trying to balance his water bottle on his head. It was half full and he had been at it for the entire time you tried to convince Chanhee to let you join newspaper. “Unapproachable as hell, though. We’ve tried to interview him before and believe me, it was terrible,” he added with a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. “He’s a friend of ours but he doesn’t really say much.”

“Everyone wants to know more about him,” Chanhee elaborated, causing your eyes to flicker back to your best friend. “And if I want to be the best editor in history of the paper, I’m getting that story,” he smiled sweetly, as if he hadn’t given you – what seemed like – an impossible job. “Like you said, you’ll be great!” Chanhee pumped a fist in the air half-heartedly to encourage you.

Sunwoo snorted, lying across three chairs he had lined up for him to curl up on. “Or not,” he sang, tossing a hacky sack between his hands with ease. “Eric’s my best friend and the last time I tried to interview him, he yelled at me for interrupting his practice and had the coach kick me out,” Sunwoo seemed amused by the turn of events, but it didn’t motivate you to carry out your interview. “I’m banned from the baseball field now.”

It wasn’t long before other members of the paper brought up their own horror stories, describing attempts at interviewing the baseball team’s ace. The negativity in the room surprised you; it was supposedly only an interview assignment. Was Eric Sohn really that difficult to be around? And if so, why was your best friend making your first assignment so hard on you? 

“So far, this assignment has been proven impossible to complete,” Chanhee explained. “Do we all agree that if Y/n can do this, she gets to join newspaper? No questions asked?” he glanced around at his team of writers, photographers and editors. Immediately, the members all nodded. Chanhee smiled at you. 

Well, that answered your questions. 

Feeling burdened, you asked Chanhee, “How long do I have for this?”

Chanhee flicked through the stack of papers attached to his clipboard until he found the paper’s schedule. “I can give you about a month, but no more than that,” he insists. “I may be your best friend, but I do have a weekly paper to put out,” he adds, making you nod.

“A month is more than enough,” you promised. “On what days does the baseball team meet?”

The indoor baseball stadium your university had was cold in the mornings. Chanhee had managed to get Eric’s practice schedule from Sunwoo, and the next morning at 5:30am sharp, you arrived at the stadium to try and interview Eric. As you opened the main door, you could hear a loud and clear voice  telling everyone to do their warmups so they could start practicing. Since you didn’t know much about baseball, you decided to make your way towards the bleachers and watch the team practice for a while.

Chanhee had shown you a picture of Eric so you would know who you were looking for, and you were slightly miffed that it hadn’t done him any justice. He stood out much more in person; his features sharper and body leaner and stronger from the years of practice. You were almost intimidated by his overall aura and piercing gaze.

Checking your notes, you recalled basic information that Chanhee had given you so that you weren’t completely clueless going into your interview. Eric Sohn was the ace player because he was their best batter and fastest runner. This combination along with his precision allowed him to almost always hit home runs and also be an excellent fielder. A summary of his past scores had also been provided, but that might as well have been a completely different language because you couldn’t understand it.

With a sigh, you tightened your jacket around you in order to warm up more in the cool stadium. Watching Eric practice, you noticed that he wasn’t batting very well on that day. There was a crease between his brows and he kept hitting the ground with his bat in frustration, occasionally throwing it down staring at the floor in contemplation.

You really felt for him.

It was clear that the team relied on him a lot and his reputation of being unapproachable and cold surely couldn’t have been entirely fair, either. His coach was chastising him, pointing his finger and raising his voice as Eric stood still and nodded, face void of any expression. You assumed his coach had told him to take a break, because he started removing his batting gloves and making his way to the bench.

You knew it probably wasn’t the best time to approach him for a favour, but you had been sitting for nearly an hour and your legs and thighs were starting to feel numb. The walk down the steps was welcome, even when your heart raced with nerves as you approached Eric. When you were a few steps away from him, the boy glanced up and raised an eyebrow at you. “This is a closed practice,” he told you.

Of course he had to have the most incredible voice to go along with his looks. Great.

“Um,” You stammered dumbly for a moment, tucking your hair behind your ear to give your hands something to do. “I know. I just- I was hoping you had a moment?” you asked, voice far less confident than you had wished. “I’m on the university’s newspaper and I was assigned an interview on you.”

“On me,” Eric repeated, tilting his head to the side. “Chanhee really doesn’t give up, does he,” something resembling a chuckle left his lips. “I’m at practice right now,” his tone was firm, as if he was trying to tell you to leave without expressing those exact words.

You felt yourself nodding. “I get it… if you’re having a hard time with your practice,” you added, thinking back to how his coach yelled at him. “I understand that and I can leave you alone.”

Eric observed you; you weren’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but he suddenly motioned towards you. “What’s the first question?” he asked. You were pleased that he had decided to do the interview and, in fear of him changing his mind again, immediately opened your notebook to search for the questions Chanhee had wanted answered.

“Right,” you said, finding the right page. “Um, what made you-“

“Heads up!” a shout distracted you from your thoughts. Your head whipped to the side to see who was shouting, only to see a baseball being hurtled at you at a blistering speed.

“Watch out!” Eric exclaimed, jumping in front of you to grab the baseball before it could smack you directly in the face. You flinched at the sound of his hand coming in contact with the baseball, stunned that he had expertly caught the tiny sphere at the speed it was going at.

Just as you were about to thank Eric for saving you, the boy fell to the ground, moaning in pain at the impact. The ball fell from his grasp and he held onto the hand that caught it with his other; tears building in his eyes. You kneeled down next to him, panicked. “Are you okay?” you questioned, concerned at his reaction.

“Sohn!” his coach yelled, running over to where you and Eric were crouched. “What the hell were you thinking, catching a fastball with your bare hands?” the man chastised, kneeling with the boy and calling the team medic over to inspect Eric’s hand.

“Is that bad?” you asked innocently, confused as to why Eric was in so much pain.

The coach gave you a glare. “Get out of my stadium,” he ordered instead of answering you.

You glanced between him and Eric, feeling embarrassed at the situation. “I’m really sorry,” you told Eric sincerely, picking up your abandoned bag and running out of the stadium.

Chanhee was going to kill you.

“I thought you wanted to be on the paper,” Chanhee said with a frown. “Not that you wanted the paper to write an article about you injuring the baseball team’s star player,” he emphasised, making you flinch.

“That isn’t fair!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t do anything wrong! If anything, we should be asking ourselves why a teammate of Eric’s blatantly hurled a baseball in his direction,” you tried to defend yourself. “And I was in the midst of getting that interview, thank you very much.”

“And now I’ll never get it,” Chanhee sighed. Younghoon rolled his eyes at your friend’s theatrics.

“Shouldn’t we be more concerned that our friend is injured than the fact that you didn’t get your story?” he reminded your pink-haired friend. Chanhee waved his hand at him, as if physically swatting Younghoon’s words away, before going back to picking at his lunch.

“Yeah Chanhee,” a voice behind you agreed, and you knew in your gut that it was Eric. Nervously, you turned around to face the blond and saw him already looking at you. Your eyes met and you were startled by how much warmer his deep brown eyes appeared. “You’re being a terrible friend.”

“Well you’re a terrible friend, too,” Chanhee argued. “How many reporters have I sent to interview you, only to have them be humiliated and turned down?” he asked.

“I’m injured,” Eric said as he took the empty seat between you and Kevin. “Can’t you lay off on the newspaper stuff for a while?” Chanhee rolled his eyes but said nothing; you knew this meant that he agreed with Eric but was too proud to voice it.

Eric’s mention of an injury made you glance down at his right hand, seeing it tightly wrapped in a bandage. “Are you okay?” you asked him, observing his hand.

“It’s a sprain,” Eric explained, lifting his hand up for your friends to see. “Nothing major, but I have to sit out of practice for at least a month, according to the doctor,” he added. “It’s a good thing the season doesn’t start until two months from now.”

Your heart sank at his admission. “I’m really sorry,” you told him. “Truly. I never meant for that to happen,” you promised. “Is there anything I can do?” you offered, wanting to help him out since you had caused enough problems for him.

“Sure,” Eric allowed. “First off, you can tell me your name.”

You smiled at this. “I’m Y/n,” you introduced yourself. “What else?”

You were surprised when the corners of Eric’s mouth lifted up into a small grin. “You could walk me to class?”

He had a stunning smile. Something about it made you want to make him smile more.

Helping Eric with his books and bag had become a regular thing. At first, you did it because you felt guilty about partially being at fault for his injury (and because you were curious about him). Soon, you found that Eric was actually quite a bright and excitable person who was a lot of fun to be around.

As Eric was always so busy juggling school and baseball, he never sat with you and your mutual friends during mealtimes. Now that he no longer had to attend baseball practise at the recommendation of his doctor, Eric was able to sit with your friends every lunch and dinner. Even your friends were surprised when Eric started openly joining discussions and laughing at Sangyeon and Juyeon’s terrible jokes. Sunwoo especially was quite startled by this change; as his roommate and best friend, it was a change that he welcomed despite the initial shock.

After a particularly tiring day of midterms, you felt compelled to do something fun instead of spending the whole night cramming for a midterm you were already confident in doing well on. At approximately 3am, you found yourself rounding up ingredients for chocolate chip cookies from your baking stash and tip-toeing your way into the communal kitchen to bake.

Your roommate had been asleep for a few hours at that point, and you knew that most of your friends would be resting after their rigorous study schedules. Thus, as you rolled up your sleeves and pre-heated the oven, you hadn’t expected anybody to be awake to join your late night – or early morning? – cookie escapades.

Which was why you nearly lost your soul when a hand tapped you on the shoulder. You had your earphones in and were humming along to your favourite playlist as you started mixing the dry ingredients for your cookies, and leapt in the air at the contact. Whirling around, you sighed in relief when you saw Eric, stood with pink pyjamas and ruffled hair, instead of your RA. “You scared me,” you told him, even though you knew he could tell from your reaction. “What are you doing awake?”

Eric shrugged. “I heard someone walking down the hall,” he explained. “I guess a small part of me was hoping it was you,” he grinned widely after his cheesy comment, urging you to roll your eyes.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up and palms started sweating at his sweet words.

“What are you making?” Eric asked, hopping up to sit on the counter and slipping his glasses on so he could see better. “Cookies?”

You hummed. “Chocolate chip,” you added with a big grin, holding up the bag of sugary delights to emphasise your point.

“My favourite,” Eric noted happily. “Can I help?”

You nodded, listing off the wet ingredients that he could prepare for you in a seperate bowl. You knew he could pour it all with one hand and you would do the mixing yourself afterwards. After handing Eric one of your earphones, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you made your cookie batter, the silence only breaking once in a while by your giggles as you bumped into one another. The first time was a mistake on your part, but after that the two of you were trying your hardest to make the other person giggle and squirm.

Once the cookies were shaped and in the oven, you and Eric sat on the floor near them to relish in the heat the oven was radiating. “What were those questions you wanted to ask me?” Eric inquired, referring to the interview questions Chanhee had prepared for you.

Your eyes widened in surprise. The two of you hadn’t discussed the interview since he was injured, and you had nearly forgotten about your assignment. “Oh. They were mostly just about your baseball life and how you keep your grades up and stuff,” you admitted. “It’s not the interview I would have wanted to give, but it’s what Chanhee wanted.”

“What would you have asked me, then?” Eric asked. “What is your ideal Eric Sohn interview,” he added in an MC voice, making you fight off a grin at how silly he was being.

“Well,” you trailed off, trying to find the right wording. “That day I was at practice it looked like you were having a pretty hard time. What was going through your mind?”

Eric went silent. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I was just thinking that it’s hard to be perfect all the time. My team relies on me a lot, and while it’s an honour to be such an important member of the team, it can be really hard when people expect you to be the ace and you don’t perform.”

There was a distant look on his face, as if his thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. “What made you want to join the university baseball team?” you asked, moving slightly so that you were facing Eric more comfortably.

A smile reached his lips. “I just really love baseball,” he chuckled. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. Obviously I knew that university baseball was going to be on a different level, but I just knew that I wasn’t done playing yet. The challenge was exciting and it motivated me to be a better player.”

“I guess it worked,” you mused.

“I guess so,” he reluctantly agreed.

“So when did you start playing?” you asked, peering into the oven to check on your cookies. They had at least another five minutes left until they would be the golden-brown colour you wanted.

“I’ve played with my dad for fun ever since I can remember,” Eric admitted. “Of course when you grow up in LA, you watch baseball on TV with your family,” he added, reminiscing in his childhood.

“Dodgers?” you guessed his favourite team, since he said he was from LA.

“Yankees,” he corrected with a shrug. “My family used to go down to Yankee stadium to watch them play during baseball season when we visited New York. Our seats were always all the way in the back in the highest row, but I didn’t care. As long as I got to watch it all,” you laughed at his excitement. “I guess you could say my baseball career started in little league,” Eric recalled, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Sometimes I wish I could go back,” the smile slowly fell from his face. “Everything was so much easier then.”

“I get that,” you agreed with him. “I never played in little league, but I remember going to my friends’ games,” you said, almost picturing the old baseball field with all your friends running around and playing. “I didn’t even know what was going on in the game. All I knew was that I could cheer on my friends. I’d yell for them as loudly as possible and get popcorn to keep myself entertained during the parts where my friends were benched,” you smiled at the memory. “It was just... fun. I didn’t have to think about any grown-up problems.”

“That’s exactly how I felt,” Eric agreed, excitement filling his voice. “I finally got to make friends that loved baseball as much as me, and playing was fun. It was exciting and nerve-wracking, and it made me happy to practice and play another game,” he sighed. “These days, I play because the university relies on me, and because my parents want me to,” Eric confessed. “I miss loving baseball, I-“ he paused, clearing his throat. “I want to love baseball. But with all the pressure and expectations…” he trailed off, alluding to the fact that he no longer loved the sport that used to fill his childhood with happiness.

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry,” you told him, more as a form of empathy than anything else. “What made you fall in love with baseball in the first place?”

Eric pondered. “Well, at first I just enjoyed playing the sport. But the longer I played, I guess I liked being part of a team. I liked feeling supported by the other guys and feeling like I was needed and trusted by them.”

“What’s missing from your team now that makes you feel like you don’t have that?” you wondered.

“I guess my team relies on me more than I feel like I can give them,” Eric confesses, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, and you hesitantly reached your hand out for him to hold. He grasped it tightly in his, thankful for the small sign of support.

“Maybe you can find support elsewhere,” you suggested, slightly holding up your hands and smiling.

“Yeah, maybe,” Eric agreed with a smile, tears slightly welling in the corners of his eyes. You didn’t have anything else to say and were grateful for the alarm quietly going off on your phone, signalling that your cookies were ready. “Perfect timing,” he added with a laugh as the two of you stood up. You pretended not to see Eric wipe away a tear with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

They hadn’t looked like sad tears.

Chanhee flipped through the pages you had printed out for him to read. He already spent ten minutes reading and re-reading the article you had written. At this point, it was just getting ridiculous. “Chanhee,” you whined, making the pink-haired boy place the papers down.

“This is…” he paused, trying to find the words. “How did you get him to open up like that?” Chanhee wondered, unable to grasp the idea that Eric had given you so many childhood anecdotes and personal stories to fill the pages of your interview.

You smiled. “I just talked to him like a friend instead of someone to interview,” you shrugged. “He’s actually surprisingly easy to talk to. And really talkative once he gets started,” you added as an afterthought.

“I noticed that about him recently,” Sunwoo agreed. This time, instead of lying across three chairs, he was sat upside down on the only sofa in the media room, head dangling dangerously close to the ground. “These days he seems happy to tell me about his day and doesn’t leave a single detail out. It’s kind of crazy to see the change,” Sunwoo told you.

Chanhee help up the pages. “Did he really approve everything in this?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I wrote it with his permission and let him read it all before I brought it to you. He’s happy with it,” you promised your best friend. “Wouldn’t want to upset my best friend and potential editor…” you trailed off, hopeful.

“Well obviously you’re in!” Chanhee exclaimed, hugging you tightly as you laughed. “You just got me the most personal article of a university athlete I’ve ever published. You deserve it,” he assured you. “Plus, you put a permanent smile on one of my friend’s faces. I didn’t think that would be possible,” Chanhee gave you a meaningful look when you separated, causing you to smile bashfully and angle your gaze at the floor to avoid his gaze.

“He’s way more open than you guys gave him credit for,” you retorted. You truly believed it; the first time you tried to interview him, he had surprised you with how willing he was to help you out.

“And emotional,” Changmin chimed in. “He cried during The Notebook, then he cried again when we put a horror film on afterwards. You can’t win.”

His comment made you laugh, picturing Eric curled up on the couch in the communal dorm movie room while sobbing into Changmin’s shoulder was too good to pass up on. “Make sure you invite me to the next movie night,” you requested. Changmin saluted you in response, Sunwoo throwing a thumbs up in agreement to allow you to join. “Anyway, I need to get going. I’m actually heading to surprise said cry-baby at his first day back at practice,” you informed them, picking up your bag to get going.

“His hand healed so quickly?” Juyeon asked, surprised.

“Not at all,” you denied with a sad smile. “He says it’s still hurting these days. But his coach wants him to come observe practice so when his hand heals he’ll be up to date on everything... Or something,” you shrugged, unsure of how people prepared for baseball games.

As you waved your goodbyes, Chanhee called out to you: “Don’t forget we meet every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for newspaper!” You were pleased that Chanhee had enjoyed your article and wanted you on the newspaper, especially since so many of your friends were usually occupied by this extracurricular activity anyway.

Once you arrived at the baseball stadium, you took a seat on the first bleacher to wait for Eric to arrive. The weather had warmed significantly since the first time you came a month ago. You supposed the fact that it was an afternoon practice instead of an early morning practice also added to the lack of cold you were experiencing.

“Hey,” a member of Eric’s team approached you with a smile.

Unsure, you smiled back and greeted him. “Hello,” you said.

“You look a little out of place,” he said to you, standing in front of you. “I’ve never seen you here before,” he added.

“Oh yeah, I don’t usually come here,” you confirmed for him. “I’m just waiting for a friend,” you added politely.

“You’re far too pretty to be waiting alone,” he said, which made you freeze up. You hadn’t been approached by guys like him often, but it had happened enough for you to know that they really couldn’t take a hint.

“And yet here I am,” you replied, trying to sound curt.

“I could keep you company,” the guy suggested. You opened your mouth to protest, but he had already taken a seat next to you, far too close for your personal comfort. As you subtly scooted away from him, he seemed to take this as a suggestion for him to sit even closer to you. “I like your hair,” he said, lifting his hand as if he was about to touch it.

A hand grabbed his before he could. “It doesn’t sound like you asked,” Eric told his teammate, right hand tightening on the boy’s, voice clipped and laced with anger. “So I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Eric yanked him up to his feet, and you finally felt like you could breathe again with the distance between the two of you. With a harsh shove, he stumbled back and glared at Eric, cursing under his breath and stalking off.

“Eric your hand,” you realised, standing up and trying to inspect his injured hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, searching your body for any sign that you were uncomfortable or hurt. “That creep didn’t say or do anything?”

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m fine! But your hand-“ you soon realised that Eric wasn’t even wearing the brace anymore. After the original bandage that was put on it, his doctor had given him a small wrap brace so he could do everyday activities with more ease and support. Instead, his hand was bare and looked completely fine. “Is healed?” you stammered, confused. You glanced up at Eric, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “Just yesterday you told me that it was hurting.”

“I lied,” Eric confessed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you forgave him easily. It wasn’t a big deal and you were just happy that he wasn’t in pain anymore, especially since you felt partially responsible for the injury in the first place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you wondered.

Eric scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “I like having you around, okay?” he admitted. “I figured that after you got whatever you needed for your interview, you would leave me alone and go back to how things were before I was injured.”

His disclosure had stunned you into silence. You opened your mouth to say something twice, but ended up closing it again for lack of knowing what to say. “You thought I was just talking to you for my interview?” you clarified. Eric nodded. “I completely forgot about it until you brought it up a few weeks ago,” you admitted to him. “I was spending time with you because I wanted to, not because I wanted to get interview answers out of you,” you promised.

“Not even because you felt guilty about being involved in my injury?” Eric inquired.

“At first I wanted to help you because I felt guilty,” you agreed. “But after the first time we hung out together I stopped caring about that.”

“Oh,” Eric said, staring at you as if he had no clue what to say. “I really thought you were going to leave…”

You were amused that Eric was so sure of himself. “Did you ever consider asking me to stay?” you pointed out, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow to tease him.

Eric paused. “Will you?” he wondered.

“Will you?” you retorted.

Eric frowned. “I’m lost,” he stated. “Will I what?”

You grinned, finding his furrowed brows and slightly cocked head quite adorable. “Kiss me,” you told him what you meant. His eye’s widened, lips parting slightly before Eric nodded. Once, twice, three times. You took this as your cue and stepped closer to him, your lips easily finding his as you closed your eyes.

“Sohn!” the sound of his coach’s voice caused you to jump apart. “This is baseball practice. You can practice that in your own time,” he said, although you could tell by his tone that he was poking fun at his ace player.

Eric blushed, clearing his throat. “Yes coach,” he called, smiling shyly at you before rushing off to put on his batting gloves.

Decked out in your university’s colours, you stood in the bleachers with your friends, anxiously biting your lip as you watched the game unfold before you. Eric and his team had made it to the championships this season, and you were more than thrilled to go and support him with the rest of your friends. Eric had been teaching you about baseball for months now, and the more you went to watch him play, the more motivated you were to remember everything he told you.

Your article had been published in the newspaper a week after you handed it in to Chanhee, and the personal interview had made it the most popular issue Chanhee had ever published as the editor of the weekly paper. Needless to say, readers wanted you to write a follow-up interview on Eric and his life on the baseball team, especially after word got out that the two of you had started dating. For a while, you were the talk of the town. You were unnerved by the sudden attention, but things mellowed down soon after people realised that you weren’t interested in satiating their endless questions.

“How much longer is this going to be?” Haknyeon whined, sighing as he leaned against Kevin for support. He had mostly been attracted by the idea of all the great snacks that being at a baseball game entailed, and hadn’t realised that a game without timing such as baseball could go on for hours.

“This is the ninth inning, so most games usually end with this round,” you spouted the information Eric had drilled into you with ease after going to his games all season long.

Next to you, Jacob giggled. “You’re turning into a natural at this,” he complimented, grinning. “Eric would be proud,” he added happily.

“Eric is their last batter,” you said in response, more focused on the game than on Jacob’s comments. “He looks nervous,” you mused, foot tapping nervously on the floor, causing your whole leg to move rapidly.

“Don’t you be nervous, he’s got this,” Kevin assured you, trying to stop Haknyeon from falling asleep on his shoulder. “Despite his injury a few months before the season started, this is the best he’s ever played.”

Hyunjae chuckled. “Yeah, I wonder why,” he teased, pointing over at you behind his hand as if you wouldn’t have known what he was doing.

You shushed your friends. “He’s up,” you said, voice shaking slightly from your nerves.

Eric stepped up to the place, looking like he was at ease and confident. This calmed you only slightly, because you knew that Eric was good at putting on a performance during his games. He knew that if he looked even slightly anxious, it would affect the other players and the audience too. Eric adjusted his grip on the bat and got in position. The pitcher threw the ball and Eric swung, missing the ball by a hair.

You groaned. “Strike one!” the umpire called, holding up a finger.

“Come on, Eric…” you mumbled, folding your hands together and squeezing tightly.

The second time the pitcher threw the ball, Eric swung the bat and hit the ball clean, sending it soaring over the outfield fence, only hitting the ground after flying between the foul poles. You gasped, jumping in the air and cheering. “What’s happening?” Chanhee asked, standing up next where you and Jacob were shouting for joy.

“Home run!” you and Jacob chorused as Eric ran his way to each base at lightning speed, reaching home base and making the winning run for your university’s team. “We won!” Jacob added and your friends all cheered with you, jumping up and down in excitement.

You could see the team celebrating together by screaming and jumping as well, and you clapped along with the rest of the audience. Eric joined their excitement after pulling off his helmet and gloves, making you smile in relief. After opening up to you and your friends, Eric had decided to speak with his team and coach about the pressure he was feeling. The team had reacted better than Eric expected, and soon Eric felt reassured and supported by his teammates.

Once Eric had given his coach a hug, he charged towards the fence separating the field from the bleachers. Instantly, your friends started cooing at you, but you only rolled your eyes. You had gotten used to the teasing after dating Eric for half a year at that point and it no longer affected you anymore. You handed Jacob your bag and raced down the bleacher steps towards your boyfriend.

“Congratulations!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him when he met you on your side of the fence. You easily fit into his arms and heard Eric’s adrenaline-filled laughter next to your ear.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he stated, pulling away just enough to kiss you. The cheers coming from your friends were almost defeating at this point but you ignored them, pulling Eric closer to you and deepening the kiss. When you pulled away, he gave you one last peck before beaming. “You helped me fall in love with baseball again, and that’s something I can never repay you for,” Eric told you, causing your heart to swell with pride.

You had noticed the changes in Eric’s attitude towards baseball before the season started. He seemed more excited about his practices and was getting closer to the people on his team. “It’s not little league, but it’s pretty good, right?” you asked rhetorically.

Eric laughed. “Really good,” he corrected. “Not only did I fall in love with baseball again, but it helped me fall in love with you for the first time,” Eric confessed. The two of you had never said that you loved each other, even though you showed it every day with your actions.

You beamed. “I love you too, Eric.”

And with that, you were pulled into another kiss. This one felt more fulfilling and warm than all the previous ones combined.

note: i’m a sucker for cheesy endings so i had to end it like this!!

#the boyz #eric #eric sohn #tbz #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #the boyz fic #the boyz x reader #son youngjae #eric imagines #eric imagine #the boyz imagine #tbz imagines #tbz imagine #eric x reader #deobiwritersnet #fic: batter up!