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ultimate-chickennougat · 3 months

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| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 2)

Vol 1 (not required) Vol 3 Vol 4 Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader;

Waking up with Kento Nanami...

Word Count: 1.2k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, Nanami's shirtless (nondescriptive)

A/n: I hope to make a 3rd volume soon... this was so fun to write!

There was something so peaceful about the morning. Since marriage, life was full of excitement and pleasures big and small. Former causes of stress had been lifted off your shoulders, all by the love of your life, your dear husband Nanami - something that you would always be grateful for.

To say that the provided comfort was reciprocated, was certainly believed by Nanami. His disposition on work remained unchanged since you first met, and you had remained his most precious thought, making every troublesome day worth it and fade away.

Instead, it was only time that still lingered, the tick of a clock and rise and fall of the sun being your constant reminders. In the end, life is short, something that both you and Nanami understood and dreaded.

That was the reason for sleeping in that morning, in Nanami’s eyes. He knew you were both sore and tired from the day before, and it was only right that the two of you got some much needed time together, as newlyweds.

Sunlight had started to pour into the room through the large windows, decorating the dressers and chairs away from the bed. It was a sight to behold, the precious space that the two of you decorated together, and of course the face of you, sleeping softly in his arms.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought that crossed his mind, closing his eyes. Though he could spend hours listing everything he loved about you, there was one that was particularly apparent at that moment.

Your heat.

The warm radiating heat of your body, covered in blankets after long hours of sleeping. It was such a wonderful contrast to the coolness from the night before, after you took a quick shower and hopped into bed, clean as you preferred. Feeling cold as usual, you had snuggled in close to his arms as he spooned you, hand resting on your stomach as you drifted off to sleep.

Now, you were the warm one, and Nanami wouldn’t have it any other way. It was addictive, having your heated squishy form pressed against him when he woke up. In fact, he woke up early every day, just to enjoy that without missing work.

To get started on the day's tasks, you had to wake up early as well. Nanami left for work promptly at 8:30 AM each morning, and his breakfast and lunch had to be prepared, as well as his outfit and things. Now, this didn’t take nearly as much time as was provided by waking up at 5:30, and the intention of course was so he could sleep in, but that didn’t happen, and in fact it never did.

Something about it being important for Nanami to wake his wife up, with kisses of course, was still floating around in his brain after two months of sleeping in the same bed. He got a good 7 hours of sleep anyway, and dreaming of you still wasn’t as good as the real thing.

Moving even closer to you, he started his little routine. His arms wrapped around your torso, as he gripped the pink nightgown you had on. Placing his head near your shoulder, he carefully kissed your ear, hearing small murmurs from you.

“Good morning, my cute little wife,” he smiled, kissing your jaw next as you stirred. His breathing got heavier as he felt your hands move to his. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Y/n?” his head moved down to kiss your shoulder, and then your nose as you held onto his wrist.

You were so perfect, laying with him on your side. Surely you were tired, waking up early every morning when you could sleep in. That was why he had to do it, to wake you up himself and make it as enjoyable as possible. To have his voice be the first thing you hear every day, and to get to inform you of his love, even before you got to work. Of course he enjoyed this as well, another sight that only he has ever seen.

“Kento…” you murmured, finally awake. This time he pulled you closer to him, lazily throwing his leg over yours and turning your face to make eye contact. “Yes dear?” he whispered back, kissing your forehead. “I love you…” you mumbled incoherently, still half asleep, as you started kicking the blankets off, overheating.

He kissed the top of your head, next. “You’re so warm…” he replied, squeezing you tighter. “I love it,” he couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you squirmed, his words making you feel butterflies. “It’s too early in the morning for that…” you whined, trying to turn away from him, but he stopped you with another kiss. This time, to your lips.

It was sweet and short, only a few moments passing before he pulled away. “You’re right, my apologies,” he gave you another kiss on the nose. “I’ll save the compliments for later.” You blushed, silently enjoying his groggy voice. It was deep and rough, his tiredness was evident with every word - and you loved the sound.

“Darling, I should get up now.” You stated, starting to untangle yourself from his grip, but in response it only got tighter. Your eyes were wide, starting to feel awake. “Is it that late already?” He asked, rubbing your stomach lightly, as if he wasn’t the one with the watch.

He pulled you over to face him, holding you in a hug. Your face pressed against his bare chest, an evident blush covering your face as he kissed your head again. The lack of clothing kept him cool, making it incredibly comfortable in the morning.

He tilted your head up, meeting your eyes. “Just a few more minutes, I’m tired,” he chuckled, feeling as you pushed him away. “Okay just a few more… or else your breakfast won’t be ready,” you groaned at the thought. His lunch could be put together with leftovers in the fridge, and of course he wouldn’t complain, but all the fresh fruit you had picked up the store would go to waste if it wasn’t used up.

It felt like eternity wrapped in his arms, hearing his deep and slow breaths, the sound of his heart beating, and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as you laid your head on it.

So much so that you didn’t realize it had only been thirty minutes by the time you worked up the will to ask.

“Darling?” You spoke softly, reaching up to give him a kiss yourself. “It’s 6:08, if you’re curious.” He responded, seeing you stare at his wrist. “Thank you, for this.” He pressed his lips onto yours, still just briefly, finally allowing you to get up. The downside to this morning arrangement, in Nanami’s opinion, was that he was awake. You took care of everything he needed to do in the morning, brewing his much needed cup of coffee and picking out his clothing, so that all he had to do was get up and move around, saving his energy for work. But what was the point of being laying in bed when you were gone?

You pushed the covers off your legs, quickly standing up off the bed as to not get drawn back in. Nanami sat up as well, resting against the headboard. Luckily, he still had the view of you rummaging through his closet, still all tired and in your nightgown, asking him sweetly about his activities for that day to choose the perfect tie.

Now he was definitely not going back to sleep.

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami #jjk x reader

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deliciousbasementtrash · 7 months

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Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Artist Nick Robles **Thank you for the correction @miraculous-panic **

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. You bump into Jason. How will your first meeting go?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, knife injury

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Part Five: Hello Sailor

I opened my eyes and had a face full of an exposed chest. I hadn’t run into a wall. I ran into a man. A man with wet jet-black hair with a white streak. His full torso was exposed revealing a white Y-shaped scar and a very defined body that was glistening with water. He had various bruises and cuts along his body making an instinctual part of me want to reach out and heal him. Although, I refrained from that urge. He only wore a white towel that was wrapped low against his V-cut hips. My face heated and words failed me.

“I’m… I’m y/f/n. The healer Bruce hired,” I stammered. God how embarrassing. I could face a level one trauma without a blink of an eye but put a man fresh out of the shower in front of me, and apparently my mind turns to mush.

“I figured,” he reached out a large hand; I took it. He nodded, “Jason Todd. If you wanted an introduction you could have asked, you didn’t need to tackle me.”

“Pfft that was barely a nudge. A slight bump if you will.”

He pointed at one of his many bruises, “Look what you did to me! If that is your ‘slight nudge’ I’d hate to see a real tackle from you, y/n.”

“Oh please, that bruise is at least three days old! You can’t pin that on me!” I tilted my head back and laughed.

“New girl I can pin whatever I want on you. You tackled me, and bruised me before I got so much as a ‘hi, nice to meet you.’”

“Hi Jason Todd, nice to meet you. Are you going to let me heal you or do you want to keep your injuries to seem mysterious and interesting?” I asked in a sweetly sarcastic manner.

“First you bruised my body and now my ego, wow y/n,” Jason drew out the syllables of my name as if he was savoring them.

“If you don’t take me up on my offer in three seconds I’m going to bed,” I said flatly. My tone might have indicated that I was serious but I knew that the threat was empty.

Jason threw up his hands in surrender, “Yes ole mighty healer! Please have mercy upon me!”

I rolled my eyes and started walking toward my room. Jason followed me.

“This is your room?” Jason asked, surprise lacing his tone.

“Yes, why?” I asked, curious.

“It’s nothing.”

I ignored his weird comment and sat on the edge of my bed. I motioned for Jason to sit next to me. I could have sworn I saw his eyes widen from across the room. He made his way over slowly as if hesitant.

The bed dipped as he sat down. He was a very large man. Practically a giant. With broad shoulders and thick thighs… okay nope. Not going down that route, you need to focus you pervert. I thought to myself.

“So how do you do this? Do you wave your magic wand and make my owies go away?” Jason looked at me intently. The question was partly a joke, but I could tell he wanted a serious run down of how it works. Just as I was about to elaborate a fluff ball came hurtling out of nowhere.

Hashbrown practically parkoured herself onto Jason’s lap. Jason’s laugh was deep and smooth like dark chocolate and honey. He reached his hand out and let Hashbrown sniff before he began to pet her lightly. Soon the room was filled with her purrs.

“Who is this?” Jason asked, smiling.

“That attention whore would be Miss Hashbrown herself,” I huffed.

Jason reached out a hand and grabbed Hashbrown’s front paw. I was shocked she let him. “Hello, Miss Hashbrown.”

Okay wow. The inappropriate thoughts are going wild. There was something about a man being gentle and good with animals.

I swallowed hard and focused myself, “In order to heal you I have to rest my hands against you. It works best with skin-on-skin contact but in emergencies, I can make it work through cloth. Or if you are more comfortable doing it through clothing we may do that as well.” I put on my professional Nurse voice which left little room for playfulness.

I heard Jason clear his throat and then he nodded, “It’s fine. I’m okay with skin-on-skin.” I saw a faint blush in his cheeks as he said it.

I rubbed my hands together trying to warm them for his comfort. I raised them slowly, “You might feel a slight tingling sensation like pins and needles. It should only last for a moment though. Are you ready?”

Jason nodded and I rested my hands against him. I closed my eyes and concentrated. There were bruises and cuts which I healed with little difficulty. But as I searched there was more, so much more.

“Wow you’re like an iceberg,” I mumbled.

“What?” Jason asked laughter in his tone.

“So much more beneath the surface.”

I felt him tense under my hands, “I guess you could say that.”

I couldn’t talk anymore. All of my energy was going into healing him. Rib fractures. Sprains. Bruised organs. A pinched nerve. Low iron. Low-grade fever. I healed and healed. My exhaustion grew. My eyelids felt like they were being weighed down by sandbags. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t lift my head. Distantly I felt myself leaning forward. But I lost consciousness before my forehead slapped against Jason’s shoulder.

***********************************************************

Jason’s hands quickly reached out to catch the girl as she fell towards him. It seemed like she passed out. Jason anxiously checked her pulse which was strong. She probably just needs some rest. He thought. Because whatever she did to him, Jason felt great. She went beyond the mild injuries and healed more than Jason could hope for. Instantly he was grateful.

He gently eased her back onto her bed. He pulled up her blankets. He plugged her phone into the charger. And he shut off the light. He made his way out the door and into the neighboring room. His room. He and the healer were so close they shared a wall. A foreign feeling popped up for Jason. He liked that she was so close to him. He felt strangely protective of the stranger. It might just be because she healed him. Or maybe it was something else, something undefinable.

Jason banished other thoughts about her as he got dressed. Soon he made his way down the stairs and into the dining room. Where his entire family was yelling and arguing. Ah home sweet home.

***********************************************************

A few days had gone by. I haven’t seen Jason since. I found much to my annoyance that I caught myself looking for him when I heard footsteps. Or thinking about him in my spare time. How embarrassing. You have one tension-filled healing sesh and all of a sudden you can’t think logically.

I paced around the Batcave in my scrubs. I alternated between reading my book, doodling in my notebook, and texting Sam.

[Girl if you don’t tell me more about Mr. Baddie Skunk I’m gonna have a freakout.] Sam texted me.

[I literally told you everything. That was it.]

[He has to be hot for you to say something. Does he have social media? I wanna see this cutie patotie.]

[No, just no, you stalker.]

[I’m not a stalker. I’m looking out for my friend. I may also be curious but that is beside the point.]

I heard and felt the rumble of the Batmobile. [Ttyl. Duty calls.]

I stood in my healer’s station. I double-checked my supplies once, twice, three times before the Batmobile came screeching up. Bruce got out quickly, his cape snapping as he moved. He ripped open the rear door and leaned in. When he came out he held a whimpering Tim in his hands.

I ran up to him with the gurney, “What happened?”

Suddenly Dick was beside me, ripping off his blue mask. “Poison Ivy released a noxious gas created from Manchineel. Tim took the brunt of it.”

I raked my brain trying to remember the properties of Manchineel. In the hospital most of the time we just tell the patient to call poison control. It didn’t matter. Tim’s airway was the top priority. I rested my stethoscope against his chest as we wheeled him closer to the station.

A high-pitched turbulent sound filled my ears. Fuck. Stridor. His airway was closing.

“Bruce go into the red cart top drawer and grab an epi-pen now!” I yelled as I started cutting away his Red Robin suit. I hissed through my teeth when I saw red hives and blisters all along his skin. “Grayson grab saline and rinse his skin! Wear gloves when you do it!”

Bruce deftly handed me the pen and I stuck it quickly into the meat of Tim’s thigh. In a matter of moments, I saw Tim’s breathing even. I listened once again he was still wheezing but it was better than the stridor. Without wasting another minute I rested my hands against Tim’s chest. I ignored the remnants of gas that burned my hands. It took hours but I healed Tim completely. He still was in a deep sleep by the time I was done. His body needed rest. I patched up Bruce and Dick since they also got exposed.

I felt sweat dripping down my back when I was done with everyone.

“Here,” Dick said, handing me water, “drink this you look a little gray.”

I nodded and gripped the water. I winced, forgetting that I burned my hands. It wasn’t as bad as Tim’s by any means but the burns were second-degree and hurt like a bitch.

Dick saw my wince and looked at my hands, “Oh shit! We should wash those off!”

“No shit Grayson.” A flat voice said from the distance. I recognized it instantly. Jason walked up to us, with supplies in his hands. He motioned for Dick to get up. He did and Jason took his spot.

“Let me see.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno @killxz @morpheus-girl @redhood414 @bungunz @conicoroahre @greenyofthegreens @taytaylala12

Thank you guys so much for the kind words I hope you all enjoy it. If there is anything you would like to see with Jason in particular comment below.

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icedb1ackcoffee · 2 months

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Corrupted by Design CH 1 | Feyd-Rautha x Reader

After generations of pillaging and destroying their ecosystem, you are assigned by the Emperor to work on with the Harkonnens to improve their planet’s agriculture as Imperial Ecologist. However, Giedi Prime is far from welcoming, and you must fight to survive the horrors you endure at the hands of the Harkonnens. When you catch the eye of the Baron’s youngest nephew, and most prized possession, you step into a world complicated by politics and revenge.

Tags: Unbeta'd, AFAB Reader, multiple OCs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, enemy to friends to lovers/enemy lovers, slow burn, fake science, blood, violence, gore, body horror, cannibalism, uncle/nephew incest (implied), eventual smut, etc.

A/N: I’ve never read the books, so this is a combination of the Villeneuve films, the Dune Wiki, and a heavy dose of just making shit up lol. I try my best to make Reader as nondescript as possible, but there are mentions of having periods and body hair in later chapters. As a warning up front, this will not have a Happily Ever After ending, but maybe more like Happy For Now?

Please mind the tags; this is very dark, but that comes with the territory.

Chapter One: Like Meat (Spoiled)

Previous Chapter ⦾ Next Chapter

When you first arrived at Giedi Prime, nothing could have adequately prepared you for the shock the harsh environment brought.

Approaching the planet, dark, heavy clouds of pollution choked its atmosphere, seen even from your descent into the atmosphere. Any hope you’d had on your mission here began to wither as you saw the goliath manufacturing plants and landfills that scarred the horizon on all sides. Even the advanced Sardakaur technology on this ship couldn’t soften the harsh winds. Could this be the reason why they accepted you— a last-ditch effort to salvage whatever was left of this godforsaken planet…?

When you landed, you rose unsteadily to your feet and grabbed your luggage. Two large bags and one satchel tied at your waist. The rest unloaded off the ship, full of your tools and plants. Your entire life packed away, always ready for the next move. An escort accompanied you off ship, the rest staying inside. Not that you would blame them; if it was not required of you, you would not leave, either.

#dune fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #afab reader #austin butler #austin butler x reader #feyd rautha x oc #i'm not a scientist but there is some science fuckery afoot #i listened to so much dark techno and gregorian chants while writing this lmao my spotify wrapped is gonna be fucked up #i wrote 14k words in like 1 week to say i have feyd brain rot would be an understatement #welcome to the wonderful world of me not knowing how to shut up!#feyd x reader #betty writes #cor #corrupted by design

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forever-rogue · 9 months

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Hello there Bee, your writing for Miguel O'Hara was perfect, thank you so much for it 🫂

I was wondering if you could do one where he's so deeply in love with her but doesn't want to tell her because he's afraid of being rejected, he wants to protect her so they always go to missions together until one day she gets hurt and because he's afraid of loosing her, he finally tells her how he's been feeling for a long time

Thank you so much c:

AN | It’s been a minute but here we are with some more grumpy x sunshine! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Nondescript mentions of violence, Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Inhale. Exhale.

That's what you kept repeating to yourself as you approached the front doors to the Spider Headquarters. Your heart beat around your chest but you tried to push away all your worries and insecurities.

Well - the one major worry you had anyway. Most things didn't scare you anymore, you were well past that point in your life. It was one singular person that made you nervous. Miguel O'Hara.

The man that appeared to hate you more than anything or anyone else. You weren't even sure what you had done to bring on the hatred but it had appeared slowly at first and then all at once. Now you just tried to avoid him as much as you could, but in the event that you were faced with him, you tried to be as kind as possible. There was no reason to be mean, right? You hoped that one day Miguel might get that memo as well.

When you got inside, you looked around and tried to see if anything seemed out of place or…if there was some sort of chaos. But it all seemed utterly normal so you walked towards your little desk area.

"Hey there!" You startled at the sound of Peter's bright and happy voice, spinning around in your chair to find him watching you with an overly cheery smile, "how're you today?"

"I'm just peachy, Pete. What's going on?" The man's face flushed and you knew immediately that something was going on. He was so easy to read despite his best efforts.

"Umm…well," he waved his hands around for a moment, stammering nervous as you just stared at him, "well, I don't…your day might get worse."

"Oh?" You leaned back in your chair as you raised an eyebrow at him, "and just why is that? What do you know that I don't?"

"You're supposed to be partnered with…Miguel today," he said it so quickly that you almost didn't catch it. But the name stood out so clearly that you were immediately able to figure out what was going on, "just so you know, you know?"

"How do you know that?"

"Word spreads fast around here," he volunteered lamely, as you sighed at him, "and ugh, it might be my fault."

"What?!" He was afraid of exactly this reaction and flinched slightly, "Peter - why?"

"I have to be home today," he cleared his throat, "big family thing with MJ and Mayday. So…you know."

"Fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, "fine. Only because I love your wife and daughter as much if not more than you."

"I am so sorry," he grimaced, "I'll make it up to you somehow."

"It's…it's fine," you swallowed the lump in your throat. It did suck…but you'd live and would just be as kind as usual. And it would be over before you knew it, "this is going to be…fantastic."

“Just don’t kill each other and it should all be fine,” Peter kept taking a few steps back, creating a further distance between the two of you, “and then we can all resume our normal programming next week!”

“I don’t hate him,” your voice softened as a frown tugged down the corners of your mouth. You truly didn’t hate him and you hated the idea that people would think you did. You always tried to treat everyone with the same kindness and you were known for being a ray of sunshine, “I think… I think he might hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Peter shrugged slightly as you sighed lightly, “he’s just that way with everyone. He’s a huge douche, you know that.”

“As much as I appreciate your opinions Parker,” both of you froze at the sound of his voice. He sounded just as annoyed and frustrated as ever, “I believe you were supposed to leave already to get back to your wife and daughter, no?”

“Uhh, yup…that’s…gotta go!” he looked between the two of you before offering you a small grimace and turning to basically sprint away. You bit the inside of your cheek before turning your attention to the man in question.

“Miguel, I-”

“Get suited up,” he didn’t even spare you an actual glance. He merely caught your eye before turning around to leave again, “we’re leaving in twenty. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Miguel.”

“Don’t be late,” he was already walking away again and all you could do was sigh, “or I will leave with you.”

Yeah, okay, cool, cool, cool. This apparently was going to be the absolute worst; part of you was almost tempted to be late just so you wouldn’t have to go. You weren’t feeling very welcome but at the same time, your duties were important and you weren’t about to let him go alone.

“Well then,” you attempted to psych yourself up, “let’s do this…and get it over with.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Miguel had been silent, to the point of it being almost eerie, besides giving you some instructions and directions. You'd tried to make some small talk at the start but the only responses you received were grunts or scoffs. It had definitely deflated your mood and after a while you gave up and remained silent.

"Hey," Miguel waved his hand in front of your face as you snapped back into attention. You hadn't realized you'd spaced out so much, "are you even paying attention?"

"Y-yeah…yes," you offered him a tight smile as he hung his head with a heavy sigh, "sorry. Could you just run that by me again?"

"I need you to focus," he caught your eye and there was a dangerous glint to him that caused you to swallow thickly, "otherwise I'll send you right back and this is the last time you'll get to go on a mission."

"That's not fair!" You hadn't meant to sound like a petulant child, but at least you hadn't also stomped your foot. His jaw twitched as he glared at you, "you've never said that to anyone-"

"Morales."

"He's a child," you ran a hand through your hair in exasperation, "this isn't fair, Miguel and you know that. Why do you hate me so much?"

If you'd been looking at his face you'd have noticed the way his face fell momentarily. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control the squeaking and stop the tears that threatened to well up.

"You're also so mean to me!" Alright. Maybe you were already sounding hysterical but it was a lot of emotions at once, "its always me! I try to be nice, Miguel. I don't like not being nice, it's just…not in my nature. But you make it so hard. A-and I'm not asking for anything spectacular, just a hello once a while or at least don't totally ignore me when I'm talking to you!"

“Are you finished?” his tone was the same as it always was: cold and calm and calculated. You tried to blink away the burning of your eyes.

“No,” you put your hands on your hips and stared him down, “if you’re going to be mean to me or act like I’m the worst thing in the world, can you at least tell me what I did to offend you so much? I mean - why even have me working with you and the rest of the team if you don’t trust me or think I’m worthy of being here! If I’m such a horrible person, just cut me loose and let me go so you never have to see me again!”

By the time you were done, angry tears had run down your cheeks which you hastily brushed away. You felt like you had just put your heart and feelings on the line and he didn’t seem phased. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow before sighing heavily, “if you’re done, we’ve got some bad guys to catch.”

“Y-you’re not even going to say anything to what I just said?” your lip trembled with effort not to cry further. He’d already turned his back to you and started to walk away. Only this time, you didn’t run after him to catch up, “fine! You know what? I quit! Do this yourself!”

You didn’t even wait for a response before turning on your heel and walking in the other direction. You were already out of sight by the time Miguel turned around and realized that you’d been serious. He ran a hand over his face in exasperation before stomping after you, muttering under his breath. He hadn’t wanted this at all; especially because this meant that he couldn’t keep any eye on you.

“Hey!” you’d been walking around for a bit when you finally heard the angry voice. Your shoulders stiffened when you realized that Miguel had found you. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of falling back to him, you kept walking with your head held high. But then you felt a harsh hand wrap your bicep and pull you back.

“What the f-”

“Finally,” oh. That voice definitely wasn’t Miguel. You slowly turned around and found yourself with…well, the bad guy. He looked at you with a wicked smile that caused goosebumps to well up all over your skin, “I’ve been looking for you, little Spider. Only I was hoping you’d be with that big, dumb guy.”

“Listen buddy,” you tried to pull out of his iron grasp to no avail, “I’m already having a shitty day and I don’t need you making it worse. The big dumb guy isn’t around, it’s just me unfortunately. And I recommend you let me go before I make you regret your decision.”

“You’re so funny,” he leaned closer so he was almost face to face with you. He smelled terrible and looked even worse; the worst realization of all was that he was a murderer…and you were alone with him, “you really think you could stop me all by yourself? So cute.”

He reached out and ran his hand along your jaw, instantly making you feel disgusting and gross. Your heart started beating rapidly and you willed yourself to regain your muster and strength. It should have been so easy to overpower him, but he was surprisingly strong. That was one of the worst things about dealing with other powered beings…someone always had the upper hand.

“Let me go,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” he took your jaw harshly in his hand turned your face to his, “help me catch Miguel O’Hara and I’ll let you go.”

“Nope,” you might not have been in the Miguel fanclub at this point but you weren’t about to betray him or put anyone else at risk. You figured that the longer you were able to stall, it might give Miguel more time to get to you and take him. You’d never hear the end of it, but it was better than nothing, “sorry buddy.”

“Bitch!” he let go and pushed you back before striking you across the face, causing you to stumble and trip over your feet. You feel onto your backside with a groan before touching your stinging face, “it could have been so easy! We both want the same thing - to get rid of the Spider!”

“I don’t want to get rid of him,” you tried to scramble to your feet as he loomed over you but your hope was quickly starting to dissipate, “he-he’s fine! The only person I want to get rid of you is you!”

“Too bad,” he cackled before shrugging his shoulders, “I hate to break the news to you, but you’re not getting rid of me. I’ll be getting rid of you…and eventually that big idiot will come looking for you and then I’ll have him too. A two or one deal - can you imagine? What a dream!”

“Hate to break it to you,” your hands before getting scraped up as you tried to pull yourself out of his reach, “but he’s not going to come looking for me. He doesn’t care that much.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” you couldn’t hold back the scream that escaped your lips as he stepped on your ankle and crushed it under his boot, “you’re a pretty face, that’s enough for most men to come running. It’s almost a shame to kill you but-”

The next thing you heard was a sickening crack before the pressure on your ankle was gone. You opened your eyes and looked around the alley, only to find your would-be murderer on the ground and bleeding. A choked up sound escaped your lips as you looked up to find Miguel standing over you.

You prepared yourself for him to begin yelling but, to your immense surprise, it never came. Instead you watched dumbly as he bent down and scooped into your arms and stood back up with you clutched to his chest.

He studied you for a moment before tenderly wiping away the little bit of blood that had trickled down from the corner of your mouth. You had never realized that he could actually have such a gente touch.

For a few moments he walked in silence before letting a heavy sigh and shaking his head, “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Your brow furrowed in surprise but you remained silent. Your head felt foggy and you weren’t sure you wanted to push anything just yet. All you wanted to do was go home and get some rest.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed since the incident with Miguel and you felt well recovered, except for the faint bruising that remained on your face. Really, though, that was the least of your worries. Ever since then, you’d been trying your best to avoid Miguel, while continuing to be surprised that he hadn’t booted you from the team yet.

“Hey,” you froze at the sound of his voice and turned around to find Miguel standing at the edge of your cubicle space. You swallowed thickly before squeaking out a response that made you cringe internally, “can we talk?”

“Umm…yes?” you looked at him and waited for him to make the next move. He turned and motioned for you to follow him. It felt like some sort of walk of shame as you trailed after him like a puppy. He didn’t stop, ignoring the whispers and titters from the other Spider-People as he beelined for his office. You kept your gaze trained on your feet and almost ran into him when he suddenly stopped, “oof.”

“Sorry,” you’d never heard him apologize before. Odd. He closed the door behind and leaned against it, “listen, I think we need to clear some things up.”

“We do?”

“Mhmm,” this time he found it difficult to look in your eyes as you hopped up and sat at the edge of his desk, swinging your legs, “I just…I don’t want you to think that I hate you know or ever hated you. It’s never been like that.”

“Could have fooled me,” you shrugged slightly, already having made peace with his dislike of you.

“I know, I…fuck,” he ran a hand over his face in exasperation, “It was supposed to be easier this way.”

“What way?”

“If you hated me,” he finally managed to get out as you blinked at him owlishly, “then it would have made it easier for him to keep my distance.”

“But I don’t hate you,” you shook your head, “I don’t hate anyone…and I could never hate you.”

“Even now?” he chuckled harshly, “when you definitely should?”

“Even now,” you confirmed you heard his small exhale of relief, “now I just…I guess I’m just confused as to how you do feel about me.”

“When you left me and I couldn’t find you and then…when you’d been hurt…I thought…” he trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. You let his words sink in and tried to process the meaning behind him, “I didn’t know what I would do if anything had happened to you. All I could think about was beating that bastard to a bloody pulp.”

“Oh,” the gears were definitely turning as you came closer and closer to your conclusion. And then it hit you all at once and your entire face turned warm. You looked over at Miguel and could see that his cheeks were a darkened pink, “oh.”

“Umm…yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck nervously before nodding slightly, “I just never know what to do or say. I-I’ve never been good with words. Keeping people at a distance makes things easier. If there’s no attachment then there’s no room or heartbreak.”

“I understand that,” you agreed softly, “but that’s no way to live.”

“I’m starting to see that,” he allowed himself to meet your eye and the two of you exchanged shy smiles, “so I guess I just wanted to say sorry.”

“Is that all you wanted to say?” you felt a little bolder now, nerves buzzing with everyone he had said and things that were left unspoken.

“No,” he agreed, “but it’s a good starting point, I think.”

“Yeah,” you nodded softly, “I think so too.”

“Cool,” he ran a hand through his hair nervously, “cool. Listen, I…want to do this right. So can I umm, do you want to-”

“Yes,” you slid off the desk and almost skipped over to him, “I’d love to.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara one shot #spider man 2099 #oscar isaac #spider-man

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onefleshonepod · 2 years

Text

Strange Names in Nona the Ninth

Nona’s gang of kids, plus the Angel, all appear to have weird names because they are Nona’s transliterations of their names in their native languages into the language of the Nine Houses.

Hot Sauce nodded. Nona guessed again, “Born in the Morning.” “You mean Born in the Morning,” said Hot Sauce. “That’s what I said,” said Nona.

There are seventeen local languages (according to Ianthe) on New Rho. Nona can speak all of them, without really understanding what she’s doing, so she understands the names she hears and the meaning of these names to be synonymous.

Nona understood everybody, and could speak back to them so that they understood her, and nobody ever said she had an accent. This confounded Palamedes. When she first said that she could speak back by watching them talk and making her lips look like theirs, it confounded him so much more that it gave Camilla a headache.

(I think the same thing’s going on with The Building that Troia cell lives in; I think it’s a word in another language that means building and is used as an official name for the building, but I have no guesses as to what that could be.)

I believe Nona is able to do this both because she is Alecto, who plays the role of the Holy Spirit in Tamsyn's Catholic Trinity 2.0, and the Holy Spirit gave the Apostles the gift of tongues during Pentecost, and because she is the soul of Earth. The languages spoken on New Rho presumably came from Earth, so of course she can speak all of them!

This is my attempt to reverse engineer all of these names into House / English.

The Angel / The Messenger

BOE calls Aim "the Messenger" and the children and Nona call her "the Angel.”

We Suffer: “Usually you both meeting up with the Messenger, whom you call the Angel, would have been very bad.”

When the Angel first appears, her name is playing on the meaning of “angel” as a caring and godly being – the reader gets that it would make sense for children who love her to see her as an angel, so this remark flies under on the radar:

The Angel was what they called the nondescript, washed-out, dusty-haired personage who came to teach the Hour of Science. Why they called her the Angel was unclear.

But it is clear why they call her The Angel! It comes from a word with two meanings: the Greek word “angelos” originally meant “messenger” and later took on the meaning of “angel” or “messenger of God,” so all names originating from this word have both of those meanings.

Names originating from “angelos” include Angela (English, Spanish), Aniela (Polish), Aingeal (Irish), Anděla (Czech), Andjela (Serbian), Angèle (French), Angiola (Italian), Anzhela (Russian), and diminutives like Angelina.

The name is intended by BOE to mean Messenger, because of her societal role, but Nona is translating the other meaning of her name, Angel, because that meaning is what makes more sense to her given the way she sees and loves the Angel.

It's also possible that BOE has a more formal version of this name as a title for the Messenger and the children's "the Angel" which Nona hears as distinct from "the Messenger" is a diminutive or less formal version of the same name.

Born in the Morning

This name could be Sabah (Arabic), Akinyi (Luo from Kenya), or Asa (Japanese), all names which mean “morning” and more specifically “born in the morning.”

Honesty

This is a bit more difficult and I’m really not sure about any of these. There are quite a few boys' names meaning “honesty.” There are even more names that mean “honest” or “truthful,” but for strictly the noun “honesty” we have these names:

Pheakdei (Khmer, from Cambodia); Satyam, Onnesha, and Sachh (Hindi); Zaka and Sadaqat (Arabic); and Onestà or Onesto (Italian).

I don’t speak any of these languages, so I can’t comment on which name is most likely, and there are probably also way more possibilities that I missed in my deep dive into 457 baby name websites and dictionary translations!

Edit: I've seen "Frank" suggested a lot as a potential name, but I don't think this is likely, because "Honesty" is a noun, and "Frank" is an adjective. I think if Tamsyn intended the name to be a transliteration of "Frank" she would have used the adjective "Honest," not the noun "Honesty " – she doesn't seem the type to overlook something like that.

Beautiful Ruby

I think this name is probably just two names, in an unknown language, one meaning “beautiful” and one meaning “ruby.”

Unfortunately, there are millions of possibilities here and I can’t find any combination that particularly jumps out. If you have more thoughts on this please let me know!

Hot Sauce

Hot Sauce, of course – as a delightful choice that only serves to confuse the reader more with respect to all of these names – is literally just named Hot Sauce. You CAN put it on rice and you CAN put it on bread!!

#nona the ninth #ntnspoilers #ntn spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #the angel #the messenger #aim #honesty #beautiful ruby #born in the morning #hot sauce #nona #edited to fix my misconception that lemuria and new rho are the same #ours

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 10 months

Note

Hi JJ :] could I make a request for a din x reader fic? It’s just dancing with him (I have a feeling that you’re a swiftie so I’m gonna say inspired by dancing with our hands tied)

anyway thank you for considering this! Love you very much :]

[a/n: lolol spot on, my friend. I am in fact a swiftie and i forgot how much i loved this song until i re-listened to it. it's technically not just dancing, i got carried away as i always do, but dancing does happen so....]

Mandalor!Din Djarin x Royal Female!Reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual history, so smut adjacent?, arranged marriage, technically cheating b/c reader is engaged (but she's never even met the dude so does it even really count?)

Word Count: 1,885

Summary: Your love came with an expiration date. Doomed to fail from the second you met him.

DEEP BLUE, BUT YOU PAINTED ME GOLDEN

"I'd kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down. I'd hold you as the water rushes in, if I could dance with you again." ⏤ Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Taylor Swift)

Your world ended the moment you met Din Djarin.

For all of your life, you were the perfect royal daughter. You followed the rules, wrapped around you like chains, with no struggle. Picture perfect and sinless. Raised to be a representation of your kingdom and a political token to be bartered. It was all you had known, and you never complained. You loved your parents, your family, your people, and if being tied to a stranger in marriage helped them in some way you would do it.

You never questioned that sacrifice. Not until a meeting, held by your father, brought together rulers from all the neighboring worlds in hopes to unify and create alliances. When the Mandalor walked in, you felt a shift in your very soul. There was no logical reason why. He was decked, head to toe, in brilliant beskar armor⏤ a thick, red robe hanging off one shoulder. His presence alone had changed everything, and when your father made introductions and you heard Mandalor Din Djarin speak your name in his low, modulated voice, you knew nothing would be the same again. You learned that night that he felt the same pull you did. Involuntary and irresistible.

Din Djarin woke you from a slumber you didn’t know you existed in. Your life had been shades of gray and blue for so long that it seemed to be all you were capable of. Someone who had never seen the sun would never miss or crave the light. But, he painted your world in color. Red shades of passion, golden shades of pleasure, and cool beskar silver.

The two of you took every opportunity and more to see one another. Nobody in either of your lives suspected anything. You were an obedient, royal daughter betrothed to a prince, and Din was the well respected Mandalor who would find a riddur in another Mandalorian. In their eyes, nothing would ever come from that beyond friendship and a strong alliance between your worlds. However, when their eyes looked away, behind closed doors, those lines were blurred. The lines didn’t even exist.

It was hard to find the sin in this relationship when Din had his head buried between your legs. There wasn’t an ounce of regret in your soul every time you laid in the dark listening to Din’s deep, hoarse voice murmur and grunt praises in your ear as he drove his cock overwhelmingly deep into you. The warmth of his tongue on your skin, the taste of his cum lingering in your mouth, the feel of his strong hands exploring every inch of you⏤ it was a pleasure you hadn’t thought possible in the life destined for you. The only time guilt seeped into you was when the passion slowed down. When you laid on your belly, bare, as Din’s heavy and hot body laid on top of you with his uncovered face buried in the crook of your neck. Din would wrap his arms around you lovingly and whisper about a future the two of you could never have. A home with land on a quiet, nondescript world where neither of you had to hide your love and a family could be started. It was a life you didn’t know you wanted until you met Din. For the first time in your life, you wanted something and the guilt of that desire ate you alive.

This dance continued for nearly a year before your lives dragged you apart.

It was time for you to meet your fiance and move forward with your engagement. Saying goodbye to Din was heart wrenching. What hurt the most was that it was a goodbye neither of you truly wanted. It was responsibility to the worlds you came from that pulled you apart. Leaving one another felt like fighting gravity itself.

“My daughter, smile.” Your mother cooed as she reached out to readjust the mask covering your upper face. It matched the gown you currently wore. When your engagement party was planned, multiple themes were offered to you and you passively went with whatever your parents thought was best. Which turned out to be a Masquerade. Not that it mattered. No party would lift your spirits. “What’s wrong?”

“I guess I’m just nervous to meet the prince.” You replied simply. The party was in full swing and your fiance would be here any minute now. A hiccup in his travel plans made him late, but not late enough to cancel the party unfortunately. It was still in full swing with a mass of masked people dancing happily.

Your mother chuckled and cupped your face, “Don’t be nervous. The prince will be a good match for you. We made sure to pick someone kind and fair. Someone who will be good to you.”

You forced a tight lipped smile and nodded. Your parents were good people, and you had no doubt they picked a man who they thought would be best for you. But, how well did your parents really know you these days? You weren’t the woman you were this time last year. You wondered if you could ever be her again. It was unlikely.

After your mother wandered away, you drifted through the room speaking to those who greeted you first. Playing the role you were born to play. Mid way through the room a hand wrapped around your wrist and you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. You had the feel of Din’s palm on your skin memorized. An ache overcame you at the touch, and you bit down on your lower lip⏤ refusing to turn around. He drifted closer, hovering dangerously close while in public like this, and you shook your head. “Mandalor, you can’t be here.”

You hoped using his title would make addressing him easier. It didn’t help.

Din leaned down and spoke, his voice unmodulated but muted, “I am not the Mandalor, ka’ra’ika.”

Curious, you finally turned and your eyes widened to see Din was not dressed in his beskar. His broad frame was dressed in a simple suit, nothing to make him stand out in a crowd, and his face was covered with a full face mask. His eyes hidden behind a line of dark glass and the rest painted in shades of black and white. “What are…” You paused in shock. Din’s loose, dark curls peeked around his mask and even with confusion swirling all about, your mind involuntarily memorized the color. It was a habit. Every single detail you were given about the man in front of you was tucked away like a well hidden secret. “Why are you here?”

“Dance with me?” Din asked in a voice that was borderline pleading. “Please?”

You nodded once and let him drag you slowly toward where the other bodies danced in an organized crowd. Din pulled you in close so the two of you could sway. You rested one hand on his shoulder while he held your other. It took every ounce of self control in your body to not lift your hand and rake your fingers through his hair. Din spun you around the dance floor, and a slow smile graced your lips for the first time all night. Din brought with him a glow. Being with him just seemed to brighten your world. Din lifted his arm to spin you⏤ your dress flared out around you, and a laugh bubbled out of your lungs. You heard his deep chuckle before he dipped you low. When he brought you back up, you were flush with his chest and your hands rested there. His heartbeat under your palm grounded you, but with it came guilt and the painful reminder that this was fleeting.

“My fiance will be here soon, Din.” You murmured. “You’re only making this harder.”

“I can’t walk away from this. From you.”

You shook your head, hands grasping the lapels of his suit, “We were doomed from the start. We knew that.” Your eyes burned with unshed tears. “With our beginning came an end date. And we’ve… we’ve reached it.”

“No.” Din’s hands slid down to grip your hips as he pulled you in closer. You sucked in a sharp breath. This wasn’t proper. “We’ve been living by rules set by our responsibilities and by outside factors when we should be the ones to decide. We should get to choose who we love.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Don’t. Don’t say it.” Now, it was you pleading. The two of you never used that word. You felt it, it changed you, but admitting it out loud would be too real for something destined to end. So you both agreed to leave it an unspoken truth. A phrase only whispered when the other wasn’t listening. “Din, please…”

“I have a… a proposition.” Din said. “I’ve made my choice, but now I want you to make yours.”

“What do you mean?”

Din leaned in close, “We can run, ka’ra’ika. This doesn’t have to be the end of our story. It can be a new beginning.”

“Din, we can’t.” You shook your head. “You’re Mandalor⏤”

“No. I’m not. I’ve renounced the title.” Din admitted. Your eyes widened and your jaw popped open to question him, but no words left your lips. “I’ve passed it on.”

“Why would you…” You gasped. “Din, you don’t even know what my choice will be.”

“That’s alright. I made my choice on my own accord.”

“What if I say no? Then what, Din? You gave up your title⏤”

“If you say no,” Din began, “Which you are well within your rights to do, then giving up my title was simply the price to pay.” You furrowed your brow and you could hear the soft smile in his voice. “The price to pay for one last moment with you.”

The lights suddenly went out and you jumped in surprise. One of Din’s hands left your waist and seconds later Din’s lips were at your ears. It was then you realized this cover of darkness was not accidental, it came at the hands of the man holding you.

“If you send me away, I’ll never bother you again, I give you my word.” Din whispered in your ear and the sound alone made your eyes flutter close. A soft breath leaving your lips. “But I would regret it for the rest of my life, if I didn’t tell you how much I love you.” You felt tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. Hearing those words in his voice, just like when you first heard him speak your name, caused a shift in your soul. Din pressed his lips to a spot on your neck right below your ear. “If I didn’t beg you for one last kiss.”

Without hesitation, you dug your hands into his hair and pulled his lips to yours. It was muscle memory. You knew the taste of him and you welcomed it. His warm hand gripped the back of your neck as his tongue licked into your mouth. You moaned and tried to pull him closer as if he wasn’t already tangled with you. The taste of your tears mingled in the kiss.

Din pulled back and let his thumb brush under the edges of your mask to swipe at the tears that leaked down your cheeks. In that moment, you whispered your truth.

"I love you."

When the lights came on, there were two less bodies in the mass of confused dancers, and the expensive and delicate mask of the royal daughter laid on the ballroom floor⏤ carelessly tossed aside.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #female reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you

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alpineglow · 2 months

Note

do you think you could write for Yelena Belova x reader Sharing their first kiss?

ofc!! I adore a cute little fluff fic like this, they are DELECTABLE!! also I hope y'all enjoy the fact that all my fic titles are Taylor lyrics, idk why I always love people who have super cohesive title themes. Also sorry if this is OOC or anything! I wrote this all in one go at like 10pm LMAO.

The First Kiss, It's Flawless

Ship: Yelena Belova x Reader Word Count: ~1.8k Description: Yelena's got a crush on you. She wants it to be perfect. Who better to ask than her older sister? (Spoiler: Many people are better to ask) A/N: NOTHING BUT SILLY ROMANTIC FUN FOR MY GIRLS BC THEY DESERVE THE WORLD

Masterlist

11:30am, Manhattan

"Natasha, I'm being serious," Yelena groans, shoving her face into her hands. Her sister was sat next to her on the edge of her bed, awkwardly patting Yelena on the back. When her sister asked for help, and to come to her Brooklyn apartment as soon as possible, the last thing she expected it to be for was romantic struggles.

"And I'm being serious too! You just go with the flow," Natasha says, sighing softly as her free hand pinches her brow.

"That's easy for you to say! Maria asked YOU out!" Yelena was definitely growing more frustrated, owed to the way she flopped her body back onto her bed and pulled a pillow over her face. Natasha rolls her eyes, pulling the pillow away. She earned herself a few daggers glared in return.

"Yelena, Y/N is sweet. The worst they can say is no."

"That's what you and everyone else say! I can think of so many worse things that could-"

There it was, the list of reasons she couldn't take the leap about to tumble forth. Natasha knew it all too well. It was incredibly impressive how in every other aspect of their lives, Yelena led with her head held high. This was a vast departure from that. So, with a sigh, Natasha stood up, stretching, and grabbing her keys and phone from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Yelena asked hastily, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"Going to play matchmaker." It was a simple plan, really. Feign confused sibling, apologise if it wasn't the case. Easy operation, in and out. To Yelena though, it wasn't.

"Are you out of your mind?" Thankfully, the door was shut, meaning Yelena's shout didn't have the chance to escape the room and echo down the hallways of the apartment building.

"No- Seriously, you have nothing to freak out about! I figure it out for you, and make the opening!"

Before Yelena could object, Natasha was out of the door.

---

Natasha had asked to meet you at some nondescript coffee shop by Central Park. It wasn't out of the ordinary, meeting an Avenger in some otherwise innocuous location. Unlike other times though, this did seem like a genuine encounter. When you arrived, Natasha was already sat outside, with two coffees on a wire table.

"Hey, Nat! It's been a while!"

You'd been friends with the redhead for nearing a decade now - working with the Avengers as an intelligence officer on several occasions. On the third or fourth time, Natasha had taken a shining to you, and the pair of you became close friends.

Being close friends, she had, of course, gotten your coffee order dead on. It was a welcomed warmth in the late winter in New York.

"How've you been, Y/N?" she asks, taking a swig of her coffee. From there, the conversation flowed naturally, as if you'd seen each other yesterday. It was nice, pleasant even. You felt yourself relax into it, smiling as the odd joke came to light.

"Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?"

You furrow your brow, nodding.

"Of course?"

"Forgive me, if I'm overstepping, but I couldn't help but notice- You and Yelena? Are you two-"

A blush blooms across your face, and up your neck. You try and hide it with a sip of your coffee, but you fail miserably, choking slightly.

"What? Oh- No! No, no, no. We're just friends." You laugh nervously, coughing a few times. When you finally meet Natasha's eyes, there's a good natured humour in them. And, obviously, she had seen right through you.

"Is it that obvious?" you say, a frown meeting your expression. You'd thought you had been subtle.

"Afraid so," Natasha replies. This was good news, great news for her sister. An idea sparked though. She'd have to beg Yelena for her forgiveness though.

"You know... Yelena's free this Friday night."

Your brow furrows.

"I don't follow?"

Natasha laughs, setting her empty coffee cup on the table.

"Ask her on a date. I promise it'll go well."

Things clicked into place for you, and you roll your eyes. This was a double agent case. But that meant Yelena liked you back... Oh my god. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Hey! I had to play it cool, in case you didn't like her. Would've been really awkward if I was straight up and you weren't into her."

You couldn't argue with that logic. Finally, you find Yelena's contact on your phone, and type up a quick message.

Are you free Friday?

There's a short delay, albeit a touch too short, before Yelena responds.

Yes. Are you suggesting something?

How about a movie at mine? 7pm. Keep it casual. Like a casual date.

Yelena takes a little longer to respond this time. You hear Natasha's phone ding, and look up in time to see her laugh.

"She just called me a motherfucker."

---

Friday came all too quickly, and you found your palms sweating. You're not sure why. Your intentions had been perfectly clear when you messaged Yelena and asked her out. She knew what this was, and you did too. And it wasn't like you didn't know her - you'd warmed up to each other quite quickly once Natasha had introduced you both. Being closer in age to the younger of the sisters would do that.

To top it all off, you already had Natasha's approval. So there was nothing to be afraid of, right?

It was just you and Yelena, in your living room, watching a film.

Romantically.

Not as friends. Very very not as friends.

The microwave beeped from your kitchen, yelling at you that the popcorn had finished.

God, what am I doing?

The microwave opens with a thud when you pull the handle, grabbing the popcorn by the very corner. Holding it over the sink, you shake it a few times to disperse the butter, and get the kernels out. Fondly, you remembered it was Yelena who'd actually taught you that trick.

Finally, you dump it into a large bowl, and take it over to the living room. Netflix was already pulled up. You hadn't yet settled on what film to watch, and you'd be damned if you picked it on your own. Risk her not liking it. On your first date. The very thought sent a shudder through you.

You couldn't linger on it for too long, because the doorbell rung.

"Fuck! 7pm already," you whisper-shout to yourself, carefully dodging around the couch to get to the front door. Habitually, you look through the peephole. You're greeted with a fisheye view of the blonde, and open the door.

"Yelena! Hey!"

Why the fuck are you saying that like you didn't expect to see her. You literally invited her here.

Thankfully, she looked as nervous as you felt. Yelena smiled though, holding up a bag of M&M's.

"Hi. I brought these! Makes popcorn better," she said. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Yea, of course, sorry!" you jumble out, stepping out of her way. You lock the door behind her as you close it, and follow her as she's already made her was to the living room.

"I didn't know what you wanted to watch, but I made popcorn!"

You're nervously fidgeting with your hands, surveying the living room situation. There were plenty of blankets, and pillows. The coffee table was in reach, with popcorn, and the new bag of M&Ms. You're too busy worrying to catch the soft look Yelena sends your way.

"We can pick off of your Letterboxd, don't you have that watch list? Movies are more your thing," she jokes, settling down with a pillow and blanket in the corner.

You agree, pulling out your phone and settling on the lounge. You're a little too tense, and sitting an almost awkward distance away from her. Not quite in her space, but not quite in yours either. You rattle off a few titles, and don't notice her creeping nearer until a hand rests on your forearm. You look at her.

"How about that one?" she asks, pointing to a movie poster on your phone. You become aware of how close she is.

"Yea... That'll work."

---

It'd happened almost 20 minutes ago now, but your knee was touching Yelena's under the blanket. It felt like electricity arcing up your body when it first happened, but now it had settled to a soft warmth. A pleasant warmth.

When the end credits rolled, Yelena stayed still for a while. Wrapped up in a blanket, leant against the armrest of the sofa.

"Wow. That was a good movie. Good taste," she said, sitting up. You liked the way her accent wove the words together. It made such a simple statement feel like the highest praise.

"Yea!" you say, standing up to take the bowl to the kitchen. "I'm glad I got to watch it with you." It's a tad sappy, but you meant it. Couldn't hurt to say on a first date.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asks from the living room, where she'd rolling up the blanket she had used. Your eyes stray to the microwave, which reads 10:30pm. You relay that information to her.

"Your place is pretty far away... I have a guest room you can use?"

"My my! Getting me to stay the night on our first date, that's very bold."

If she were anyone else, and if you'd known her for any less time, you would've panicked. A faux pas, and you would've passed out. But you could spot the jest in her tone. When you come back to the living room, she's smiling.

"I'd actually really appreciate that," Yelena says. Her tone is lower than before; more authentic. More tender. Simply more.

"Thank you for coming tonight." She looks at you, regarding you with a warmth that went just a step beyond friendship. A new dash of vulnerability.

Her hand rests on your outer forearm that's by your side. It was a sweet touch, an innocent one, too. But it felt perfect. Everything in this moment felt right, and you felt at ease.

"Can I kiss you?" Yelena asks. If you listened closely enough, dissected it with the proverbial knife, there was a touch of fear in her tone. You hadn't heard it, though.

Rather than answering, you lean forward, capturing her lips in yours. Like everything else, it felt right. It was chaste, and didn't last long enough. But for now it would be enough. It was more a promise. A beckoning call forward, a waiting hand.

Yelena's smiling when you pull away. You find yourself smiling too.

You show her to her room for the evening, and before you go to return to your own, you call out behind you.

"Night, Yelena!

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Hope y'all enjoyed! Like I said, I wrote this in one take at night, so forgive any mistakes! Requests are open!!

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #marvel #x reader

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runningfrom2am · 9 months

Text

all i think about is karma

summary: you and rafe take on a mainland bush party where he knows no one, and you know too many people for his liking.

this can be read as a stand-alone but it's technically a part four to getaway car, big reputation, and this is why we can’t have nice things.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

tags/warnings: jealous!rafe, highschool au, (some) nondescript nudity, cursing, mean kook!reader, underage drinking, (i think that’s it??)

a/n: hey y’all!! sorry i haven’t posted anything in a little while, i’ve been busy but now im back home and on my usual schedule so there shouldn’t be any serious interruptions for a little while. i missed y’all and i hope you like this! this is what won my getaway car poll quite some time ago so im so happy to finally get it out!

"No, Y/N/N, I'll be fine. I don't want to dampen your week, you'll have so much fun!" Bella insists, adjusting where her phone is laying in her lap while she lays in bed, surrounded by tissues and snack wrappers. She came down with the flu at the worst possible time: right before you were meant to go on your spring break trip.

"It won't be the same without you! I should just stay home, I can come over and we can have a movie marathon or something. That'll be just as fun." You reply, watching her through the facetime camera while you sit at your vanity.

"No. Absolutely not. You're going- and you'll get to hangout with Rafe! It's worth it for me to get all the juicy details after." Bella giggles, sniffling and quickly wiping her nose.

You roll your eyes, rubbing your forehead. "Okay, yeah, but nothings gonna happen- you know I swore that off."

"Yeah, whatever. The two of you, alone, drunk and sharing a tent? Whatever you say." Your friend teases you. "It's actually worth it for me to stay home so you can come back with tea."

"Okay, fine," You agree, not admitting that the idea is very tempting. "But I'm not sleeping with him again."

"No! Of course not." Bella laughs, shaking her head. "But if you did, at least be safe this time. We don't need a repeat of what happened last time-"

"Okay! Okay! Bye, Bella I'll call you later!" You quickly cut her off, hanging up the phone.

Several long hours after texting Rafe the update that Bella wasn't going to make it, you found yourself in his truck on the mainland, driving into what seems to be the middle of nowhere for a bush party you caught word of from some friends you met playing soccer on a local team. You were excited to see them, and meet some new people, but you're honestly so glad Rafe still wanted to go. You'd rather not go alone if you didn't have to.

Judging by the large space in front of you full of various groups of kids your age putting tents together or starting fires around makeshift campsites at the edge of the water, you assume you're in the right place and get to work setting up your own tent off near the edge of the lake.

It wasn't long before the sun started to set over the abandoned gravel pit, and you just finish up when you crack open your first drink from the cooler. "So like... are we actually going to talk to anyone or just hide over here and be weird all night?" Rafe asks as you bring the can to your lips.

You roll your eyes a little and nod. "Well, duh. My friends are coming. I don't know what your plans are." Rafe looks around at that, seeing if there's anyone he might be able to talk to, but he was counting on hanging out with you.

"Wow, you're ditching me?" He asks, reaching into the cooler as well and grabbing a beer. "Cold."

You go to reply with a matching, somewhat snarky attitude the two of you almost always share when you recognize the purple jeep that's pulling in. "That's them! Good luck making friends!" You call back, jogging over to where they parked.

Rafe flips you off as you turn your full attention to your friends, sighing a little to himself as he lays eyes on a group of local boys who look enough like his friends that he's comfortable talking to them.

By the time that the area is lit only by the orange glow coming from the several cooking fires and the large bonfire everyone is centered around, you're already stumbling over your feet with a half-drank bottle of some liquor you didn't bring, and you're not even sure where you got it.

Rafe has been trying to keep an eye on you from a distance, but now he's lost you. He's drunk himself, so he's not overly concerned, but he would just at least like to know where you were. He looks around frantically, trying to keep his cool as the boys around him are laughing about something he didn't care to pay attention to. His eyes land on some figures out in the lake, and he squints to see if he can make out the shape of your hair in the dark. He takes a few steps away to get a closer look, hearing you laughing and shouting over the music coming from an on shore speaker. He walks down to the shore with a smug look on his face, polishing off his beer when he looks down and notices piles of clothes on the shore. Are you naked?

"Hey, Y/N!" Rafe shouts, waving to you in an attempt to grab your attention.

"Rafe!" You shout back, smile never fading as you push your wet hair out of your face. With the liquor warming you, the water feels amazing and so soft on your skin. "Come out here! Come join us!"

Rafe sighs as he finds your stuff, relieved to find only your shirt, shorts, and bra. At least you weren't fully naked in front of all these strangers. He strips of everything but his boxers and grabs your bra, wading out into the cool lake water to you and your friends as they cheer and laugh.

"Rafe! Where have you been?" You giggle, throwing your arms over his shoulders once he gets close enough for you to reach.

"I've been around- apparently I should have been babysitting you ladies." He chuckles, trying to hide any frustration in his tone as he avoids looking at your friends who are just as well clothed as you are. "Put this on, at least." He adds, pulling away from you and handing you the article of clothing, crossing his arms to watch you put it on despite his better judgement.

"Hey! Girls! Come on in, we're going to play chandelier!" One of the guys Rafe had the pleasure of talking to for the last couple hours shouts, and quickly everyone makes their way in to shore.

"Y/N, hey, we don't want you to get sick. Come warm up." Rafe turns his head as he gets his shirt back on, watching as one of the other guys, Jesse, is quickly wrapping you in a small blanket and guiding you up to the bonfire with a hand on your lower back. He scowls at the two of you behind your back, following as he urges you up the small hill and towards the large fire pit ahead.

You walk side by side with the boy, until you can feel the warmth of the flames on your skin where you stop and stand to dry off both your skin and what little clothing you have on. You don't know you're shivering until Jesse is tugging on the blanket around your shoulders. "Here, let me help you warm up.." He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you from behind and draping the blanket over both of you.

"Oh, thanks, Jesse." You say, teeth chattering from the soft breeze. You lean back into him, swaying from the alcohol still in your system and he steadies you.

"Anytime, sweetheart." He mumbles, pressing his lips to the back of your head.

You are well aware of his hands wandering, fiddling with the waistband of your underwear as you have your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you gaze across the fire and your eyes land on Rafe, who's staring at you intently.

You smile and wave at him, but he just rolls his eyes in response and looks away. Is he upset with you for ditching him? In hindsight it wasn't very nice, even if that is the kind of relationship you normally have. If it was you you'd be upset- he didn't know anyone, and he was left to fend for himself, granted; he was clearly fine.

"Hey, Ashley?" You find yourself calling over to your other friend, but she doesn't hear you as your eyes well up with tears. Why do you feel so bad right now? Does Rafe being upset with you really bother you that much? You've hardly felt like this before.

"Ashley?" You ask again, but she hardly glances at you as she's got another boy draped over her shoulder- one who is definitely not the girls boyfriend.

"You okay?" Jesse asks, leaning his head over your shoulder to get a better look at you.

"Uhm, yeah, I just have to go to the bathroom and I was hoping she would come with me." You explain, watching Rafe again as he buries himself in conversation with the two girls standing next to him.

"I'll take you." Jesse offers. "Come on, I won't watch. Swear." He says, already guiding you away and tossing the blanket back to his friend.

You glance back at Rafe over your shoulder as Jesse walks you off into the dark. Just as you look forward again to try and watch your step, Jesse's hand is smacking your butt playfully, making you jump. You laugh it off and give him a shove, but he's grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of his truck.

The swing of Jesse's arm to where his hand hit your exposed skin drew Rafe's attention again fully, and he furrows his brow as he watches you stumble away. You were sharing a tent with him and you were really about to hook up with that mainland loser? He quickly downs the rest of his beer and storms after you, fists clenched at his sides after discarding the bottle on a nearby pong table.

"Hey!" Rafe shouts, making the two of you turn just as Jesse backs you up against the side of his truck and starts kissing down your neck. You're confused, but not one to turn down an opportunity like this- especially when you never have to see him again. As soon as Jesse turns his head, though, it's snapped back again with the contact of Rafe's fist into his nose.

He groans and quickly brings his hands up to his face, tipping his head back as blood pours from between his fingers. You gasp, reaching out for him but hesitating, not sure what to do.

"You think you can hook up with any girl who accepts a blanket from you when she's cold? She came here with me." Rafe spits, and you feel your features pull into an expression of anger as you quickly step towards him and shove him back. "What?"

"Come on." You mutter, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the now bleeding boy. "What the fuck was that about?" You ask, storming back to where your shared tent was in the corner. "Do you think you have some stupid claim over me just because you drove me here?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, stopping with you next to the tent as you drop his arm and turn to face him. "He was taking advantage of you!"

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms. "No, Rafe. He wasn't. Did you ever consider that maybe I wanted that?"

"Whatever, Y/N- don't act like you weren't eyeing me up for the whole drive here."

"Oh. My. God." You find yourself laughing suddenly, realizing what this is about. "You were jealous."

"What? No I wasn't." Rafe replies defensively.

You smile at him cockily, tilting your head and waiting for him to spiral on it.

"I wasn't! I tried to help. That's what I get, I guess!" Rafe throws his hands up.

"And here I was thinking you were mad at me for ditching you. Turns out you were just horny." You smirk, knowing you were just pushing his buttons this time for fun.

"Oh, fuck off, Y/N, you're just trying to piss me off now for fun."

"You're not denying it." You shrug, looking back over to the fire for a moment, seeing Jesse sitting there with paper towel pressed to his nose and a few girls surrounding him.

"You're making it difficult not to be when you’re walking around like that.” He replies, smirking as he looks you up and down.

“Don’t be gross, Rafe.” You smile, dropping your arms from they were crossed over your chest.

He takes a step closer at that, delicately placing his hands on your hips. “You love it, Y/N/N, you know you do.”

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie , @whore-4-drewstarkey , @slut4drudy , @winterrrnight , @totalswag , @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron , @urfaveluvr , @chenslucy , @hxnnah-397 , @s-we-e-t-t-ea , @tahliac11 , @ragingsammie , @ietss, @dee127

#obx fanfic #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe fic #outer banks #rafe fanfiction #obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe headcanons

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moodymisty · 9 months

Note

Hi ! Hope you're doing great and I hope you don't mind me sending a new request 😊

I was wondering if you could, maybe, write a second part for "Baby Fever Crosshair" where he tells the reader about it (with smut if possible)

Of course, if you don't want to, it's perfectly fine, no pressure. Have a great day/night ! ❤️

Part 1 (but can be self contained)

Author's Note: Ok, let's give this a shot! I hope you enjoy :3 I'm trying to work on making my nsfw fics less plotty, so here's like 90% smut lmao

'Happy ending' (as happy as Empire rule can be) AU where the Batch settles down on a nondescript planet. Is it Pabu? Maybe. Maybe not. Up to you. Doesn't really matter too much this is all smut anyways XD

Summary: Crosshair admits one night he wants a kid. You do too.

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Breeding kink, Pregnancy and such related things so Tokophobia warning, Creampies, PWP, Basically just cheap dirtiness

I want to have a kid.

It felt like only seconds ago Crosshair broken the silence of your small bedroom with those four words, making you stop in your tracks as you reached for the light switch.

It wasn't something you'd expected from him. Sure the two of you had been talking a bit about your future as of late, together, but the topic of kids hadn't really come up directly. It was never out of the question, however.

You also don't know why he chose to say it that way so out of the blue; Maybe he had been holding it in for awhile, and was sick of trying to wait for a perfect moment to finally breach the subject.

But why wait for a perfect moment, when you can just make one. You have all the time in the galaxy to do so now, with the Empire off your backs. The both of you can now actually consider making a family, instead of just fantasizing.

Crosshair's lips hungrily capture yours for what seems like the millionth time, feeling like they're going to bruise with the way he so roughly and hungrily kisses you. It's like he's desperate, wanting to nearly devour you. His breath comes out in harsh pants and mixes with your own, until it's almost the only thing you can hear.

You'd barely had the chance to mumble an enthusiastic yes to his proposal before he was on you, holding your hips and pulling them to his front like he'd been holding back the declaration for months. You could feel the outline of his cock against your thigh, already hard as he nearly started tearing your clothes off of you. You had to fight him with it, to get them off before he either abandoned them, or ruined them.

But with the way he'd thrown you onto the bed, you swear if it hadn't been less than two meters away from the damn thing, he might've just fucked you right where you'd been standing.

And with the way he's making your body feel, you know your knees would've buckled underneath your own body weight and send you to the floor, and him on top of you.

Your thighs are soaked; He's had his fingers last knuckle deep in your cunt for what feels like ages, and the lascivious sounds his hand makes as he presses the palm of his hand against your clit makes your face boil.

You've lost track of time, the room feels hot and stuffy and your thighs ache as your muscles tighten, but Crosshair pushes down on one knee to force them to stay apart. You've haven't had enough of him, but gods have you had enough of him tormenting you like this. Throwing your head back against the pillow you yell at him towards the ceiling, back arching upward as your body writhes underneath him. Your clit throbs, as your heels dig into the mattress.

"Gods, Crosshair- Just fuck me already!"

You don't want him to take his time; You want him to absolutely fuck your brains out, make it so you can't walk tomorrow and that his cum leaks down your thighs. That was the whole goal of this, after all. You want to feel this in the morning so that in some sort of odd way, you think there's a better chance.

He's naked from the waist up, his body glove rolled down to his hips. It'll one be one swift motion to take if all the way off, as his cock strains against the fabric. His lips pull away from yours, swollen and messy, his dark eyes looking right into yours. They're glossy; He's only got one thought in mind and it's the same as your own.

"I was gettin' there, Doll."

Your response is almost instant; Pulling your bottom lip from between your teeth just to do so.

"You don't get to spring yourself on me like that and then play the 'patience' card, Cross."

Your voice is strained but you hold your ground on it, except when you whimper as he finally moves his hands to the rolled edges of his body glove and removes it. He kicks it off, going somewhere off into the void around the room.

You can see the soft sheen of precum on the tip of his cock that aches for relief, until he grabs your hips and yanks you close. You gasp, and quickly Crosshair grinds his cock between your folds and against your clit, coating himself in all of the wetness he'd been pulling from you for what's felt like hours. Your cunt clenches around nothing just yearning for anything, now that his fingers are gone. It's such a primal want that has you trying to move closer to him, even if it's almost impossible to get anymore so.

Once the head of his cock teases and prods at your entrance for a moment, stretching just enough to make you moan before his grinding makes it slip upward and away. It only happens just once as the next time he quickly pushes his cock entirely into you, teeth gritting as he swears between them.

"Kriff, you're so warm..."

He wants to drag this out, but realistically he knows he probably won't be able to. And neither will you. Each and every time he opens his eyes he keeps imaging all those things that had been eating at his mind ever since this started plaguing him; Seeing you a swollen belly, knowing he's the reason. Sometimes he sees you on top of him, riding him on his lap as he grasps at your hips.

And it's going to happen, if it's the last thing he does. He's more than patient; and he'll keep fucking you and fucking you until it finally sticks.

"I can't wait to fill up this pussy of yours."

You can't wait either.

He puts your ankles on his shoulders, leaning down enough so that your knees try to press back against your own body. It makes it so he can drive his cock even deeper into you; So much so that it feels like he's going to hit your spine.

"Kriff," It's almost like he looses track of what he was going to say, or he got distracted for a moment. "Kriff you look so hot like this."

Your hands grasp and claw at anything within reach, but with nothing else to grasp onto there's little to keep you steady. It's hard to not let your eyes flutter closed and stay that way, looking up to see the way Crosshair's neck is tight and you can see the knot in his throat bob as he swallows.

He drives his cock deep into you, hips pressing against the back of your thighs and it's enough to bring you half way to cumming again. Your body was already so pliable and sensitive, his rough hands grasping at your body and slamming his hips into yours is enough to make you see white. It's not even as if Crosshair spent so long teasing you until you cried; There's just something in the air.

"You don't even have to say anything; I know you're begging for it."

You were moments ago and you are now; Your hands grip the blankets atop the bed and underneath you like you're going to tear right through them, holding on for all it's worth as Crosshair drives you into, and what feels like through, the mattress.

Your toes curl and knees bend, surely they'd have buckled by now if you were standing, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip so hard it feels like it's going to bleed. Or maybe it already is.

"Cross, s-slow down I'm gonna-"

You suddenly cum around him, gasping out in the hot air, Crosshair continuing to fuck you through it to the point that you swear you see white.

"Kriff, you're so tight-" His voice is wavering, hips barely able to keep and even pace as he fucks you. His nearly hisses those words out through clenched teeth, his hips slowing. It feels so hot in the bubble both of you exist in, Crosshair's hands grip you so tight that you'd probably be unable to get from their grip,even if you'd wanted.

That would be the absolute last thing you'd want; You're pretty sure you wouldn't care if a groundquake hit, as he pulls out barely a third of the way, slowly fucking you deeply as he finishes inside of you. You hear his groan and the myriad of swears under his breath, his hands loosening their grip. Instead of vices they drift along your skin now, brushing over the little dents he'd left.

Especially as he slows down, finally to a full stop as he attempts to catch his breath from the aftermath. He lets your legs fall off of his shoulders, falling to the mattress and bouncing once as they lay limp with the rest of your body. It's been a bit since he last kissed you, and he leans down to steal a single one as he pulls his cock slowly from you, and you feel the ache of your battered pussy even more than before.

Cum leaks out of you as it overflows, a feeling is odd, and but now. satisfying. You suddenly gasp however as Crosshair's touch suddenly returns, dragging two fingers up your cunt he catches any of it that leaked out and pushes it back in, listening to your whine as the motions tease your already battered and overstimulated nerves.

"Don't waste it."

You don't have too much say in that matter, but it's not as if he can't just fuck you all over again in a bit once your heart stops racing. Using one of his hands to support himself while the other touches his forehead, he leans away from your body a bit, looking down on you. You glance down at the way his lean stomach perfectly tapers to his hips and downward further, accentuated perfectly by the angle. You hope he knows how fucking good he looks sometimes.

Crosshair brushes a hand over the top of his head, unawares of your gawking. He still keeps his hair very short, but it's been growing a little bit longer as of late, enough to see some actual volume rather than the old GAR regulated, though for the 99's more like suggested, clone cut.

"Do you think they'd notice if we just, never moved from here tomorrow and didn't show up?"

You were supposed to meet up with the rest of the Batch tomorrow, but it's already so late and being honest, the both of you have other things on the mind. Crosshair looks down at you, his eyebrows raising slightly; But there's a look in his eyes that more than gives away that he's considering it.

Why not just make sure.

Join the taglist here: @simp-legend @nekotaetae @chad-something @coffeyorky @merkitty49 @lokigirlszendaya @totesnothere04 @get-wr3ckered @rebel-finn @mandoloriancookie @therealnekomari @loverofclones @notthatfanfictionwriter @lucyysthings @jennrosefx @fxlsealarm @crosshairs-wife @sinfulsalutations @Rennyboo9 @pb-jellybeans @jediknightjana @coraex

#tw tokophobia #tw pregnancy #the bad batch crosshair x reader #Crosshair/Reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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fortheloveofwonderland · 8 months

Text

Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 16 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer has to make a decision about his sobriety. You find unique ways to help him deal with his cravings.

A/N - some mentions of 3.16 Elephants Memory

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - mentions of NA meetings, swearing, drugs, thoughts of self-harm, masturbation (male) and brief mentions of fem masturbation, brief mention of penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), fingering, getting caught.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 16 - The Needle and the Damage Done

When he opened his eyes he was in a nondescript hall, sitting in a hard plastic chair. Usually all the other chairs surrounding him would be full of people, listening to a speaker at the podium.

It had been a long time since Spencer found himself here. Beltway Clean Cops. Only this time he appeared to be alone. But he wasn’t. A figure appeared at the podium, and before their face came into view he knew who it was.

“Hi everyone. My name is John and I’m an addict.” The man Spencer hadn’t seen in some ten years spoke to a crowd of one.

John had been there when Spencer had his last crisis of faith, it wasn’t a surprise he was here now. He’d helped Spencer through his first few meetings at Beltway and was probably one of the reasons he’d stayed sober as long as he had. John didn’t say another word, he simply stared at Spencer, making Spencer feel uncomfortable.

Spencer averted his gaze and looked down. His sleeve was still rolled up and the tie still in place. In his right hand he held the needle full of dilaudid.

“Do you really want to give up your sobriety so easily, Reid?”

Spencer looked back up and John was now right in front of him, giving him a disapproving look.

“I’ve only been sober for five weeks. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.” Spencer shrugged.

“But how long will it take you to get sober again? Six months? A year? Two? Maybe you’ll never get sober again.” John folded his arms across his chest.

“Maybe I wasn’t meant to be sober.” He toyed with the needle.

“If you’d really wanted to take it, you would have done it by now.” John slid into the seat next to him.

“Or maybe I’m just waiting for the best time.” Spencer countered.

“There’s never a best time to take drugs. You know that. You’re not thinking like an addict anymore Spencer. You’re speaking like a man who values his sobriety.” John’s voice was calm and levelled exactly how Spencer remembered it.

“I haven’t seen you in over ten years. There is no possible way you can know that.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“That might be, but I know addicts. Trust me when I say you don’t want to take them. You could have easily taken them at the prison but you didn’t and then again when you got back to the institute. But you hesitated. If you really wanted to get high, you would have done it by now.” John smiled meekly at him.

“I don’t want to let her win.” He confessed, running his finger over his pulsing vein.

“Then don’t.” John told him like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I don’t want to take them. But I’m sure I will. I’m trying to put it off but I don’t know how long I can do that for.” He started gnawing on his lip.

“How long were you sober before you relapse?”

Spencer looked up at John with a frown.

“What? I don’t see why that-“

“How long?” He cut Spencer off.

Spencer looked back at the needle with a sigh.

“Ten years.” He grinded his teeth. “Ten years, five months and eight days.”

“And how many attempts did you make to stay sober before that?”

“At least five.”

“Exactly.” John chuckled lightly. “Healing from an addiction isn’t linear Spencer. Sometimes we take a step forward to take two back. Hell, sometimes it’s two forward and five back.”

Spencer frowned deeply, remembering George saying the exact same thing to him. He guessed it made sense, George’s words had stuck with him and were seeping over to his unconscious.

“So you’re saying it’s not the end of the world if I relapse?” Spencer smiled wryly at him.

“That's not what I’m saying and you know it.” John rolled his eyes. “But if you did relapse, then you just get sober again. But it will be harder every time you try. The slope gets more and more slippery every time. There will be more obstacles standing in your way after every relapse. And eventually…eventually the road to recovery will be too difficult and you’ll give up trying.”

“Maybe this is just who I am. Maybe I’m destined to be an addict.” Spencer huffed like a small child, making John laugh.

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I kind of do.” John chuckled. “I’m your subconscious.”

Spencer groaned a little, still running his fingers over his vein while the needle sat in his lap. He saw John fishing around his pocket for a second before he procured something in his hand.

“Here take this.” He held his hand out to offer Spencer the small gold coin. “That's my one year medallion, took me six years to get it. For the past thirteen years I’ve never left home without it. Because I know if I forget that, I’ll lose my gun, my credentials, my home. Everything. Hold onto it.”

Spencer took it from his open palm, remembering ten years ago when John had given him the chip and said the exact same thing. At this point it would have been well over twenty years but he’d carried it but apparently his subconscious wasn’t up to that kind of math.

“I only have five weeks.” Spencer rolled the coin around in his hand.

“I know.” John pushed himself up from his chair.

“It’s your most prized possession.” Spencer repeated the way he had all those years ago.

“It is.” John smiled.

“You’re just giving it to me?” Spencer knew exactly what John would say next.

“No. In a couple of months when you get your year, give it back to me.” He turned and started walking away.

Spencer cupped the coin in his hand. He had given that coin back to John. He’d been ten months sober when he’d given it to him and two months later he’d proudly handed the chip back to John when he received his own. Where was that chip now? He could really use that chip as a reminder to stay sober.

“Thanks.” Spencer finally looked up from his hand but when he did, John was nowhere to be seen.

***

Spencer woke in a fit, sweating and panting and gasping for air as though he’d been underwater. The tie was still snug around his bicep and the needle full of dilaudid was next to him on the bed.

He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t cut out for being sober. So what if it meant Cat won? Who fucking cares? Surely if he was high again that would make him a winner.

The hesitation of last night was all but gone and

silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he sat up a little in the bed. He grabbed the needle, pressed it against the vein at the crook of his arm. Everything would be ok once he was high. Nothing else would matter anymore. Fuck sobriety. Fuck rehabilitation. Fuck everything and everyone.

As he was about to pierce his skin with the needle, the chess set on his desk caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes on it, looking at it clearly for the first time in weeks.

Gideon had bestowed that particular set on him as a birthday gift years and years ago. It was one that had belonged to Gideon’s father, one he’d had custom made. The chess board had small drawers underneath to house all the pieces in transport so nothing got lost. It was one of Spencer’s most prized possessions. Second only to his one year chip.

He let the needle fall to the bed and quickly jumped to his feet. He cautiously moved towards his desk, anticipation and fear flooding over him. If it was there it was a sign not to go through with this. If by some stroke of luck it was still there then it meant he wasn’t supposed to relapse.

But the odds of it not being there were high. He’d thrown that chess set around his apartment and it had probably rolled out somewhere and was lost under his couch or something.

He ran his fingers cautiously over the little hidden drawer, hand shaking as he did so. He took a deep breath and pulled open the drawer just to be met with the wooden insides. He closed his eyes as tears continued to fall and shook his head.

Of course it’s not there. It’s long gone. That’s your sign, Reid. That’s your sign to get high.

Before he gave up and went back to his needle, he let his fingers wander inside the drawer. He ran his fingertips over the smooth wood until he reached the back corner. And his fingers brushed against cool metal.

His heart leapt into his throat as he gripped it and withdrew it from the drawer. His tears started falling even heavier as he looked down at his open palm and the item now laying it.

His one year sober chip.

He clutched it tightly in his hand as he started to sob. He fell back to the bed and held the chip close to his heart.

You can do this. You can get there again. You did it once, you can do it again.

Don’t let her win.

He barely had a chance to remove his tourniquet and hide the needle and vial before he heard the nurse's trolley scattering down the corridor outside his room.

He put the paraphernalia in one pocket and his chip in the other, drying his tears on his sleeves the best he could before the door opened. If the nurse noticed he’d been crying, she didn’t say anything as she handed him his medication and waited for him to take it.

At her instance he showered but he bypassed breakfast, having more important things to take care of. He knocked on the door, not even sure if she’d be there but after a few seconds her voice carried through the door.

“Come in.”

Spencer took a deep breath before gripping the handle and pushing the door open. She looked up as he entered, a soft, yet confused smile on her face.

“Spencer,” Maggie put down the file she was reading and came out from behind her desk. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you until this afternoon.”

“This was kind of an emergency.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, running over fingers over the vial and coin respectively.

“Things didn’t go well yesterday?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not exactly.” He chewed his lip to try and stop from crying.

He left the chip in his left pocket but pulled out the items inhabiting the right. He held the vial and still full needle in his palm for her to see. He saw the moment the air left Maggie lungs and he hadn’t realised until that moment how much she genuinely cared.

“Spencer,” she inhaled deeply as she said his name.

“I didn’t take it.” He was quick to say. “I wanted to. I almost did. But I didn’t.”

He cautiously stepped closer to her and she instinctively held her hand out and Spencer placed the vial and needle in her palm.

“That shows some excellent growth, Spencer.” She took the items and set them down on her desk to destroy later.

She motioned Spencer to the couch before she took a seat opposite him.

“I’m proud of you, you know?” She folded her hands in her lap, for the first time not taking notes.

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” His hands were shaking as he raked them through his hair.

“I can imagine.” She spoke softly, as though she was speaking to a child. “Can you explain to me why you didn’t take it?”

“Why does that matter?” He frowned a little.

“Because the next time you’re craving, you’re going to remind yourself of why you didn’t relapse. I need you to know why you made that decision.”

He sniffed loudly, reaching into his sweater sleeve and toying with your bracelet.

“I guess I’m not thinking like an addict anymore. I’m thinking like a man who values his sobriety.” He repeated the words John had spoken to him in his dream. “And I found this.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his chip. He rolled it around in his fingers while Maggie watched.

“How long?” She nodded at the chip.

“A year. I’ve had it for over ten years. I used to carry it with me everywhere I went but I guess over the years I thought I didn’t need to anymore. After I was sober for long enough I assumed the battle was over. It’s never really over.” He wrapped his fingers around it and held it tightly in his palm.

“That’s very true. It becomes manageable in the sense you don’t think about using every day or every week or even every year. But you know it never goes away.” She replied.

“I came so close to relapsing. I wanted to relapse. I hate being sober.” His first tear betrayed him and rolled down his cheek. “At least right now I do. But I know I won’t forever. I know one day I’m going to wake up and be grateful for getting clean. And I want to get to that point no matter how hard it is. I want to be happy being sober again.”

Maggie smiled at him as a few more tears escaped his eyes.

“I really am very proud of you, Spencer. I don’t know if that means anything to you or helps anyway, but I am.”

“It means a lot.” He nodded, gnawing on his lip, still clutching his coin tightly. “I need all the impetus I can get.”

They sat in silence after that. Maggie knew Spencer just needed a moment of reflection before he faced the rest of his day and she was happy to give it to him. After nearly twenty minutes of sitting in silence, he heaved a sigh and slotted his chip back in his pocket.

“Thanks for this. I know you must be busy.” He pushed himself up from the couch.

“Anytime.” Maggie stood as well. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

“Bye.” He offered her a wave, keeping his other hand in his pocket on the chip as he left her office.

He went about his day in a daze for the most part. It was reminiscent of his first week here when he was still combating the haziness in his brain from his heavy drug use.

He didn’t speak much to anyone aside from Maggie in his afternoon therapy session. He knew what he had to do and he was trying to build himself up to it all day.

He refused to let Cat go to her grave thinking he’d taken the drugs. He had to speak to her one last time before she was put to death.

After dinner he hung around by the bank of phones building up the nerve to make the call. It was the last time he’d ever have to speak to her. One last call and it really would all be over.

After a few minutes of pacing back and forth he grabbed up the receiver and dialled the number for Mount Pleasant he’d memorised a long time ago. He knew exactly what he needed to say to get to speak to her.

“Mount Pleasant Correctional Facility. Governor Clements speaking.” The official voice carried down the line.

Spencer took a few deep breaths hoping this wouldn’t get back to anyone on his old team.

“Good evening. This is SSA Luke Alvez with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I wondered if it would be possible to speak with Catherine Adam’s. We had a few final questions to ask her before her execution and no free manpower to make the trip again.” He held his breath.

“Weren’t you just here yesterday?” Clements had a frown to his voice.

“Yes, that's correct. But I promise it will only take a moment.”

“Currently Ms Adam’s is at dinner. I can arrange for us to call you back later this evening? The inmates usually get phone time around eight.” Clements informed him.

“Uh…sure.” Spencer chewed on his lip.

He’d built himself up to making this call and didn’t want to wait any longer but he guessed he didn’t have a choice. He reeled off the phone number that was written on all the phones in the corridor and hoped Clements didn’t give much thought to the fact it wasn’t a cell phone number.

“Thank you SSA Alvez. I hope she cooperates with you.” Clements spoke after jotting down the number.

“Me too. Thank you for your time Governor.” Spencer hung up the phone before he said anything to incriminate himself.

If he’d been honest about who he was it was unlikely he would get the chance to talk to her. And he needed her to know she hadn’t won. He checked the clock on the wall, it was a little after six thirty. He just had to occupy himself for an hour and a half.

Easier said than done.

He went back to his room and sat on his bed staring at the wall. Time was going to pass painfully slowly if this was all he planned on doing. He twisted the chip around in his hand hoping it would stem the cravings that were still coursing through his veins.

He wished he’d taken the drugs. He really wished he’d taken the drugs. He felt itchy all over and started scratching at his skin with his free hand but his nails still weren’t quite long enough to do any damage.

He wanted to burrow into his skin, scratch off chunks of flesh and watch himself bleed in the hopes of stopping his urges.

He closed his eyes and squeezed the chip tightly in his palm. He couldn’t sit here for the rest of the night, he’d surely do something stupid. He could smash his head against the corner of the desk until he caused intracranial bleeding.

He could use his tie like a noose, tie around his neck and to the light on the ceiling and hang himself.

He could smother himself with his pillow. He could go to the pool and drown himself or even the fountain in the courtyard.

He could snap every one of his fingers until they were all broken so he couldn’t use again even if he wanted to.

If he got creative enough he could probably kill himself in any number of ways. But if he did that, Cat really did win. Killing himself was worse than if he’d taken the drugs she’d given him.

He was not letting her have the satisfaction of his death on her hands. He didn’t believe in the afterlife, but knowing his luck he’d end up in hell right next to her for all of eternity. But what was he supposed to do? How did normal people cope with their emotions?

His eyes snapped open suddenly and he felt his chest tighten. He thought back to a session with Maggie a little while ago and her suggested coping mechanism.

Masturbation. Masturbation as a form of recovery.

As soon as he started thinking about masturbation, he started naturally thinking about you. And when he thought about you, his dick almost immediately started to harden.

He chewed on his lip and glanced at the closed door. He didn’t have any other obligations today, no one should be looking for him. He should be able to relieve himself without being disturbed.

He was already semi-erect as he laid back against the pillows, placing his chip on the nightstand before covering himself with the bedsheet. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to block out all the external stimuli so he could pretend he was in the privacy of his own apartment.

He took his brain back to his hazy memories of the night in the alleyway. You had him pressed up against the wall, he could feel the cool brick through his shirt if he thought hard enough. He remembered the way the air caressed his erection when you freed it from his pants.

He worked his hand under the sheet and unbuttoned his slacks, rolling them down enough to free his now fully hard cock. He wrapped his hand around the base and his toes curled as he imagined your small, delicate hand stroking him instead of his own.

As he started his movements, behind his closed lids he found himself on his back in a large plush bed that wasn’t his own. You were on top of him, both of you were naked and you bowed your head to kiss him. His hard cock nestled between your legs and glided through your slickness as you kissed him deeply.

He stroked up and down his length, wishing he was between your legs right now but this would have to do. He heard your voice in his ears as you sat back and rolled a condom over his length.

“Are you going to show me a good time?”

“Trust me when I say you don’t know a good time until you’ve been with me.”

He bit his lip to stifle a moan as he increased his speed, imagining you lowering yourself down on him. He could feel your tight pussy stretching to accommodate him as slowly filled you up inch by inch.

“Fuck, you’re big.”

He could hear your soft giggle, he could imagine so clearly the way it felt to be sheathed inside of you while you did it. He could feel your hands on his chest, steadying yourself and your gold and purple bracelet was adorned around your wrist.

His head started leaking precome on his hand as he pictured the way it felt when he bottomed out inside of you, your walls fluttering around him.

“Fuck,” he whined, swiping his thumb through his precome and using it as lubrication.

He saw your tits bouncing above him as you started riding him, feel the way his cock slammed against your cervix with each thrust.

His toes curled and he screwed the bedsheet up with his free hand. His breathing became heightened and he desperately tried to keep his moans of pleasure quiet.

“God fucking damn you’re so tight.”

He could hear his own panted words, see himself reaching up to fondle your nipples. He heard the moan that erupted from your lungs and felt how you clenched around him.

He was so close to his orgasm already. He slowed his strokes a little, wanting to draw it out as much as possible.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fucking come!”

Your scream turned into a moan and he envisioned the way your whole body trembled on top of him when your orgasm took route.

“Fucking Christ.” Spencer panted and although he wasn’t ready to let his orgasm consume him, his other hand slipped beneath the sheet.

He massaged his balls between his fingers while he continued pumping his shaft, chest heaving with his breaths. He wasn’t sure what forced his eyes to open but when they did he wasn’t alone.

For a moment he thought he was still imagining you and the night he thought he’d spent with you. But it became clear very quickly that he was in his bed at the institute.

“Fuck!” He yelped, pulling his hands out from under the sheet and holding them up in defeat. “Shit. Fuck. I wasn’t…I mean I was but I uh…”

His cheeks burned with embarrassment but you simply smiled at him. You moved closer to the bed and Spencer felt his chest constricting more the closer you got.

“Craving huh?” You smirked as you hopped up onto the bed.

Spencer tried to shuffle up the pillows to create distance between you.

“Y-yeah.” He nodded, painfully aware he was still hard and hanging out of his slacks with only the thin sheet covering him.

“Me too.” You shuffled closer and Spencer suddenly couldn’t breathe. “I masturbated too but it didn’t help much.”

“Fuck Y/N.” He whined, his cock twitching. “Don’t say things like that.”

You giggled and he swore he could feel it the way he was sure he could feel it when you were wrapped around his cock. If in fact that memory was real. He didn’t exactly trust his memories these days.

“It could be beneficial to both of us if we…combine our resources, you know?” You shuffled even closer and his cock throbbed when you placed your hands on his thighs.

“W-what are you s-suggesting?” He swallowed.

“I’m pretty certain if I had something else to focus on it would take my mind off my cravings.” Your voice was low and breathy.

“L-like what?”

You smirked wildly at him, pupils blown out. You quickly moved the sheet aside, revealing his erection and Spencer whimpered pathetically as he was exposed. Your eyes got darker and you moved even closer, between his legs, and gripping his thighs.

“Choking on a cock should do it.” You chuckled at the way your words made Spencer whine and bowed your head a little closer to his crotch. “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no.” He shook his head, more precome leaking from his head and you hadn’t even touched him.

“You sure?”

“V-very fucking sure. I have n-never been more sure about anything in my l-life.” His stuttering showed his nerves but his steady gaze told you he was sure.

You smirked up at him before closing the gap between your face and his crotch and wrapped your lips around his head. Spencer moaned louder than was appropriate for the setting and quickly brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his knuckles. His other hand found your hair as you started slowly descending his shaft, taking him in your mouth inch by inch.

Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt another person's touch, let alone their mouth in such a way. And the fact that it was you made it even more incredible. You took him entirely in your mouth and didn’t make a sound as he hit the back of your throat. You looked up at him through your lashes as his fingers nestled in your hair.

“You look like a fucking work of art right now.” He panted and felt you smile around him as you started moving back up.

Soon you were moving faster, bobbing up and down on his cock with ferocity. He’d been close before you started but he really didn’t want this to be over so soon. This was all too similar to a dream he’d had of you after your night at the pool. But he knew with resounding clarity that this was real. The way you were making him feel was better than even his wildest dreams.

You could taste his precome on your tongue so you started playing with his balls in your hand. He moaned around his knuckles, bucking his hips up into your mouth and slamming into the back of your throat.

“Fuck, I’m close. God I wish I wasn’t but I haven’t been sucked off like this in so long.” He whined and he felt you laugh around him.

When you gave his balls a tight squeeze at the same time you ran your tongue over his head, he knew it was over for him. He tugged on your hair a little as his stomach tightened.

“I’m gonna come, gonna come!” He tried to pull you off him but you stood your ground, taking him all the way inside your mouth once more just as he came.

His come hit the back of your throat in hot streams as he wriggled beneath you and a string of slurs left his lips. You swallowed every tiny drop of his orgasm and kept him inside your mouth until you were sure he was spent.

His hand fell from your hair as he whined and rocked in the bed. You smiled to yourself as you came off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Spencer looked up at you with black eyes and a dopey smirk on his lips.

Before you could say anything he sat up a little and gripped you by the back of the neck. He pulled you down next to him in the bed and smashed his lips against yours. You gasped as his tongue plunged into your mouth and he moaned at the way he tasted on your tongue. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held your face delicately in his large hands. You grinded against him, moaning at the slight friction it caused but needing more.

As if sensing this, one of Spencer’s hands left your face and grazed down your side. He expertly undid the button of your jeans and within seconds his hand was slipping inside them and your panties. He hissed against your lips at how wet you were.

He pressed his thumb against your clit and started to rub it while his index and middle fingers were soon pushing inside of you. You moaned into his mouth, letting him absorb your sounds. His long, nimble fingers dove in and out of you while he never let up his work on your clit.

He was growing hard again, you could feel it against your thigh. Instinctively you took hold of his shaft and started to stroke him, the kiss turning slightly sloppy.

Your pants echoed around the room as well as the sound of Spencer’s fingers as they moved inside your wet cunt. You were rocking against him, trying to tell him you needed more. You felt him smile against your lips before he pulled them away and looked at you with lust filled eyes.

“Use your words, angel.” He mumbled, scissoring his fingers inside of you and making you whine.

“F-fuck,” you felt tears pricking your eyes.

“Not so brazen now are we?” He smirked. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“P-please!” You gasped as he pressed hard against your clit.

Your strokes on his dick were becoming lazy as he was drawing you close to your edge. Spencer chuckled, suddenly withdrawing his fingers from inside your pants and making you whine loudly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.” He kissed you again and rolled you so you were on top of him.

He helped you manoeuvre out of your jeans and tossed them aside. He grinded against you, the rough fabric of your lace panties causing him to hiss. He moved them aside and nestled his cock between your legs but didn’t enter you.

He relished in the feeling of just running his cock between your legs a few times whilst holding tightly to your hips in an attempt to keep you upright. Tears had snuck out of your eyes and were rolling softly down your cheeks.

“Please?” You begged pathetically, moving back and forth on him.

Spencer smiled to himself. Oh how the tables had turned. He gripped your neck again and pulled you down for another kiss before taking hold of your hips again. He lifted you by your waist so he could line himself up while he hungrily explored your mouth.

Just as he was about to push inside of you, the sound of someone clearing their throat caused you both to spring apart. You were quick to cover both you and Spencer with the discarded sheet and you buried your head into the pillow in embarrassment. Spencer’s cheeks turned bright red as he pulled the sheet up to his chin as if it would help the situation.

“Uh…George? What are you doing here?” Spencer chewed on his lip.

You curled into his side, as if trying to disappear altogether.

“I was just leaving when a phone call came in through one of the patient phones. SSA Luke Alvez.” He cocked his eyebrow at Spencer.

“How did you know that’s for me?” Spencer swallowed, trying to tuck himself away under the sheet.

“Because when I told your collect caller from Mount Pleasant Correctional Facility that she had the wrong number and that she’d gotten through to the Psychiatric Institute of Washington she laughed before telling me she was looking for you.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking throughly unamused.

“Right.” Spencer buttoned his pants but you still clung to him. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

“I’m not your secretary.” He scoffed. “And if I catch the two of you like this again, I will have to report you.”

Spencer frowned at George’s frostiness. He’d never acted like this towards Spencer before. But before Spencer could comment on it, George was turning on his heels and walking away. When you heard the door close, you looked up at Spencer, cheeks still red with embarrassment.

“You have to go?” You whispered, chewing on your lip.

“I just need to put an end to something. I won’t be long if you want to stay a while?” He smiled softly at you and you nodded against the pillow.

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before slipping out of the bed. He grabbed his chip and left the room, twirling it over in his hand as he walked, the doomed feeling setting in.

He felt his hands start to shake as he neared the phones. He couldn’t let himself get sucked back in. He had to end this, shut it down before she got her claws in again. Taking a deep breath he picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

“Hello.” He swallowed.

“Spencie! Or should I say SSA Luke Alvez?” Cat chuckled darkly. “Didn’t get enough of me yesterday? How did you enjoy your gift?”

He took another deep breath to ensure his voice was steady when he spoke. He needed this to be clear. He had to end this now.

“It’s over Cat.” He spoke sternly. “I didn’t take the drugs. I win.”

Before she could respond he yanked the phone away from his ear. And as he hung it back in its cradle, he swore he heard Cat Adam’s screaming down the line.

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator @elle-28 @academiareid

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year

Text

Values - Pt. 3 - Tangerine X Pregnant Reader

Reader gives birth and settles into her new life.

Warnings: Childbirth, dad vibes, so much fluff, nondescriptive sex hinted at.

Part one

Part Two

Tangerine Master Post

Bump keeping you apart, you allowed him to try and teach you how to dance. It was another rainy day and he was cooking you dinner.

“Come on now, relax a little.” You tried to loosen up when a weird feeling washed over you.

“Tan.” You whispered hands leaving his shoulders to crandle your stomach. Wetness pooled between your legs and you went white as a sheet. The moment you were waiting for but also dreading had arrived.

“Oh fuck.” he whispered staring at you. You nodded and he took off out the back door. “LEMON! LEMON - FUCK”

“WOT???”

“FUCKING TIME - IT’S TIME.”

You braced the countertop and tried to keep your breath. You thought about all the things you’d read in preparation, things were hazy. Anxiety making your mind a storming sea. There was no fucking way you were going to remember everything. Why didn't I write it down?

You took more deep breaths as Tangerine flew in through the back door again. He’d packed bags weeks ago keeping them by the front door just in case. At the time you took comfort in knowing it was ready to go and now you were extremely grateful.

He carried them to the SUV as Lemon pulled it up to the front steps. You figured you’d go upstairs and try to put on some makeup, something slightly more presentable than a hoodie, t-shirt - wet panties combo. From what you read, you had a bit of time.

Moving towards the front stairs Tangerine's arms caught you carrying you to the truck.

“Tan - no no we have time.” You tried to talk to him but the look he gave you was unmovable. He was beyond freaked out. He got you in the back seat. Buckled up he handed you a fresh pair of panties.

He got into the front seat and Lemon took off. You as discreetly as possible changed panties, wishing he'd thought of pants.

Contractions hit and you punched the seat in front of you.

“Just breath I’ve got you,” Lemon said before you could say anything you realized he was talking to Tangerine. One hand on the wheel and the other grabbing his shoulder.

Driving well over the limit you arrived at the ER. Tangerine insisted on carrying you in as Lemon ran ahead for a wheelchair. You were so out of it with nerves you didn't argue.

“How can we help?” The nurse at the front desk asked.

“My lady’s got a baby on the way.”

“Right, I’ll ask you some questions before checking you in.” She looked at you and smiled. Tangerine handed her a manilla envelope.

“Medical records”

You had no doubt he’d probably handed her a log of everything that had ever happened to you, with a wad of cash.

“Right.” The nurse looked as if she was trying not to laugh. Your face twisted up and you took a sharp breath.

“Fuck there she goes again, Chop-chop people! Let's go!” Lemon announced patting your back. They got you checked and quickly moved into a room.

Lemon took off to sit in the waiting room on standby in case you needed him. Tangerine spent every moment at your side, except for the occasional cigarette hanging out the window.

Every doctor that came in looked as if they were at gunpoint as Tan stared them down. All fears about having yourself on display or male doctors poking around down there vanished as you watched him stand next to them with his arms crossed.

You wanted to do it the old-fashioned way, nurses and doctors would come in offering to push drugs. You never had to argue with them. You’d shake your head and he would start up.

“My woman said no.”

You knew they weren't offended in the slightest. He’d stand in front of you letting you grip his forearms as you walked the halls up and down. You watched as their eyes followed him, knowing full well he’d won the best and hottest partner award.

You would ask for something and Lemon would show up with it within 10 minutes. Tan even went to the bathroom with the door open just to make sure no one bothered you.

When the time came he encouraged you as you almost broke his hand. Enduring every second of it.

Then the unbearable pain and pressure subsided and a noise rang out. A hearty, pissed-off scream rang out and you collapsed against the bed.

Tangerine moved from your side and you watched as he got handed the center of your universe. Small, sticky, and loud. You watched as his whole world shifted. His eyes filled with an adoration you never experienced. His eyes got misty and he came back to you.

You held the little girl in your arms. Looking at the way she settled. Tan’s arms came around the both of you. You felt him place his wet cheek to your head hiding his tears.

They took her to get her weighed and swaddled. As soon as she was in someone else's hands he sobered up. Going to follow them. Ensuring that they did it right.

“No.” He said firmly in the hallway and you felt the need to get up and figure out what was wrong.

“Look at her.” Lemon’s emotional voice rang out and you settled letting the nurses and doctors help sort you out.

“Quite the family you’ve got miss.” The nurse said giving you a smile.

Lemon carried her in tears streaming down his cheeks. Your daughter was wrapped in a Thomas wrap, that was the sure cause of the hallway commotion.

“She’s perfect.” He whispered handing her back to you. You all sat in silence watching her, wondering how something so magical and wholesome could come from such a messy and chaotic train ride.

_________________

Once you were cleared to leave the doctor came to give special instructions on how to care for the babe and yourself in the coming weeks. Tan took notes and argued different things he’d read making the woman flustered.

“Thanks for everything Doc.” He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a little gift baggy. In his many sleepless nights setting up college funds and other random stuff, he’d managed to sort out thank-you gifts for the staff.

“Why are you like this?” You looked at him with your head turned to the side.

“Oi’ lot’s of people do it. Very trendy at the moment” He challenged you back. You only shook your head and laughed.

____________________

You remembered the pain, but most of all you remembered it as the moment you realized what type of partner he was. Three months had gone by quickly and while you were sure that you loved him there were still doubts.

Ones that he managed to squash one by one.

If your breasts weren't directly attached to you, you felt like you’d rarely see her. He was shirtless 100% of the time holding her, singing her, talking to her…

He’d meal prepped and made all sorts of healing salves for your stitches. The first bit of recovery was actually relaxing despite the lack of sleep. Lemon was around cooking and helping. You couldn't remember a time in your life when people had taken such care of you.

He’d started referring to you as Momma Peach and her as little Cherry. Who needed real names anyway?

You continued your job from distance, your boss didn't mind the time difference and you got to design your office space. Things fell into a happy routine and you enjoyed living your life next to him.

Watching him shower with her pressed against his chest. The way she’d fall asleep to the two of you singing horribly. Waking up to Thomas playing on the TV and Lemon explaining rather complex psychology to her.

Tangerine made it very clear that his interest initially expressed on the train was still alive and well. Him kissing you breathlessly as the little one slept. Giving you no time to explain that you were most certainly out of order for a while. His skillful hands going to work on you leaving you properly worn out and satisfied at the end of every day. You enjoyed reciprocating, his praise ringing in your ears.

“Fuck” He let out a breath holding you tightly to his chest. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“She’s really something.” You whispered in agreement.

“Talking about you, love.”

“Oh.” Your fingers went to wrap around the pendant that he’d placed around your neck. “Tan?”

“Love?”

“What’s so special about this necklace?”

“That it rests overtop the most magnificent tits in history.” his rough hand came and lightly cupped your sore breast.

“Seriously.”You pushed.

“My dad gave it to my mum before he went out to sea. Said it would protect her while he was gone.” He let out a long breath. “But he died before I was born. My mum gave it to me, and said his love would follow me everywhere so long as I kept it on.”

Your heart twisted at the memory of him placing it around your neck. Before you agreed to anything, before you’d fallen for him. His love would stay with you everywhere. The sparrow tattoos on his forearms making a lot of sense suddenly.

“But I’m -” Your voice caught.

“Next to me forever. So it doesn't matter,” he answered in a lighter tone, giving you a squeeze.

“Forever you say?” You questioned.

“And ever and ever,” he answered kissing your neck.

“Big request coming from a guy without a ring” You teased. You felt him tense and realized you probably pushed it a bit too far. He shifted away from you moving around in the dark.

“Hey, Sorry - I was-”

“Peach?” He cut you off coming back onto the bed. He put the lamp on a dim setting and you rubbed your eyes as they adjusted.

“Yeah?”

“Will you marry me?”

Your eyes flew open to see him holding a small box with a diamond band inside. You froze, eyes wide. After a tense breath, you lunged at him.

“Yes!” You squealed before kissing him. Thankfully the little one stayed asleep, as you let him slide the ring on your finger. After a lot more kissing and banter you finally settled again his chest.

“So now with a ring on your finger are you going to call your family?”

“No” You answered immediately, body tensing. The thought of your small bundle of joy surrounded by sharks made your skin crawl.

“Hey, hey.” You felt his strong arms force you back against his chest. “Just curious. Don’t think I could be in the same room as your parents. Just wanted to know what you wanted that’s all.” He calmed you down.

“Family is just us, Lemon and Cherry. No one else.”

“Just how I like it, love” he kissed your temple. “Trust me, baby. You're both safe.”

You nodded and eventually drifted to sleep.

__________________________________________________

Cherry’s first word being Thomas and laughing hysterically while Lemon cheered and Tan swore.

Her running before she walks and causing absolute chaos. Except when Tan is around, then she insists on being carried.

You watching the love she has for her father and feeling yourself start to heal bit by bit. Especially when she’s scared, the feeling almost evaporates from her little body when he picks her up and talks to her.

The ever-growing Thomas the train collection in the house and how much joy it brings you when Tan bitches about it. They end up with a whole train track running in a circle around the living room - which continues to expand into other rooms.

Hanging out with her in the kitchen listening to the two boys cursing loudly as they try to put together her bedroom furniture.

Him having anxiety about her sleeping in her own room, setting up fancy baby monitors in case she needs him in the night.

Eventually having to send her to school, only for her to come home insisting Lemon take her to drop off the next day. Her trying to wingman Lemon off to her teacher. It actually working. Leaving her with Aunty Apple, a wedding and a cousin within the next few years.

Her growing up and Tan attending and helping with every school event. Making it very very very clear that she’s his whole world and if any parent or teacher pulls anything they would be dealing with him and Lemon.

Her being a teenager around 16 or so and suddenly parent intervention became more of a one-on-one thing with you as she asks questions about boys. Not wanting to stomp on her and force her to hide away, you agree to keep her concerns a secret. Tangerine going out of his mind trying to figure out what was going on to the point where you tell her to talk to him. Him handling it less than enthusiastically and suddenly needing to go chop a bunch of wood in the yard.

Her believing in all of Lemon's wisdom and telling him everything she’d observed about the boy she liked trying to make sure he was an alright risk before introducing him to you and Tan.

You finally explaining what she was worried about and that she was asking everyone else but him because she didn't want to disappoint him by bringing home someone he didn't like. She wanted his approval. Him suddenly understanding and feeling a sense of pride.

The boy coming over for dinner and you having to be the buffer between Lemon and Tan grilling him relentlessly. After dessert, there's a tense moment where Tan sighs and asks what movie he’s taking Cherry to. He then tells them that he hopes it’s better than the trailer. Cherry’s face lighting up because she realizes that means she can go out with him.

Her first heartbreak - him offering to kill the boy and you immediately going to grab his arm with genuine concern that puzzled her. Him bringing her downstairs to binge-watch her favorite shows and eat ice cream.

Gosh, I could go on and on.

Keeping requests for this open if people had an idea for another part.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine dad #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #bullet train imagine #bullet train request #tangerine imagine #tangerine fic #tangerine request

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deliciousbasementtrash · 8 months

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. On your way home from work, you encounter an injured superhero. You have seen his secret identity. Now what will he do about it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, verbal abuse, parental abuse, severe injuries

Word Count: 1.5k

Part One: Is that Trash or a Man?

There is calm chaos when working in the emergency room. You get used to the cacophony of beeps and alarms. Of moans, crying, screaming, and arguing. You get used to being on your feet all day and moving from task to task, from patient to patient. You get used to it because there is no other option. People need care and they need it now. You either step the fuck up or switch to a different unit. Or move to a calmer, cleaner, less crime-filled city. Calm wasn’t really my vibe. Maybe externally that’s what I portrayed, but internally my mind craves the chaos of the ER. It craves the chaos of Gotham. And the Gotham ER was an entirely different beast.

I finished nursing school about a year ago. A lot of my peers used it as an out. They went to more stable cities in New Jersey that had better funding and less chance of getting knifed in the staff parking lot. I was one of the only ones that stayed. I definitely was the only one that worked in the hospital. I couldn’t deny the demand for nurses was high, and the paychecks were even higher at Gotham General Hospital. And maybe some small pathetic part of my brain wanted to make the world a better place. I wanted Gotham to be a better place. Every day I worked. I convinced myself that how matter how shitty it got; I was making a difference. Even if it was only a handful of people in the grand scheme of things.

I could convince myself that I mattered. That everyone mattered. That these people deserve more. They deserve better; they deserve a second, third, fourth, fifth chance. If I stopped trying to convince myself of that I know I would give up entirely. Seeing gunshot wounds, stabbings, overdoses, mutilations, burns, crushings, poisonings, beatings, day after day is a lot like erosion of the soul. Little by little it wears you down. You become jaded and jagged with time. Empathy becomes blame. Hope becomes desolate. Love becomes anger. The only thing you can do is gaslight yourself into thinking you’re making a big enough difference. That you’re helping enough people. After all, the brain can’t tell the difference between truth and irony. You tell yourself so many lies, you can start to believe them, right?

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago

“Dad, when is mom coming home?” My small voice asked. I was scared to make Dad yell at me again. I didn’t like it when I made him yell.

“She’s got stage four fucking cancer she is coming out of the hospital in a body bag, y/n.”

I fought the tears that burned behind my eyes. Dad would get even angrier if he saw them. It was stupid of me to even ask.

I felt him turn to me. His eyes bored into my skull. Quickly, I looked down at his feet.

“Have you tried again?” He asked. His tone clipped. I knew he expected a timely answer.

Involuntarily, my fingers ruthlessly picked the skin around my nails. The sting was grounding in a way.

“No, sir. Well yes, I have tried, but I… I failed,” the last word felt like a hot poker being placed through my throat.

“Look at me.” Breathing became difficult, but I looked up at my father. He leaned his face close to mine. I could smell Jack wafting off him. “What good are you? What good is having healing powers if you can’t heal your sick mother?”

The simple hangnail became a chunk of missing skin. I lowered my head. Fighting back tears.

“Sir,” my traitorous voice wobbled as I tried not to cry, “I keep trying but… I don’t think my power is that strong. I can close cuts, fix broken bones, but tumors are… hard.”

My father tilted his head back and laughed. Hard. He grabbed my wrist as quickly as a viper, “If I could put your mother’s cancer in you I would. You’re about as useful as a wet match in a dark cave.”

I couldn’t help the tears that fell down my cheek. It felt like I was involuntarily waving a white flag.

Gotham City: Present Day

I had to be stealthy with my gift. I couldn’t heal every one of the patients to full health right away. That would lead to suspicion. But if I could help it I could stop the major damage. I would heal internal organs. Replenish blood. Reduce ten fractures to two or one. It all depended on timing and if people were watching me.

I was walking home from the hospital. I only lived about three blocks away. I got off shift at around 20:49. I didn’t start my next stretch for another three days. And I was milking my walk home. Stopping to smell the roses or whatever. That is normally not a very smart thing to do in Gotham at night, especially as a woman. But part of me didn’t care.

Earlier, I looked at my phone and frowned when I realized the date.

Thursday, May 19th.

My mom died 16 years ago today. Waves of emotion flooded my senses. Anger at myself for not remembering. Sadness that she had been gone more of my life than she had been in it. Restlessness for what my father might do or say. Some years he likes to reach out. Others he doesn’t. But most of all I was feeling reckless. Like I wanted someone to give me a reason. Obviously, I would only hurt someone to defend myself or others. But there was so much anger living in my body, part of me hoped some idiot would try something with me tonight.

So, I walked home. Slowly.

Normally, you keep your head down and you keep moving. You don’t look or gawk. You listen out of necessity. I was listening just because I could. It was the normal stuff. Men smoking cigarettes and catcalling. Women were offering their nightly services. Random people either praising or damning superheroes. Drug deals. Graffiti artists. Fights. And of course, people who simply were walking home from work. Gotham had range and was never boring that’s for sure.

But something picked up on the very edge of my senses. Despite my better logic, I turned toward the very quiet sound. It could have just been rats, but it sounded so familiar. It sounded like a death rattle. The thing you hear just before shit hits the fan and the patient codes.

Without thinking I ran down the alley toward the sound. At first, it was nothing. Just trash and rats. But then I saw it. He almost blended perfectly in with the shiny black garbage bags. His cape was the same color but reflected the light less.

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” I walked hesitantly forward, grabbing my pepper spray just in case.

The man did not answer, he only garbled and coughed. My work brain took over my fear. Instantly I rolled the man over and began assessing him. I suppressed a gasp when I rolled him over and a familiar cowl mask came into view. It was cracked down the middle. His face was bleeding from an unknown location. His breathing was labored and staggered.

Calmly, I closed my eyes and pressed my hands against his chest.

Oh yeah. Batman was dying. He had several broken ribs. A pneumothorax. A bruised liver, kidney, and pancreas. His cardiac output was a joke. The man had no perfusion.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hold back like I do at the hospital. I just healed. And healed. And healed. I healed him down to his bone-on-bone knees, sprained ankle, and fractured wrist.

God, this guy had a lot of injuries.

I was close to passing out by the time I was done. I had done too much, ate, and slept too little. My powers were demanding when it came to energy. If I didn’t eat or sleep within 30 minutes I was about to pass out next to bat boy himself.

I gave him one last assessment. After double-checking that he would live and that I didn’t miss anything I finally looked at his face again.

This time I gasped. Batman was the billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne? I shook my head like I was clearing cobwebs. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Much like Batman, I didn’t want people to know what I could do. The last time people knew…

Just as I turned and took a few steps I rolled my eyes at my nagging thoughts.

What if someone sees him before he wakes up?

Reaching into my tote bag I pulled out a black medical mask. I not so gracefully MacGyvered it across his exposed face so that it was covered. And with that, I made my way home.

My cat, Hashbrown, eagerly greeted me at the door. I nearly fell asleep locking it. I bent down to pick her up and gave her a kiss on her perfect little cat head. I ripped my gross work scrubs off, threw them in the wash, and crashed on the couch in my underwear before my brain could process what happened.

I healed Batman.

I healed… Bruce Wayne?

Part Two, Part Three

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 7 months

Text

Untitled Caine x GN!Reader oneshot because why not

EDIT: A more polished version of this is now on ao3!!

After writing something close to 20k words of Stereo Souls this week I needed a quick break, and came up with this while half asleep and feeling mopey. It's self-indulgent so if you find yourself thinking "He would not fucking say that" then yeah, you're probably right but eh, this isn't a Caine character study. 🤣

If I ever think of a title and edit this I might put this on ao3 cuz again whynot.

(Sidenote: Yes, the reader appearance is based on the TADC sona I designed for myself. At the time I referred to the sona with she/her pronouns because I didn't mean for it to be anything other than a drawing of my own sona. But I assure you this reader is gender neutral despite sharing a design with a she/her character.)

Word count: ~1700

You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been stuck in the Digital Circus. You think the time is best measured in months, not years, but Jax has suggested otherwise a couple times. But you can’t always tell when Jax is lying to upset you, or telling the truth to upset you.

You try not to be upset at all.

Easier said than done in this place, most of the time.

Caine makes it easier, though you seem to be in the minority with that opinion. His games can be irritating sometimes, but you sense he is trying to make them fun…and the banquets and parties he throws for you and your cohorts afterwards are usually nice.

You think he’s improving, but every time you mention that possibility Jax lets out a cough that usually sounds suspiciously like “Stockholm”.

It is after such a party you’ve slipped out of the tent to wander the grounds on your own for a bit. The sun has gone away for now. You don’t think describing it as having “set” is accurate, but in any case, the grounds are bathed in the bluish glow of nighttime. The moon herself seems to have dozed off in her perch among the chalk stars, so she pays you no mind.

Like the other humans (or perhaps former humans) here, you were given a new form when you arrived. From a distance, you could be mistaken as one of the more humanoid characters, but up close that illusion falls apart. You’re essentially an animated pile of clothing. A hoodie, with the always up hood serving as your head and cartoony, ever malleable and expressive pair of thick glasses serving as your eyes. Your legs are a pair of jeans, the bottoms of which rest on the ground like a floppy pair of feet.

When you’d first caught a glimpse of yourself in a mirror, you’d thought you were invisible…but there’s no invisible body beneath your garments--the garments are you.

You don’t remember your past life--nobody here does. But you know bits of it, and you feel like in some ways you know yourself. Somehow the idea of you being invisible, faceless, nondescript and barely noticeable feels…Well, it feels like a predictable outcome in many ways. As much as predictable outcomes exist in the Digital Circus, anyway.

The others all seem to have something pulling them back to the human world, even if they don’t always know what it is. Jax less so, and Kinger seems to forget the pull just as much you’ve all forgotten what’s pulling you, but it’s there all the same.

Less so for you though.

You just can’t help but feel…you don’t have much to go back to.

Your moping is interrupted--as it often is--but the sudden appearance of two large eyes immediately in front of you. Green and blue.

“Hello there! I was wondering where you’d gone off to,” Caine says, floating back a pace so his eyes aren’t dominating your visual field.

“Oh, uh, hi Caine,” you say, lifting a floppy sleeve in an imitation of a wave.

“What’s gotcha so blue, pal? Aside from the obvious,” he says, gesturing at the artificially blue lighting around you two.

You let out a little laugh at the joke, wringing your sleeves together. “O-Oh nothing, Caine…” you say.

He’s quiet a moment, then lets out a thoughtful hum. “Hmmmmmmmm?” he muses. His eyes stay in place while his mouth and body rotate around them until he’s upside-down. “Nothing?” he repeats, a layer of dubiousness making itself known beneath his usually pompous tone.

“N-Nothing you need to worry about…” you correct.

Caine abruptly rights himself, giving the top of your hood a gentle tap with his baton, causing your hood--your head--to deflate slightly.

“Nonsense!” he cries as you try to push your hood back into a head-like shape. “As ringmaster I am in charge of ensuring all characters maintain their happiness and sanity!” he cries, his irises “closing” into little crescents…which is about as close as he can get to closing his eyes.

At your silence, his eyes open again and he floats downward, leaning in close. “Is it because Bubble didn’t save you guys any angel food cake? I told that little parasite--”

“It isn’t that!” you say quickly, holding up your sleeves and quickly shaking your hood.

“Oh. Excellent!” he chirps. For a moment, you hope the tangent had distracted him, but you realize he’s still looking at you expectantly.

“I was uh…just um…thinking about the human world, I guess…” you admit, one of your sleeves rubbing the other nervously.

“Ahhh yes, that whole affair,” Caine says, his tone both pompous and commiserating. He floats down to join you on the ground and begins walking beside you. “I do apologize for how long the Exit Door is taking. I do still have some new ideas I--”

“I’m not worried about the Exit Door, Caine,” you say. He’s talked about making one before, and you’re told when Pomni arrived, he’d come up with something pretty convincing. But it was no real exit. None of you are sure if his “Exit Door” talk is just another game, some new level he’s designing that he thinks will delight all of you indefinitely, or if he truly is trying to help you find a way out.

Most of the time you’re not sure if Caine even knows.

“Oh?” he asks curiously. “Everyone else is.”

“Well…I’m not not worried about it…” you amend.

One side of his upper teeth raises in an approximation of a quirked brow. “But you just said--”

“I-I mean…I’m worried about it in general I guess, but not right this second,” you clarify quickly.

“Ah. I see,” he says with a small nod. Once again he looks at you expectantly.

“Can I ask you something?”

Caine’s mouth tilts to one side curiously, but after a moment he cries “Certainly!” in his usual showman tone.

“Do you…have any data on who we used to be? Even…what we looked like?” you ask.

“Afraid not, friend!” he declares easily. “In fact, I don’t even know what humans look like!”

You falter slightly, glancing over him in surprise. “Not at all?”

“Not at all!” he says with a grand sweep of his arm. “Think about it. When would I have ever seen a human?”

“I…I suppose…” you say.

“I have inferred some things though!” he declares, raising one finger and puffing his chest as he walks. “Ragatha is the closest. Pomni being a close second. And you being…” He stops walking, one hand scratching his chin. “Perhaps a distant third?” he asks tentatively, as if he’s truly not sure.

You’re not entirely sure either. If Jax’s ears didn’t make him resemble a rabbit more than a human, one could make the case that he’s more “human” than you by virtue of having a solid shape and an actual face.

But you simply shrug and dip your hood in a nod. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Good!” he chirps easily, taking a couple quick steps to catch up to you and once again fall into step beside you. “But why do you ask?”

You don’t think he’s going to stop prodding until you tell him. Or until he decides you need a new adventure to take your mind off of it. Though even after you tell him, he might still think you need an adventure. But either way, it seems your only chance at a peaceful evening is to just tell Caine what’s on your mind.

Still, that’s a bit easier said than done.

“I-It’s just…I don’t really remember specifics about my life…”

“Nobody does!” he chirps.

“Right,” you continue, not particularly phased by the interruption. “It’s…hard to explain, but…s-sometimes…when I look in the mirror and don’t have a face--a real face…it’s…almost a relief?” you say, glancing up at him.

Caine simply stares at you in silence, waiting for you to continue.

“I-I just…feel like…there was something in the mirror I…didn’t like seeing…but I don’t know why…”

One side of his upper jaw raises slightly in a curious expression. “Do you mean in a physical sense? Or more metaphorical?” he asks.

You glance over at him in surprise. You hadn’t expected such an insightful question. If anything, you’d assumed he’d take it literally--that you just didn’t like your human face. Nothing deeper than that.

But even you don’t know if it’s deeper than that.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I don’t remember clearly enough. It’s…just…an impression of how I used to feel, I guess.”

“Hmmmm…” he hums, his fingers drumming on the gums below his lower row of teeth. “Well, good buddy, I’m afraid I can’t help with that.”

You’d give a small, good-natured smile if you could, but you can’t, so you simply flop your arms in a mild shrug. “I didn’t think so. That’s why I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“Bother? Hardly a bother!” Caine cries cheerfully. “Your happiness and sanity are my priority!” he declares, placing a fist against his chest and puffing up proudly.

“W-Well..thanks for um…checking in on me anyway,” you say, wringing your sleeves together awkwardly.

He lifts off the ground again, hovering in front of you. He lays horizontally, his hands folded under his lower jaw. “For what it’s worth though, friend…If you had a face, I’d sure be happy to see it!” he says, poking the bridge of your glasses with one finger.

You sputter in surprise at the remark, and the little touch. He…he surely meant both in the most innocent, innocuous way possible…right?

Caine’s irises close into happy crescents as he rights himself, taking your sleeves in his hands. “Feeling better?” he asks, and you think you hear some genuine warmth in his tone.

Your hood flops forward in a nod. “Y-Yes…thank you.”

“Good!” he crows happily. “Ready to head back? There’s a mousse pie with your name on it!” he grins. Then he pauses, tapping his chin with one finger. “Which I maaaaay mean literally, if that’s your fancy!”

You laugh softly. “Figuratively is fine.”

“Ah, good. Keeps things simple!” he says. He lowers himself to the ground again, and to your surprise, holds out his elbow for you. “Shall we head back, then?”

You’re surprised at the little gesture. You feel your glasses fogging up a bit but quickly lower your hood, trying not to draw attention to it. “S-Sure…” you say, looping your sleeves around his arm.

Life in the circus…isn’t terrible, you decide.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #tadc caine x reader #x reader #my writing #fanfiction #self indulgent #i'm kinda surprised i wrote anything for a show with only one ep because i'm always worried about my writing being contradicted by canon #why i was out of fanfic entirely for a long time #but i don't see myself doing anything much more involved than this until there's more eps out #but this was itching my brain so i wanted to get it out there :3

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 months

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Steeb

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Working in a coffee shop, you have heard and seen all manner of names and spellings thereof, and you’re only human– mistakes happen.

So why’s this guy gotta be such a dick about it?

Quick facts: Friendship – Steve & Reader – Nondescript Reader

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS

Words: 4218

A/N: Back on my coffee shop bullshit because the idea made me laugh :)

You don’t mean to do it.

It’s been a long day, you’re overworked, and so when you hear ‘Steeb,’ (you’re certain you heard it exactly like that), you write it down to the best of your ability and go on with making the drink. You’ve heard plenty of unique names during your tenure working behind the counter of a coffee shop, and been subjected to every possible way to spell even the most common ones, so you don’t even bat an eye. You simply finish making the drink, call out the name as you set it on the counter, and immediately turn to the next to keep the line moving.

After a few minutes the rush has died and the cup is still there, and a tall blond man hovers around, staring at it uncertainly. Starting to fill with dread, you go repeat the drink order in the hopes that he’ll recognize it.

“Oh, yes; that is me…” He frowns at the cup, holds it up, and squints at it some more. He looks as tired as you feel, but instead of replenishing his energy with some sugar and caffeine, he frowns at you and says, in a terse, clipped tone, “‘Steeb?’ Really?”

It has been a long fucking day and you feel a rush of anger blow through you before you tamp it down, put on the smile that you hope doesn’t look as lined with knives as it feels, and say, “I am very, very sorry sir; I must have misheard your name. Please enjoy your drink.”

He waits, opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but thankfully he just takes his drink and goes.

Good riddance.

A few days later you’re wiping down behind the counter after a long rush when he comes in again. He sees you, hesitates, and therefore so do you– but he approaches with a forced smile and you try to relax. He’s not anywhere near the top ten worst customers you’ve ever had to deal with; so what if he got a little snippy when you fucked up his name. Maybe he was having a bad day too. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, and it’s ‘Steeeeeeve.’ ‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve.’”

Nope. Still an asshole. The way he says it is so much like explaining his name to a small child with next to no verbal skills that you nearly grip the cup in your hand to destruction while he watches you. Through great restraint, (and the truly unfortunate need to keep paying for groceries and shelter), you plaster on a smile. “Of course,” you say placidly. His brow furrows in…concern? You wait until you turn away to roll your eyes. You’re not going to mess with food; what kind of monster does he think you are? You prepare him his drinks– but before that you write down his name. Exactly as he said it.

‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve’ wraps at least halfway around the cup and given that he’s the only one waiting you call his name out likewise. It’s petty, and it’s definitely petty the way you take enjoyment in his annoyance as he picks up the cup and follows all the letters.

“Did I do something?” he asks.

Aside from treat me like a fucking toddler? But you can’t say that. Stupid food. Stupid rent. “Of course not sir,” you say flatly. Sometimes you can skate by pissing people off if you seem unaffected enough– some people really do believe you’re that stupid. “I’m just trying to get your name right. Exactly as you say it.”

It doesn’t seem to work on him. However, the way it doesn’t work on him means he…snorts, the corners of his lips turn briefly up, and he walks away with his drinks without lodging a complaint.

…Maybe he’s not a total asshole after all.

The next time he shows up, after ordering, he stares at you for a moment and then brings out his debit card and shows you the name printed on it.

At this point you do know his name (it’s not like ‘Steve’ is actually the hardest name to remember for someone who left such a negative impression on you, even if that impression was a bit of a knee-jerk) but he looks a little amused and wary, like he’s not sure how you’re going to mangle it this time.

You’re not really sure what his deal is, but you know a challenge when you see it. Still, fucking up his name on purpose feels like it violates the spirit of…whatever this thing is. However…

It’s a little slow, so you take a moment to write on the cup, trying to perfectly mimic the print of his name on the card. When his drinks are done you call out the order instead of his name, though you face the writing on the cup towards him. He walks up, his eyes zero in, and he…cracks a smile. A real smile, if a bit wobbly.

He shakes his head as you restock some cups, nods his thanks, and leaves.

You’re probably done now, but that’s a good note to leave it on, you think.

He comes in another time with two people– a reserved woman and a man with a bright smile. They’re both friendly and the new guy is so personable he makes you smile even after a long night of little sleep. Steve seems happy enough today and doesn’t make a fuss about his name, although the both of them watch you for a reaction as though he’s told them. They seem amused, but they all shuffle off after they pay.

Well. You would hate to disappoint.

Natasha and Sam get nice cursive. ‘Sam and Natasha’s Friend’ gets flat print.

Steve sighs heavily, Sam laughs, and Natasha grins wickedly. More customers come in and you forget about them except as a nice note on an otherwise unremarkable day.

You are more than willing to admit Steve is not as much a jerk as he first seemed to be. He must have been having a few bad days himself, to be so snippy, and hey, maybe names were a sore subject with him as they could be with so many others. Trying your best doesn’t mean you’re exempt from being accidentally hurtful. Being as short on patience as you were, (unfortunately, often are these days), you didn’t exactly act as well as maybe you should have either.

So when he comes in and looks a little down, you treat him with a bit more care. He orders something warm and, in your opinion, comforting. When you ask him if he wants whipped cream he shrugs, and before you can say anything else, he says his name in a very quiet voice.

When he walks away you switch out the cup for another size up, break out a special pen, write his name carefully, and go about making the best damn drink you can. The whipped cream towers on the top, you dig out some of the colorful sprinkles left over from a recent seasonal promotion, and you barely put the drink down in the pick-up window before he’s there. He smiles slightly when he sees it (that whipped cream tower is a work of art if you do say so yourself) and he carefully turns the cup around, looking for his name. When he goes a full circle he squints and looks at you.

“Keep looking,” you say and go back to the register.

He stays in the shop to drink it and tries to find his name for a bit before he gives up and gets through the whipped cream and a good portion of the drink before he’s able to hold it up and try again. He glances back at you a few times, as if to ask if you really wrote it. You nod, and he gets back to hunting. When the drink is nearly done he finally finds it– a tiny, careful scrawl just outside the edge of the artwork near the bottom of the cup. When he grins at you, you nod in approval, and he leaves in a better mood than he came in.

That’s the best outcome you can ask for, really.

He comes in at least once a week, most of the time, and you try to do little variations on each visit. The rainbow one with your new huge multi-colored pen goes over well. The attempt at calligraphy makes him smile. Once when you’re really rushed you scratch it out like a simple metal band logo. That gets a little laugh.

One day you’re out of ideas, and out of patience. Every customer is grating, and then there’s…

“How hard is it to remember Bill?” the man snaps.

“I’m sorry sir,” you say and try not to show how tired you are. You’re actually not responsible for this one, but you’re not going to throw your co-worker under the bus. Also, she wrote down ‘Will,’ and you’re having a hard time getting worked up over one letter that’s…basically the same name. But names are sensitive, and you’re really actually not trying to be an asshole. You wish other people knew that. “We’ll do better next time.”

He scoffs and opens his mouth, but there’s someone looming behind him that makes him turn. In a good flash of irony, Steve is the one staring down at him. Not threatening though– his face is more of a ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ frown and it is frighteningly effective. You haven’t even done anything wrong and suddenly you’re questioning your life choices.

Bill takes his coffee and leaves. Steve looks at you and asks, “Was I that bad?”

You shake your head. “I think we were both having a bad day,” you say and start wiping down the counter. Slowly, so you can take a moment for yourself. You don’t get many of those. “Thanks.”

“I’ve been told my ‘disappointed’ face can make almost anyone rethink what they’re doing,” he says.

You smile. “I started rethinking my life, and I wasn’t even the target,” you say and his smile is like a reward. “I’ll…try and find your drink,” you say and go to get to work. But there is no drink waiting and with some dread you come back to ask him what he ordered, because he is a good guy and damn it you’re going to fix this.

But he’s gone, and there’s a folded piece of paper on the counter that you grab and open.

“No coffee today,” reads the note that is signed “Steeb” and you roll your eyes, but it makes you smile.

“PS: Check the back”

You do, and find a little drawing of a coffee cup with your name scrawled in as part of the design. Spelled right of course. You’re not sure if that’s a passive aggressive dig, but honestly, you’ve had way worse.

You fold up the paper and put it away.

The next time Steve comes in it’s at a quiet part of the day, and he hands you a paper and presses a finger to his lips. You stare a bit too long at that but unfold the paper. Your name is decorated with cute cartoon flowers, and what follows is his order.

You roll your eyes but ring him up, and get to work.

The cup gets decorated with a quick hangman’s game, with some of the letters missing from his name and nearly a complete stick figure with several wrong letters to accompany the cartoon execution. (Naturally, ‘b’ is one of them.)

When Steve sees it…well, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile like that. “I’m going to feel bad throwing this one away,” he says, admiring it.

“Take a picture. Doesn’t leak as much,” you say, but his eyes light up and he actually does. “I was joking,” you say, a hand on your face.

“It was a good idea.” His grin is devious. “And embarrassed is a good look on you.”

“Uh huh,” you say and put your hand down. “Didn’t get enough of it your first time around?”

“This one’s better,” he says, taking your comment with the humor you intended.

“Right. Sure.” You start wiping up an invisible spot behind the counter. “Enjoy your coffee.”

“I always do,” he says and takes a long drink before he leaves.

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you smile the rest of your shift.

By now you’re well aware that ‘Steeb’ is Steve, is Steve Rogers, is Captain America, is…yeah. That guy. And you’re actually pretty relieved that it took you a while to figure it out. If you’d known from the start, your initial judgement probably would have been even harsher, and now you know he’s definitely not an ass.

This other guy though…

He looks (and acts) like a Jersey frat boy graduated to a tech bro and he’s been verbally harassing Steve for several minutes now, emboldened by his pack of cronies and the fact that Steve is just stoically taking it. Even the handful of people watching the proceedings are frowning or otherwise giving the douchebag dirty looks, but they seem to be following Steve’s lead and leaving well enough alone. Steve is sitting with his friends Sam (Falcon, he winked at you once holy shit) and Natasha (freaking Black Widow) and while Sam has attempted to diffuse the situation, Natasha has been quietly watching with light but focused interest that, if the guy was smart, should have made him crawl away with a thousand apologies by now.

Alas, he is a moron, and continues mouthing off.

Your manager finishes his phone call and turns the rest of his divided attention to focus on the…Situation. He’s frowning deep, but he just sighs. “He’s not doing anything I can kick him out for,” he grumbles.

“Hmm.” You look at the drink in your hand, and do a little double-take at the name before you realize you just misread it. However, that gives you an idea. “Hey. Your shift is almost through and you haven't taken a break yet.”

He looks at you suspiciously. Then he just looks tired as he takes off his apron. “Please, please don’t let them make me fire you.”

You flit one hand at him while you go to work with the other. “Written up maybe, but who gives a shit. Now go away; plausible deniability won’t manufacture itself.”

He rolls his eyes but he goes. You whip up the obnoxious group’s drinks, paying special attention to Guido Musk’s and making it as…pretty as possible.

When you’re done you put the drinks up, clear your throat, and in your best service-with-a-smile voice, call out, “Grunt!”

The talking stills, and you go on to rattle off his drink specifications, topping it all off with, “…and extra whip, for Grunt!”

He stalks over, scowling, and you brace yourself behind a docile smile as he hisses, “It’s Grant!”

You’d bet the nickel he tossed in the tip jar that that’s not actually his name, but you play along. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” you say and snatch the drink to give his name an exaggerated read-over. Your manager has just messy enough writing that the ‘a’ doesn’t quite close, so your alibi is solid. “Oh, I see, you’re completely right! I’m sorry, I misread it; that’s my bad,” you say and hand it over to him.

He's still glaring. “Who the hell gets called ‘Grunt?’”

“Sir, I’ve written cups for ‘Batman’ and ‘Spock.’” You shrug. “I don’t judge; however someone knows their order is fine.” You smile brightly at him. “Please enjoy your drink!” You then call out the rest of his friends’ orders, and go to the register to help a serendipitously-timed new customer. He pouts and hovers a little longer, but Steve is visibly more relaxed, smirking into his cup as his friends smile and stand down, and even the people who had been watching are now looking at Grant and whispering or laughing with their tablemates. So when one friend claps his shoulder and they all start to leave, he follows.

“Bye Grunt!” Sam calls out cheerfully as he passes through the door, and you duck your head behind the espresso machine as half the store laughs out loud. That is definitely going to get you a complaint, but it’s hard to be too mad about it. Once you’re composed enough not to crack you lift your head, but thankfully Grant is gone. You resolve to do everything in your power to avoid answering the phone today. …Even more than usual.

Later, it’s near close and Steve and his friends are among some of the last to leave. But he stops by the counter. “Thanks,” he says.

“For what?” you say with as much innocence as you can muster. Sam snorts and Natasha rolls her eyes, but Steve smiles. You drop the act and shrug your shoulder. “For the record,” you say, “–there is a difference between an accident, and being petty.”

Steve’s smile shifts more to one side. “Oh, I think I get it by now.” He then grins and says, “I guess it’s a good thing I never tried to use my middle name.”

You snort and shake your head. Natasha tilts hers. “Are you going to get in trouble for that?” she asks casually.

The mood drops a little. Sure, you won’t lose your job, but getting called in front of the manager –even the nice one– sucks. You shrug again, trying to keep it relaxed. “He left too fast to complain, but he might call tomorrow. We’ll see.” Steve and Sam frown deeply, like they hadn’t thought of that, and despite everything it makes you smile a little. “Relax; we’re perpetually understaffed. I’ll just get written up. It’s no big deal.”

“Still,” Steve says and looks at you with a very earnest expression that almost brings you up short. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” you say, and wince at the thought of him going up the chain and making more of a mess. You shake your head definitively. “Trust me, it’s fine. I misread a name. Happens all the time.” You give Steve a look with raised eyebrows. “Happens almost as much as mishearing a customer’s name.”

He blushes. Blushes. But before he can say anything else, Natasha hooks her arm in his, says, “Have a good night,” and leaves with him in hand and Sam following bemusedly behind.

You look around the dirty shop and sigh. Back to work.

After a week Grant-Grunt hasn’t come back, hasn’t called, and you’re just starting to relax when you see him walking past the window just outside. He lifts his head, you freeze, braced for the confrontation, but his eyes widen and he…bolts. Literally, actually, runs.

You blink, and suddenly jolt when one of the customers taking an easy morning is suddenly right at the counter. “Sorry; I didn’t see y–”

It’s Natasha. Smiling patiently as she holds her nearly-empty cup up for a refill. Your mouth works ineffectively to ask her how and when, but reflexively you take the cup, and then immediately check it. That’s her name, in your handwriting. You take a moment to reboot. “How do you do that?”

“Trade secret,” she replies with mild amusement. “Has he made a complaint?”

You shake your head. “Haven't heard a word.”

“Good.” Her smile grows. It’s sort of terrifying. And really hot. “The dark roast is very good today. May I have a refill?”

“Yes ma’am,” you say and immediately go to give her a whole new cup. You resolve to give her anything she asks for. And spell her name right. Every time.

You’re waiting for a sandwich you ordered in a busy shop when someone big bumps into you. As you’re starting to turn it is a familiar voice that starts apologizing profusely with, “I am so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Steve stops when you face him. He actually even squints a little, which makes you laugh. “Am I really that strange looking without an apron?”

He smiles. “I’ve never seen you outside of work.”

“Town is smaller than I thought,” you say and both of you just…stand there for a few seconds.

Then your number is called, and you go to get your sandwich. You come back to where Steve is, just because…well, you don’t know why. He was just surprised to see you outside of work. There’s no reason he would still want to see you. But here you are.

“Apparently I’m not that far behind you,” he says and glances around. “Are you…staying to eat?”

You bob your head, for lack of anything else to do. “I was planning on it.”

“Do you want to share a table?” he says. “It’s pretty busy in here.”

Something in you flips. “That’d be great.”

He smiles. “Yeah?” He then looks around, and points out a table in the corner. “How about there?”

“I’ll be waiting,” you say and go to claim the space. He comes over maybe just a minute later, and as you’re unwrapping your food, you admit, “I sort of wish we could get away with assigning numbers.”

“I don’t know. I’m really partial to the names,” Steve says and gives you a devious little smile over his sandwich.

“Yeah, now you are,” you say, maybe overly teasing just to make sure he gets it. Now’s a good time for a sincere apology, and though part of you rails against it for an honest mistake, you manage to quash it down and say, “I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but just to put it out there– I am sorry for screwing up your name that first time. The shop gets loud and I have seen a lot of names, and even the ‘usual’ ones sometimes get spelled differently. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

He ducks his head and quickly finishes the bite he’s just taken. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed malice; I just…” He looks away. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to explain, but…maybe he wants to. He looks at you again. “People get weird, sometimes, when they see me,” he says with a slight flush of embarrassment. “And it’s all ‘Cap’ this and ‘Cap’ that, so I…I just like hearing my name, you know?”

You nod. “Names are important,” you say and take a bite. He smiles slightly at your easy acceptance, and you both settle in for a nice lunch, and some good company.

It has been a good week, relatively, and the next time he shows up at the shop you're all set, writing ‘Steeb’ with some stars and quickly poorly drawn flags around it, but your new co-worker appears suddenly and swoops in just as you finish with the pen, spiriting the cup away and giving Steve a brilliant smile as she starts making his drink. Steve blinks, and since she can’t see your face from this angle, you give him a look begging him to put you out of your misery.

He smiles sympathetically, dumps a bigger tip in the jar, and moves away. You go pick up the forgotten pastry your co-worker had been getting for another customer, slip it in the wrapper, hand it over, and go to await your reaction just as she finishes cleaning the cup. She instinctively looks at the name as she starts to make the call, then stops suddenly and stares at you like you’re crazy. You gesture at the cup. “He’ll understand. Trust me.”

She shakes her head, then smiles brightly at Steve and chirps, “Your drink’s ready, Cap!”

You roll your eyes as Steve comes to the pick-up with a polite smile that’s definitely tinged with disappointment. But then he turns the cup to see his name, smiles a little more for real, and, despite the expression not budging an inch, tries to scowl at you. “A repeat already?” he asks with a likewise lame attempt at chiding.

“A callback,” you correct. “It’s sweet.”

“If you say so,” he says and picks up his drink. “I hope for a little more creativity next time.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” you say. You’ve been saving the katakana for a special occasion, but if he insists. Then again maybe the ‘b’ sound would be too repetitive so soon? Perhaps it’s time to practice the comic sans idea. You’ll think more about it, later. “Have a nice day, Steve.”

His real smile is so nice. “You too,” he says, with a gentle addition of your name, merely tilts his head respectfully at your co-worker, and leaves.

Said co-worker gapes. You reach around her for a rag and go to clean up some of the milk she spilled since you already know she won’t do it herself. “You have an in-joke with Captain America?” she asks, following along.

“No,” you say. “I have an in-joke with Steve.”

She blinks. “What’s the difference?” She then gets called over by the manager, huffs a put-upon sigh, and toddles off. You shrug. She probably wouldn’t get it anyway. But that’s okay. Steve does, and that’s all that matters.

#steve rogers & reader #mcu reader insert #captain america reader insert #fluff

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