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pupcuck · 2 months

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BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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mooshywrites · 3 months

Note

If your requests are still open, may I request an afab gn reader x Halsin where reader is learning how to wild shape for the first time under Halsin's watch? Maybe deer, panther, wolf, and/or bear? Can be as fluffy or smutty as you wish to write, either is fine. 💜

I'd also be down for either a story trade or commission, too (if you take comms), if requests are closed. 👀 Thank you for offering requests and hope you're well.

A Bear and a Deer

Gn!Reader x Halsin

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - this man was perfectly crafted for fan fiction

Word count - 1.9K

Warnings - wild shifting, very fluffy, angst if you squint, minor spoilers

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“You were beautiful.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You had almost spit out your drink when Halsin said he wanted to teach you how to wild shape that morning.

It was such a peaceful day afterward, you and your companions had all agreed to taking the weekend off. The realm may need saving, but you all knew that spending every day fighting nonstop would have you dead before you could even reach Baldur’s Gate. Astarion had decided to pamper himself by hunting all day, Shadowheart and Lae’zel seemed content to relax in their tents. Gale and Wyll had spent most of the day playing various card games, arguing over the rules the entire time. Halsin was off in the distance, whittling away at a new project.

You might’ve gone to him to see what he was working on, but you were too nervous he would spring his Druidic lesson on you sooner. No, you would wait until he found you again to start. Instead, you tried to force yourself into relaxing. Into taking a break from the horrific news of the journey thus far.

Besides, it was nice to remind yourself there were beautiful things about the world.

Like how the sunshine glinted in flashes across the water of the stream next to your camp. Or how the sky shone a brilliant blue. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily across the horizon. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling in shades of green and gold. The sun casts a warm, golden light over the landscape, warming your skin. You were really starting to take Halsin at his word when he went on long roaming rants about how beautiful nature really was.

As the sunlight danced upon the rippling surface of the stream, you felt a surge of anticipation. Halsin had always been a source of intrigue. His enigmatic smile and deep-set eyes held secrets of a world that existed beyond the realms of mere mortals. You shoved him out of your mind, your imagination having much too much fun trailing over his other more physical advantages.

You were nervous about the impending lesson, unsure of how you could even begin to wild-shift. Halsin was surely a great teacher, but there was a problem beyond that. You weren’t really a Druid after all, and you thought wild shape magic was only possible for Druids who had perfected their skills.

You didn’t have much time to worry more, Halsin walking over to you with a smile on his face.

“Ready?” Halsin grinned.

You nodded hesitantly, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Halsin beckoned for you to follow him, leading you to a secluded clearing in the woods, where the sunlight filtered through the canopy, bathing everything in a warm glow.

"First, you must attune yourself to the energy of nature," Halsin began, his voice calm and soothing. "Close your eyes and breathe deeply."

You followed his instructions, taking in a long, slow breath and releasing it even slower. As you closed your eyes, you focused on the sounds of the forest, the rustling leaves, and the distant calls of birds. The scent of earth and foliage filled your nostrils.

"Now, feel the connection between yourself and the elements around you," Halsin continued softly. "Feel the energy flowing through every living thing, from the smallest insect to the tallest tree."

As you tuned into the natural world around you, a sensation like an electrical current surged through your chest. You tried to focus on what he was saying, but you were completely taken aback by the feeling.

“How can I use magic like this? I’m not a Druid.” You muttered questioningly, your eyes popping open for a moment.

Halsin smiled, his eyes still shut. “You would be surprised with what magic you can achieve when you listen to nature.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to sink back into the cradle of sights and sounds. you didn’t quite believe him, but you couldn’t shrug off the feeling of mana flowing through to your fingertips either. that was something not even a great Druid could fake.

“Now,” Halsin started, “You must imagine being the animal you choose with all of your might. For example, when I want to be a bear, I feel his claws. Feel the weight of his fur along his body. Feel his impulses, his power.”

Halsin started to shudder as he spoke, his eyes glazing over with a yellow tint.

“And then…” Halsin stuttered.

Then, he transformed. His body shaking as it molded into a lumbering cave bear in a flurry of leaves. You looked on in awe, seeing the way he was able to so easily change his entire being. He was large, quite large. You might’ve been afraid if you didn’t know your gentle giant was still in there somewhere. Still, you took a hesitant step back.

Once the bear had its bearings, it… well, he, looked back up at you.

You could’ve sworn the bear was smiling.

It flicked it’s head towards you, as if it was gesturing for you to give it a try.

You took a shaky breath, trying to think of an animal to relate to. It took some time before you landed on ‘deer’.

You used to sit and watch the herds of deer when you were a child, trying to sneak as close as you could in the tall soft grass. You never got quite close enough, the clever deer always bounding away when you got too close.

You couldn’t really say why they had intrigued you so when you were small. Perhaps it was the way their horns sprouted and wound around beautiful as if they were branches reaching for the sky. Or maybe because of how their eyes seemed to hold so much intelligence, twinkling with life and carefulness. Deep down, you knew the real answer.

It’s because they were free. So so free.

They explored wherever they wanted to, their only fear being that of dying. They didn’t have to worry about what people thought about them, what they were going to do the next day, what their place was in the wider univers. Instead, they just surrounded themselves with the beauty of nature and each other, every night spent under the twirling constellations.

You wanted that feeling. That simplicity of life.

You took a deep breath, trying to capture that feeling in your mind. You imagined yourself as free as the deer were, felt the wind ripple through your fur. You felt the sunlight across your back as you settled into the grass. Felt the power and speed in your legs as you ran across a meadow.

You didn’t even hear Halsin shift back to his normal person, too eclipsed by the vision of a deer’s freedom.

Then, to your surprise, you started to transform.

Your body shuddered and convulsed as the magic coursed through your veins. The world blurred around you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The sensation was overwhelming, yet strangely exhilarating.

As the transformation neared completion, you opened your eyes to find yourself standing on four delicate hooves. You blinked in astonishment at the sight of dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting a warm glow on your newly formed fur. You could feel the gentle breeze rustling through your antlers, and the scent of wildflowers filled your nostrils.

Taking a cautious step forward, you marveled at how effortlessly your new deer body moved. The ground felt soft beneath your hooves as you pranced lightly through the clearing. A sense of freedom washed over you, untethered from the burdens of the human world.

Halsin watched with a smile, his eyes filled with pride. "Well done," he called out, but you were already gone.

You ran as fast as you could through the clearing, your chest filling with glee at the rush of the speed.

You could have stayed that way forever, if you didn’t feel the subtle ache of your mana ebbing. You made your way back to Halsin, feeling your form slip away already.

When you finally shifted back into your body, it was almost a hollow feeling. Your mind not quite catching up with you.

“It went away so fast.” You whispered, looking up at Halsin. You didn’t realize you were crying until a tear slipped off your cheek and onto your chest.

Halsin smiled gently and pulled you into a warm embrace. He stood silently like that for a moment, letting himself soak up all of your unexplained feelings. He must’ve known the feeling based on how he was holding you. Like he knew the sorrow you felt quite well.

“You will get stronger, my heart.” Halsin murmured. “You will get stronger and then you can stay that beautiful silver deer as long as you like.”

You pulled away, giggling softly. “I was silver?” You hadn’t thought about what you actually looked at. You were too preoccupied with how everything felt.

“You were beautiful.” Halsin said simply, his eyes shining with reverence.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the clearing, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the fleeting nature of your transformation, you knew that this experience had changed you in ways you couldn't fully comprehend just yet.

Halsin led you back to the camp, where a warm fire crackled in the center. You sat on a worn-out rug beside the fire, feeling its comforting warmth seep into your bones. Halsin joined you, his presence reassuring and calming.

"There is much to learn about wild shape magic," Halsin said softly, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "But I have no doubt that with time and practice, you will become a skilled shapeshifter."

“Does it hurt that much every time?” You asked softly, emotion welling back up in your chest.

You didn’t have to explain what you meant, recognition coming across the Druids face as he turned back to you. The smile Halsin gave you wasn’t filled with pity. It was just a sense of sad yearning. A feeling you realized you knew quite well.

“Sometimes.” Halsin replied. “It’s much easier to be an animal in nature than a person in all of this mess. But not every time.”

“Hmm.” You offered, feeling comfortable silence settle back over the camp.

You looked back towards the trees, knowing the clearing was just on the other side. You wouldn’t put your responsibility to Baldur’s Gate to the side, but your heart was hopeful thinking of the next time. The next time you could be free like that.

Dusk fell over the camp, casting shadows across the landscape. The crackling fire grew brighter, illuminating the peaceful expressions on both your faces. Halsin reached for something from his satchel and handed it to you

You looked down to see a small wooden pendent in the shape of a deer, intricately crafted from birchwood.

"This is a gift," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "A reminder of the freedom you experienced today and a symbol of your journey as a honorary Druid."

"When did you make this?" you whispered, confused at how he could’ve guessed the animal you would transform into. This had to be what he was working on earlier that morning, right?

“Lucky guess.” Halsin chuckled.

“Thank you.” You said softly, taking the pendent and marveling at its simplistic beauty.

Halsin nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Remember, my heart, you are capable of harnessing nature's magic within you. Embrace it, embrace yourself, and let it guide you on your path. And I’ll always be here to help you on that journey.”

As you looked back at Halsin, your chest filled with warmth. Your cheeks flushed slightly before you looked back to the fire quickly.

You weren’t ready to explore the deepening feelings you had for Halsin. Not after everything you had felt that day.

Instead, you relaxed in the evening air, enjoying the beauty of the night.

The crackling fire and the tranquility of the camp enveloped you like a comforting blanket. The stars twinkled above, casting their ethereal glow upon the landscape. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of pine and earth.

‘I wonder’ You thought to yourself, stealing one more glance at Halsin. ‘Could a bear fall in love with a deer?’

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

#Halsin #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate 3 halsin #halsin fluff #halsin fanfiction #halsin fic #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x you #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader

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kingofthering · 5 months

Text

a bunch of notes from Marc Marquez and Max Verstappen’s exchange while commenting a section of the HRC Thanks Days 2023 :

Marc explained the impact of aero on the bikes (and Max completed with what it does on cars) and he reiterated that he hates it, especially when trying to pass someone

Marc said that it wasn't really his thing to talk to other riders during race weekends but they did talk about updates sometimes between same factory riders (comms were asking about Taka) while Max said that he speaks with Checo a lot because of teams meetings mostly

when asked about what he likes to do in the offseason, Max talked about spending time with his family, doing sim racing and resting (said than when he was 18, he felt like he could do anything, now not so much)

Marc said he wasn't interested in Indycar (but liked to watch it)

Max said again that he wants to try to ride bikes but that he's not allowed, Marc told him to make bets with Red Bull Racing so that they allowed him (like, if I win the championship, you let me ride a bike)

Max rode mini bikes for a couple of years when he was a kid (when he was 8) but then stopped to focus on karting

Max enjoyed driving a super GT last year and said that the Super Formula cars look great

Max mentionned how he would like to do Le Mans (24h) (he went there already when his dad was racing)

most difficult race this season? Max : Singapore, Marc : Valencia (not the worst but the most difficult because he had to control his emotions)

best race this season? Max : Suzuka, Marc : Motegi

Max mentionned how he was always impressed at how MotoGP riders get back up after crashes, which prompted Marc to list his injuries this season (both thumbs, one rib, one ligament, one muscle...)

Marc explained that riders get to recover more quickly from their injuries than regular people because it's all they do with their days (doing therapy) and they have access to a lot of people and a lot of machines and it's their job to recover (said he spend 2-3 hours doing recovery in the morning and then 2-3 hours in the afternoon too) (broken bones won't be much faster tho, might just be helped by their health/good diet a little)

Marc then mentionned that of course they race injured sometimes but it's important to know the limit (and then he mentionned Jerez and how he turned an injury of six months into an injury of three years) (said that of course he has regrets about the decision of coming back so early (mentionned that yes at last it was his decision but the doctors gave him the okay first) but now it's done, he wouldn't do it again)

Max's dream team for Le Mans? he's been speaking with Fernando about it and Fernando said he would only want to do it with Max, Max said that he needs to find a lighter teammate (because Le Mans doesn't have minimum weights requirements for drivers and Max said he was "quite heavy") and that Fernando is light already, to which Marc said "I'm lighter than Fernando" while laughing

Marc & Max both said that it was easier to jump from 2 wheels to 4 wheels and Marc mentionned the example of Valentino

Marc said that it's harder to overtake on 4 wheels because of the space needed, yes it was nice to ride alone in the Red Bull Ring (with Mark Webber as his teacher) but he couldn't imagine himself in Monaco with 20 other cars around him

Marc : "When I tried the F1, it was easy because I had Mark Webber there, which was a super nice coach, he was saying to me "brake on that line" and you can arrive with the car and break on that line. Maybe if you lock a bit the front, okay, next lap I will break a bit, but with the bike, I can't tell Max "break on that line", because if he locks the front, he will crash on the gravel."

Max said that maybe he can maybe build up his way to MotoGP by riding Moto3 and Moto2 first and Marc said that he can jump Moto3 because he's too big for it (and Moto3 bikes are really small) but he will feel more comfortable on a Moto2

Marc talked about which parts of the RBR he enjoyed driving when he drove the Toro Rosso in 2017 (didn't like turn 3, enjoyed the high speed corners)

Max said that he can train his neck as much as he wants in the off-season, it will still be stiff at the end of the first day of testing (because in the end, the best training for your neck is still the driving)

Marc completed the previous point by saying it was the same thing for him, you can train in the gym and arrive fit for the tests in Malaysia but on the second day you're destroyed because your muscles are not working the same way when on the bike

Marc said that testing in Malaysia in the winter is the worst and joked that on the last day (which is when they usually test the long runs) they always wish for rain so they don't have to go out

#marc marquez #max verstappen #y: 2023 #hrc thanks days 2023 #3393

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pyrookami · 10 months

Text

The call

Fren normally loved working with David. That was usually because the lone human on the small supply depot in the void between solar systems was not normally this quiet and strange. Fren's species did have trouble with humans expressive faces since their own was mainly carapace and they communicated feelings through pheromones. But this cycle David's usual smile was gone and his laughter that would ring out through comms whenever he told a bad joke or saw a skree mating dance was now silent. In their external excursion suits, or as David called them "jogging suits," Fren could only see a part of David's face as he floated in the zero gravity for some reason starring off into the darkness for some reason.

After watching silently for a moment as both David and his special vacuum welding tools simply floated Fren decided enough was enough and keyed his communicator.

"Engineer David you have been staring off into space for approximately ten units is there a problem?"

Strangely the human appeared to flinch at the sudden breaking of the silence, odd since in Fren's experience very little could actually harm the death world species. so quieter and with less intensity he keyed his comm.

"Engineer David are you all right?"

It took a few moments for an answer to come forth from the human as he collected his tools from around him and seemed to gather his thoughts at the same time.

"Sorry boss kinda got lost in thought there for a moment. It wont happen again ill finish up these last couple seals and we can head back into the nice cozy station."

There it was his usual tone and even a bit of laughter. what thoughts could have caused such a jovial creature such dark and pensive silence for so long?

"If you do not mind Friend David. What thoughts were you lost in that had your usual joviality overwhelmed?"

With a chuckle David began welding two metal composite sheets together to patch the meteorite hole before answering.

"Oh it was just the call of the void messing with my mood. Wondering how it would go if i was to drift off into the literal void you know what i mean?"

in shock Fren stared at the human, to the human who had trouble with the blank faces of the arachnian it was hard to tell what was going on as it seemed that there was something wrong. after looking around to make sure nothing was behind him David maneuvered over to his eight-legged counterpart and waved a hand in front of Fren's primary eyes. the motion achieved its goal of pulling Fren out of his shocked stupor only for the arachnian to embrace his human coworker with four limbs and use his remaining free limbs to maneuver the duo to the air lock. Fren did not release his friend until the air lock ha d cycled and opened into the interior of the station.

"WHOA HEY!"

"Engineer David you are to report to doctor Shulo immediately for psychiatric evaluation and are not to work until i have a clean mental bill of health for you and your thoughts of self termination have ceased."

Before the human could respond he was forced out of the airlock and it was closed behind him.

"Well time to freak out the doc i guess."

#humans are space orcs #hfy #writing practice #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians

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unholyhelbig · 7 months

Note

Can you do a Kate x reader fic where Kate and R are friends and R gets hurt and ends up unconscious for a while and Kate confesses her feelings? Thanks so much, love your work :)

Title: The Sun Also Rises

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4155

Warnings: Injuries, blood, general heartbreak, gunshot wounds, yelling and Ernest Hemingway if you're an English major

[A/n: Can you tell I'm nearing the end of my quarantine by the sheer amount of content I've been churning out? Less than 24 hours and I'm free from my enclosure. Also, did not proofread this one either]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The mission was simple. It was recon. They weren’t supposed to engage unless they were engaged first. Kate Bishop knew this was how things were intended to go, but she also knew that nothing was predictable in the field and no matter how much they prepared for things to go wrong, it was never expected when they did.

Her fingers had gone numb in the cold of the night, her ribs had a dull ache that thrummed with her heartbeat. Kate was pressed against the rocky rooftop, binoculars pressed to her eyes as she watched the abandoned building aptly.

You were on the ground, bundled nice and warm in a van that was parked half a block away. There was a non-descript logo of a cooling company painted on the side, and the meter had been paid off for the foreseeable future. It was a safe zone. It was supposed to be a safe zone.

Kate could feel a burning in her shoulders, took a moment to adjust herself on the rooftop. That was all it took, really. She hadn’t seen the flicker of movement at the base of the building, the way that freight doors were pushed open in the dark.

“Kate,” her partner’s voice came through her comm. It was wracked with static despite the fact that she sat in the epitome of tech. “We might have a problem.”

“What’s going on?”

“Four suits walking my way.”

There was a twinge of fear in your voice. Of course, you could handle yourself against four guys. It was when the weapons came into play that things became questionable. Training didn’t matter, not when bullets ripped through flesh and blood began to pour.

Kate directed her sights to the group of tracksuits that were strolling down the rain-reflected pavement. Kate tightened her grip against the binoculars until her knuckles turned white. She let out the slightest breath as they approached.

She nocked an arrow, pulling it effortlessly from the quiver strapped to her back. Her fingers were damp, still numb. But that didn’t change her accuracy. The two of you waited with bated breath.

The four men stopped a few feet away from your van, lilting their heads as if they were assessing the situation. There was a moment of quiet, it could have been a minute, maybe even two, but to Kate it felt like a century. She could feel the string of her bow cutting into her skin, the shaking in each inhalation of cold air.

“Well, fuck”

You whispered the words before gunfire erupted. Kate thinks that you sensed it before she did, and the second the first flash popped, she released her arrow into the crook of the offenders knee. But there were three more, and while she re-nocked and aimed between the ribs of the next.

There were two more shots fired and Kate didn’t have much of a moment to think. The van was littered with bullet-holes and she used her third arrow to create a line directly to you, wrapped sloppily around a lamp post.

She didn’t wait, not with you. Never with you. If there was any fear of bolstering her bow and swinging down to street level, she didn’t feel it. Both heels of her boots hit the third suits’ chest. She heard a pop that rivaled the scent of gunpowder as he dropped.

Kate wordlessly used her bow to take out the last guy, his gun lowered. Her mind was screaming, even as she smashed the instrument against a temple hard with enough force to break skin. She kicked the gun away, something that seemed of little consequence, but had dalmationed the van.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Kate pulled open the back door of the van. It groaned in response. She could smell the sweet metal before her eyes located you. Screens smoked, laptops going dark, but taking the brunt of the gunfire. You had pushed everything from a bolstered platform, having moved it in front of you for another layer of metal before the gunfire met you.

Smart. You were always so smart, even in distress. It was part of the reason Kate loved having you as a mission partner. That- and you weren’t against playing twenty questions with her through the coms when it was just the two of you.

Kate’s heart broke into a million pieces as she hoisted herself up into the back of the van. Her boots slid on the blood that was slowly seeping across the metal floor. She fell to her knees painfully but didn’t care. Instead, she pushed the table away.

You were curled in on yourself, but despite your coiled stance, she could see the blood. There was so much of it. She could barely hear your stunted breathes, but when she homed in on them, they were fast and shallow. Kate’s fingers pressed against your pulse point. That, on the other hand, was dangerously slow.

“Y/n, stay with me,” Kate rasped out, patting her pockets until she found her phone.

It threatened to slide out of her hands, swipes of blood glowing through the screen. She pressed Natasha’s contact name. Her handler. Her confidant. She only had to say a few words, it was plaguing her voice so deeply, nothing else was needed. “Nat, I need you.”

Three bullets total had hit you. Two in the abdomen and one in the chest. The slight gurgling noise that Kate had heard in the back of the van was a good sign of life, but a bad sign for your lungs. One had threatened to collapse and really; Doctor Cho had essentially said the best thing they could do was make sure that you were stabilized.

She had used the words “make sure she’s comfortable” and Kate must have let out an inhuman noise because Yelena was at her side, gently leading her away from the med bay and towards the closest bathroom. It was an unnatural stainless-steel white compared to the broken state Kate found herself in.

“Malen'kiy yastreb, you have to breathe.”

Yelena’s words were soft, riddled with a quiet accent that held no malice. She guided Kate to the toilet, sitting her on the lid before she pulled as many towels as she could from the dispenser. She warmed water and waited until they were soaked through. Yelena shut off the water and knelt in front of Kate.

She took Kate’s chin and gently started to wipe away the dried blood on her face. Kate’s hands were saturated, her clothes caked with the drying substance. There was so much of it, so much. And while Yelena knew it would be too much to coax Kate into taking a shower, she worked with what she had.

“I should have done more. When they were walking towards her, I waited. We… wanted to see what they would do, and they opened fire, Lena.”

It was a bold move. They had somehow clocked that they were being watched and made a massive play that was bordering on pure aggression. Kate could feel anger form cold in her stomach.

“We will handle it.” Yelena moved to Kate’s hands, working away at the dark red tint. When she said that, Kate knew she meant it. There was a darkness in her eyes that mirrored the underlying sorrow Kate felt in your absence.

They sat quietly for a moment. The only sounds were the scrubbing of Yelena’s efforts and the small sniffs as Kate let her tears hit the collar of her shirt. The words, they were stuck in her throat.

“What if she doesn’t make it?”

Forbade their close proximity, and Yelena would not have heard the question, but her heart broke undoubtedly. She stopped working away at the color, now a dingy orange, something that was manageable and less gory.

Yelena knew how Kate Bishop felt about you. She would have been a terrible assassin if she did not pick up on the soft gestures, the longing looks, and the seconds that sparked between you both while you sparred; your back against the mat, Kate pinning you down with a smile that could only ring in it’s truest form.

She hadn’t admitted it yet, despite the poking and prodding that Yelena forced upon her. After all, their line of work was a dangerous one, and not a place to pine. Life was too short not to ask for what you wanted, and that was truer now than it ever had been.

“We will handle that too, Malen'kiy yastreb. Right now, you have to be with her. When Natasha was in her coma, they said she wouldn’t pull through, but she did. They also said that just being there was what helped her hold on. Talking to her. Perhaps you should do the same?”

It wasn’t a question, not really, because Yelena stood and tapped the side of Kate’s knee to jolt her from her trance. She’d stopped crying, at least, a numbness spreading through her. If she had paid attention to the blood, really paid attention, then she would crumble once more.

Yelena had helped more than she realized, and Kate made a mental note to make it up to her at some point. Despite her rough exterior, Natasha was the one who typically dealt with the feelings. Clint was impossible at it, and Yelena performed in actions rather than words, but Kate didn’t’ need someone to tell her it would all be okay, not right now.

The med bay was mostly empty when Kate returned. There was a nurse in toxic blue scrubs that glanced up at her noncommittedly when she entered, and Kate was oddly thankful for that too. Her eyes darted to your room, a last-minute edition from Tony when one of the team members had an extended stay.

It looked more like an escape pod, bright lights that were dimmed for comfort and a hospital bed. There was a chair that could recline and another one that didn’t. It was built for quarantine if needed, but the door was cracked open.

You looked so small, dwarfed by the machines that worked tirelessly to keep you alive. There was a breathing tube taped to your lips, and a needle had been pushed into the top of your hand. Your stomach and chest had been wrapped with gauze; a small bandage placed over a cut on your brow- so inconsequential.

Kate couldn’t stop the whimper that moved through her lips, but she pressed her fingers against them to stifle the sound. There were so many emotions, so much hurt and anger at herself for not getting to you faster.

She carefully stepped closer, using her stained fingertips to move a strand of hair from your clammy forehead. Kate could hear her tears hitting the scratchy blanket. There was a monitor that beeped along with your heart, and she thought it was much too slow.

“Hi there,” She whispered, taking your hand. It was cold, and she wanted desperately to warm them. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry y/n/n.”

Kate finally broke down, careful with her movements as she sobbed into the small of your neck. You usually smelled of pine, and of the slightest bit of sweat, but all she could get was metal and antiseptic.

“You have to pull through for me, okay? There’s so much we haven’t gotten the chance to do. We haven’t even been on a real mission yet, you know? Clint will never let me live that one down. Getting so fucked up on recon. Who does that?”

Kate paused and waited for your answer. She counted three beeps, before shaking her head and letting out a little laugh. It should have been her in the van, though, the thought of you at her vantage point on the horizon was unheard of.

“You know what, forget the mission, y/n. You know what we really need to do? We need to get you to the beach. God, I’m telling you, it’s just as beautiful as you imagine it to be. My parents have that house on the coast. It’s right on the water, and you can smell the salt from miles away. I’m telling you… miles.”

She let out a small sob, squeezed your hand tightly and kissed your fingers before pressing her forehead against them. She wished they were warmer, she wished you were warm.

“And the sand… people don’t really like sand because it get’s everywhere, and I mean everywhere, but y/n/n, the sun warms it all day and then at night, at night when you can’t see past the darkness of the waves and it’s not as crowded with people and kids, and dogs, you can still hold onto that one bit of morning.

“I had my first kiss there, down by the docks. I remember it so clearly. It was awful. I’m talking open-mouthed, slobbery, and just much too long even though it only lasted seconds.”

Kate chuckled at the memory, shook her head. She looked at you, at your delicate features and the small scars that littered your skin. They weren’t all from today, and she ached for you to explain each and every faded mark while her fingers traced them.

“I remember thinking, this is it? I’ve waited my whole life for this? I was only fifteen, and my life wasn’t all that long of a wait yet, but the older I get, the more I realize that that first kiss isn’t anything special. Sure, we were on the beach, and the sky was this cotton-candy type of pink. It was supposed to be perfect. But it wasn’t, because I wasn’t with the right person.”

She swallowed hard, her mouth was suddenly dry. She wished she had more time. She wished that she could spend another day with you, struggling over road-maps with a red twist of licorice hanging out of the side of your mouth. Kate craved a day where the sun was too strong, and the lemonade just the right amount of sour. She wanted to see the look on your face when you realized how vast the ocean is.

“When you get better, I’ll take you out there. I’ll take you to the beach and we’ll sit on the docks and we’ll watch the sunset. Every single night, we’ll watch the sunset, okay? But we can’t do that if you don’t pull through. If you don’t fight, I’ll never know… we’ll never know if that perfect moment exists.”

Kate cried until she drifted off to sleep, half-draped across your body in the most conscious of ways as if not to disturb you. She stirred once when the nurse came in and checked your fluids. Then twice the next morning when Natasha was there to coax her into drinking some water from a cheap Styrofoam cup.

Nothing had changed in two days, and Kate still remained rooted in her spot, shifting around the room. Clint brought her a change of clothes, and she made him turn around when she stripped and pulled on one of his t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants that were much too big.

Kate protested that she was getting enough sleep, and she would pick at the meals that they brought in for her. She refused to leave your side, sometimes pacing the length of the room in her socks as she told you all about the summer she turned sixteen and her adventures in their vacation home.

Most of the time, she would watch the slow rise and fall of your chest. She had grown accustomed to the rhythm of it. She wouldn’t take her eyes off you, looking for the faintest sign of movement. Something to let her know that you were still there.

A month in, and she was brought a cot, but still squeezed into the small sliver next to you. She watched the lights on the ceiling. Kate told you about all the places she wanted to take you; the small gas station that sold the best fried fish (trust her, it’s safe), and the fair that would occupy the last fifty yards of the pier for two weeks in July.

Two months in, and Natasha finally dared to go past the small opening of the room. She had watched from the window, and Kate hadn’t noticed. She and Clint would stand and talk for hours, taking in Kate’s heartbreak as she read from Earnest Hemmingway’s “The Old Man from the Sea” over and over again.

Natasha had shyly produced a copy of “The Sun Also Rises” before lowering herself into the uncomfortable chair in the room. Kate watched her warily, thanked her for the book. She held her breath until it burned.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s voice was quiet, barely heard over the roar of the machines “Katie,”

“No.”

“As your handler it’s my responsibility-“

“I said no!” Kate was standing now, her voice loud. She would never dare yell at Natasha. She’d never dream of it. For the first three months of their professional partnership, she struggled to even look the woman in the eye. Natasha didn’t flinch, she didn’t say anything. “I’m not giving up on her.”

“We have to prepare for the possibility that she’s not going to wake up.”

“She’s fighting, breathing on her own now, and I’m not going to let you come in here and tell me that she’s not going to come back. You’re the last person I would expect to come in here and tell me to give up. Tell her to give up!” Kate’s voice was losing steam “If this is about resources I can-“

“It’s not about resources, Kate. It’s about you. We’ve been watching you torture yourself for months now and there’s been no sign of brain activity.”

“Will you stop being so clinical about this? This is y/n.” Kate begged, her words finally broke, shattered into a million pieces. “y/n is in there, I know it. She has to be. She has to be because if she’s not, if she’s… fuck!”

Kate was frustrated and exhausted. Her knees buckled and Natasha, with her spy-like reflexes, had her wrapped in her arms in moments. She let Kate cry, both of them uncomfortably on the floor, the tile cool. Natasha soothed her, tucked Kate’s nose against her neck. There was the slightest bit of pine.

“This is all my fault,” Kate murmured when she calmed “it’s all my fault.”

It had been a week after her conversation with Natasha and Kate was still headstrong in her efforts, though the woman’s words never truly left her. She was a good way through ‘The Sun Also Rises’, nodding off between paragraphs.

Kate’s feet were on the bed, the chair expertly balanced on it’s hind legs with the accuracy of an archer. She felt herself tilting back. Truth was, Kate was tired. Not in the physical sense, though her body hurt.

Despite what Natahsa, and Clint, and probably Yelena thought, Kate would be by your side until the end of time. She’d have to forge books about the ocean that had more plot, but refused to pick up a copy of Moby Dick.

Instead, she let out a sigh and closed the book over her fingers, squeezing the bridge of her nose. She thought of the beach, of her first kiss with Mickey Voit. More than anything, she thought of how nice it would be to feel your lips against hers, to see the bright look of life in your eyes.

Kate figured she had drifted off to an uncomfortable form of half-sleep when she heard it.

“You’re not going to keep reading?”

The voice was raspy, barely above a murmur. The words were unpracticed, but they meant everything all the same. Kate nearly tumbled from her chair; the book certainly flew to the ground as all four legs returned to stability.

She must be asleep, dreaming, or dead. Your stare bore into hers, red-rimmed but there all the same. And you were smiling, God, you were actually smiling after all of this time. It was a sight she thought she would never see again.

“Come on, you were getting to the part about never falling in love.”

“Always,” Kate gripped the armrests of the seat, afraid to let go. Fearful that if she did, she’d wake up and all of this would be over. You would be gone. “I am always in love.”

You blew air from your nose and started coughing, a brittle sound that made Kate stir from her position entirely. Damned if this was a dream, you needed a doctor. She’d will herself to sleep if it meant seeing you again.

Kate called for Cho frantically and stepped back when she rushed into the room, followed by two nurses and an intern that she had come to know based on her pitying glances. Kate really wanted to punch her in the face, most times, but was never happier to see her in this moment.

“Good god,” Doctor Cho quickly went to your side.

She dazedly took your vitals, having you squeeze her finger, something you did with some struggle, weakened from your months out of commission. She pressed the tip of her pen to the balls of your feet, checking your mobility, your lucidity as she guided a straw to your lips and you took a tentative sip.

Kate stood out of the way, her fingers pressed to her lips and her eyes watching every single movement carefully. She relished in your voice, however small it was, as she answered questions.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Agent Y/L/N.” Doctor Cho squeezed your shoulder “I’m going to alert the necessary parties and give you two some alone time… this one never left your side.”

There was a call button if you needed her, and the weight of uncertainty seemed to exit the room. The two of you were alone, as you had been for the last three months. Kate hated how pale you looked; how fragile you were. She wanted to pull you close and squeeze you as if there weren’t 78 stitches across your front.

“It’s so weird,” You lilted your head to the side “I had the strangest dream about the beach. I could see it so clearly, even though I’ve never been there.”

Kate hummed, suddenly timid “That is weird, maybe it was Tahiti?”

“Maybe” You chuckled and then winced “Ouch,”

The archer was at your side in less than a second. Out of habit, she had your hand in hers, quickly forgetting that she hadn’t ever done this before the accident. She still struggled to make the right about of eye contact with you so she wouldn’t’ come off as weird.

Kate groaned “This was easier when you were unconscious,”

“Okay? Ouch again?”

“Not… like that. God, I’m sleep deprived, and totally screwing this up. You would think that three months is enough time to work out a way to talk to a beautiful woman without sticking my fist in my mouth.”

She moved to pull her hand away, but you held onto it with strength to let her know that you never wanted to let her go. She looked down at your grasp, and then back up at you with the beginning of tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t tell you the best part about being at the beach. It was beautiful, really, so vivid and calm. The funny thing is, I was always at the end of this dock and the sky was always this pink color.” You frowned, a small crease between your eyebrows “I could hear you all around me, just pulling me to the end of that dock.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, but you were never there, and quite frankly, Katie, I was getting sick of waiting. So, one day I just jumped into the water, and it was startling, cold, but it woke me up… literally, I suppose. My point… I don’t think I would have jumped if I wasn’t trying to get back to you.”

Kate gently closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips so tenderly against yours. It took a moment for your mind to catch up, but when it did, your warm fingers found their way to her jaw, running along the expanse of her skin, breathing her in. She oddly smelled of sand and salt-water.

You whimpered into the kiss when she grazed an aching spot on your ribs and she was quick to pull back, a look of worry on her face “Sorry, oh god, sorry”

“It’s okay, just a little sore” You beamed at her, forehead pressed close to hers. “Was that better than your kiss with Mickey?”

Kate groaned, her nose cold against your cheek as she murmured “You heard that, huh?”

You had heard everything.

#kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Hawkeye #hawkeye fanfiction #request #Angst #Fluff #Angst with a happy ending #Marvel #Hurt comfort #natasha romanoff #yelena boleva #clint barton

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writeforfandoms · 8 months

Text

Listening In 3

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Soap and Ghost finish up their mission, but they still have one loose end to wrap up...

Warnings: Swearing, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), anal sex (m receiving), teasing, bit of hair pulling, some anxieties, check ins, flirting, Feelings, biting, threesome.

Word count: 4.4k

Finally. Finally. They had a solid lead on their target. It had taken longer than anyone had anticipated, but Ghost and Soap followed through on the intel they'd gathered and got what they needed.

"Good work," Price praised when they called in. "Guess you're all set there. Hop on a flight back."

"Rog," Ghost agreed.

"And one more thing." Price sounded mostly exasperated. "Stop fucking flirting on the comms." He hung up.

Ghost and Soap exchanged a look. Whoops.

"Y' don't think he… actually listened…?" Soap asked carefully.

"No." Ghost was sure. Pretty sure. At least 75% sure.

They exchanged looks. If Price actually listened to some of the recordings… they were in a lot of trouble.

"I'll scrub 'em," Ghost said. "You take care of the flight."

Soap nodded and grabbed the laptop, pulling it over.

But as he looked at the options for flights, his mind wandered to you. Their pretty little waitress. He felt bad, leaving without saying anything to you.

"Hey, LT? Would you be much opposed to staying one extra day?"

"What for?" Ghost eyed him.

"Wrap up one last loose end."

Soap saw the moment that Ghost knew what he meant, and nodded. "Make the arrangements."

Soap nodded, determined, and focused on the laptop again. He still had hours until they'd be able to see you again, but that was okay. They had a lot to take care of first, after all.

–

You groaned softly as you rolled your shoulders, aching and tense after a long shift. You’d been asked to stay late to cover for someone who’d been a no show. While the extra tips helped, the knots in your shoulders and the aching in your feet absolutely did not.

But you finally got to go home and collapse. Well. Maybe a hot shower, then collapse.

“Hey gorgeous.”

You didn’t make a sound, but you did jump, gaze yanked up from the pavement to the two men standing just outside the back entrance. Simon and Johnny.

“Hi,” you replied after a moment, looking between the two of them. “What’re you doing here?”

“Thought we’d walk ye home,” Johnny chirped with an easy smile.

You blinked. You were honestly unsure if he just meant walk you home, or the other kind of “walk you home”. “I’m just getting off a twelve hour shift,” you blurted instead of a proper answer, and then winced at yourself.

“Definitely walking ye back,” Johnny agreed with a nod, stepping over to your side to tuck your hand into his arm. “Gotta make sure ye get home safe, aye?” He winked at you.

You smiled, shaking your head a little. “You’re too sweet,” you murmured, allowing him to steer you out into foot traffic. Simon walked ahead of the two of you, and it only occurred to you after several moments that he was acting as a sort of traffic break for the two of you - he was so broad that people naturally stepped out of his way, and mostly out of yours. It was very sweet of him. “Heard you quit.”

“Aye.” Johnny glanced down at you, licking his lips. “We’re headin’ back tomorrow.”

“Back?” You raised one eyebrow at him, curious, watching the ever-changing lights against his skin.

“Knew this was a temporary thing,” Johnny said after a moment of thought. Your heart clenched and stuttered in your chest, but your expression didn’t waver. “Didn’t wanna leave without tellin’ you, though.”

“Okay.” You weren’t entirely sure how to feel about that. How were you supposed to feel? Johnny was… a coworker. That was all. You’d only spent time together that one time. And Simon you knew even less. They owed you nothing.

But it still hurt, feeling that bit of hope dying. Hope for something more. Friendship, at least, would have been nice.

“Well,” you managed with a smile. “Hopefully it’ll be an uneventful trip for you both.”

Simon glanced back over his shoulder at the two of you but didn’t say anything as he turned onto your street. Huh. That was surprising - you wouldn’t have expected him to remember the way from just one visit.

“D’ye mind if we come up?” Johnny asked, watching you carefully. “Just to talk.”

You hesitated for three long beats, then shrugged. “Sure,” you agreed. “C’mon up.”

Simon held the door for the two of you, and Johnny ushered you into the elevator first. But you opened your door and let them in, taking a quick look around. Okay, you’d left two cups out, but overall it wasn’t bad.

“Can I get you anything?” You were already stepping towards the kitchenette, grabbing glasses from the cabinet to pour water for all three of you.

“We’re fine, gorgeous.” Johnny stood watching you while Simon sank onto the couch, watchful gaze flitting between you and Johnny.

You drew in a deep breath while your back was to them. Okay. You could do this. It would be fine. It didn’t matter that they were leaving. You’d been fine before, and you’d be fine again. Your heart would recover.

“Tomorrow, huh? That’s pretty short notice.” You carried the waters over to your little coffee table, setting them down and then plunking your ass down on the floor. Distance was necessary. If you sat next to Simon you’d slide into his side and not want to leave, and that was unacceptable. “Got everything set up?”

“Aye,” Johnny agreed, settling next to Simon. “Well. Most everything.”

“Most everything?” You blinked at him, curious.

“You’re the last loose end.” Simon finally piped up, eyes dark as he held your gaze.

“Loose end,” you repeated slowly. “Wow. Way to make a girl feel special.”

Johnny snorted. “What he means,” he said, elbowing Simon, “is that we wanted to see ye again.”

“Okay.” You sat back a bit, gaze darting between the two. “So, you’re here. What now?”

Simon leaned forward slowly, bracing his forearms on his knees, hands dangling in the space between. “Now, you have a decision to make. We can leave now and be on our way, and you won’t see us again.”

“Or…?” You sat up straight again, gaze fixed on him.

“Or, we come back in the morning and have you for breakfast before we go.”

Your jaw dropped at the blatant words, even as your body reminded you of how damn good each of them had felt. You swallowed, gaze darting between the two.

“It’s yer choice, gorgeous,” Johnny agreed, tipping his head to hold your gaze.

You swallowed again, blood rushing to your cheeks. “Come back in the morning,” you managed, only a little hoarse. “And bring pastries.”

Simon snorted at your little demand but nodded. “Johnny will text you.”

You nodded, scrambling to your feet as they got to theirs. Johnny wasn’t even trying to hide his grin as Simon stepped past him to the door.

“See you in the morning.” Without warning, Johnny pulled you in close to kiss you, deep and slow and a little messy. When he finally pulled back, you were panting a little, one hand threaded into his hair. With an easy, affectionate smile, he murmured, “Sleep well.” A cheeky wink for good measure, and he was gently pulling back.

“See you tomorrow,” you agreed, taking a step back from him and looking at Simon. He simply dipped his head to you before he opened the door, and the two were gone.

You stood for several long moments before you shook yourself. Shower, then bed. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

–

“Really, Johnny?”

“Couldnae resist.”

A soft, amused huff.

“Not tired yet, are ye?”

“Insatiable.”

“Aye.”

“Hurry up, then.”

–

You were honestly surprised when you slept decently well. You did still panic, just a little, when you woke up. But you only did a bit of panic cleaning.

Okay. You had fresh sheets ready for after, you didn't have to be at work today, you had some snacks still in the fridge just in case. That was… about as prepared as you could be, really.

You breathed out slowly, forcing yourself to stand and just be calm for a minute.

Your phone buzzing at you distracted you, and you picked it up.

En route, 15 minutes out.

That inspired a whole new wave of panic, and you looked down at yourself. No, they wouldn't care what you were wearing, the whole point of this was that you wouldn't be wearing it for long anyway.

At that, you had to cover your face and squeak, just a little. Just to let some of the pressure off.

Okay. Okay okay okay. This was fine, this would be fine. No biggie.

Time crawled for ten minutes, leaving you pacing and anxious and fidgeting. And then it zoomed through the last five minutes, so you were still caught by surprise by the firm knock on your door.

You let them in quickly with a nervous smile, shifting out of the way. They looked damn good, as always. Simon was still all in black, although he wore a face mask and beanie today. Johnny managed to look every bit as good in jeans and a henley as he did in the bartending uniform.

"Hi gorgeous." Johnny kissed you, warm and easy, his hand fitted to your waist. Simon simply nodded to you, setting the box of pastries down. You couldn’t contain your smile if you tried.

“Morning,” you greeted them both. “Can I get you anything?”

“Nah.” Johnny gently guided you back a step, then another, until your back collided with Simon’s chest. “We’ve got it.” He winked, cheeky and cheerful, easily keeping your nerves from getting to be too much. A second set of hands settled at your hips, just holding you.

"Alright, dove?" Simon spoke quietly behind you. Checking in.

He really was more thoughtful than you would have ever guessed from looking at him.

"I'm good," you assured him, resting one hand over his. "How do you want to…?" You trailed off, still not sure how to ask.

Johnny hummed softly and leaned in, kissing you again and pressing you more firmly back into Simon. You were more than happy to let him lead, responding eagerly, even as you felt one of Simon's hands sneak up under your sleep shirt.

"Gonna behave for us?" Simon asked, low and a little growly already. "Let us ruin you?"

You made a breathless noise against Johnny's lips, free hand rising to his hair and tugging gently.

“Think that’s a yes,” Johnny shot back, grinning, pulling back only enough to speak before his lips trailed down your jaw.

You sucked in a sharp breath when he bit down gently on the skin of your throat. One big finger under your chin turned your head until Simon could kiss you, slow and languid in comparison to Johnny’s sharp teeth and eager mouth. You tugged Johnny’s hair again to feel his low groan vibrate into your skin.

“Bedroom?” you managed to ask, only to whine a little when Simon nipped your ear.

“Or right here,” Johnny murmured, licking his lips and looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“Couch definitely won’t fit us,” you pointed out.

“Got a point,” Simon rumbled, and Johnny pouted. Simon patted your hips. “Go on, then.”

Johnny stole one more quick kiss before you led the way into the bedroom, only a little nervous. Johnny fixed that by kissing you again as soon as you paused, pulling you close and sweeping one hand up your back. His hand snuck under your sleep shirt to get at your skin while Simon started tugging your bottoms down.

"So pretty, gorgeous," Johnny murmured into your skin, dragging both hands up your sides now, dragging your top up and off. "Could look at ye all day."

"Maybe not all day…?" You gasped when Simon gripped your hips again.

"Cheeky," he murmured, amused. Sharp teeth nipped the back of your shoulder.

"There's a thought," Johnny murmured, grinning over your shoulder.

Simon huffed softly. "She'd kill you."

"Hey," you protested gently, tugging Johnny's hair again. "Keep talking about me like I'm not here and I'll be mad at you both."

Johnny kissed you again, slower and sweeter this time, while Simon squeezed your hips. And then your ass, making you squeak into the kiss.

"Promise, gorgeous, we'll make ye feel so good," Johnny murmured, eyes half-lidded now as he cupped your breasts. Simon pressed up against your back, shirt soft against your skin. "Gonna let me taste ye?"

"You… want to?" You blinked, surprised and a little shy.

"I really fuckin' want to," he agreed eagerly, licking his lips. "Can I?"

"Okay." You bit your lip, watching Johnny drop to his knees, nuzzling against your belly.

"Watch him," Simon murmured in your ear, his hands moving up to replace Johnny's toying with your tits. "He fuckin' loves when you watch."

You swallowed hard, nerves lighting up as Johnny pressed kisses to your skin. Teeth scraped gently over your hip and you hissed softly, one hand tangling in his hair.

"Pull all ye want," Johnny murmured, eyes bright as he looked back up at you. "Won't stop 'til ah'm satisfied." Apparently that was all the warning you got, because he leaned in to lick a broad stripe up your center. You whimpered, hand fisting in his hair.

"Keep your eyes on him," Simon growled in your ear. One big hand reached down to hook around your thigh, pulling up and out to hold you open. You yelped, free hand flailing back to whack his side, but he just huffed in amusement. "Won't let you fall," he promised. "Just relax, watch him enjoying himself."

And he was. You looked down to find Johnny leaning in again, one hand on your hip, licking into you with enthusiasm. He moaned softly, the sound vibrating against you and making your hips twitch.

It wasn't long until you were trembling between them, making helpless noises and scratching your fingers through Johnny's hair restlessly.

"Fuck," you gasped as he did something that felt amazing. "Please, feels too good, I can't–"

"Come for us," Simon murmured, low and raspy, fingers toying with your nipples. "Come all over his face for me, dove."

The way Johnny groaned, openly wanton, at Simon's words tipped you over the edge, and you moaned for them as you did as Simon bade. Johnny eagerly licked you clean until you were whining, oversensitive, trying to pull away.

Johnny relented, standing up and helping Simon hold you steady. "Want a taste?" He asked Simon with a wicked grin.

Simon didn't bother to say anything, just yanked Johnny closer by the hair, squishing you between the two, and kissed him. You swallowed hard, arousal immediately flaring to life again at the sight. And the sound - Simon groaned, soft and low, and you shuddered hard between them.

Johnny pulled back a little and licked his lips, smirking. "Good?" He asked Simon, clearly teasing.

"Tempting," Simon rumbled back, and you gasped as his fingers slid between your thighs, two sliding into you with almost no resistance.

“Could do somethin’ about that,” Johnny teased, his hand sliding down to join Simon’s, one of his fingers gently circling your clit.

“Later.” Simon nipped the back of your neck teasingly. “Got somethin’ else in mind now.”

You swallowed hard, trembling a little and still sensitive as the two worked in tandem. Having both of them focused on you like this was intense. It was a lot.

And if they planned to do more, you wouldn’t survive it.

"Should we…?" You trailed off, shifting your weight between them as anxiety tried hard to flare up again.

Simon huffed softly, amused, and nipped the back of your neck again. "Eager, dove?"

You squirmed, swallowing hard. "A bit. Bit anxious."

Johnny hummed softly, his hand stilling against you. "Need to stop?" He asked softly, lifting his free hand to cup your cheek.

"No," you decided after a moment, leaning into his hand. "Just… maybe slow down a bit?"

"Anything ye need, gorgeous." Johnny kissed you again, slower and sweeter. You melted into him, relaxing again between the two. Simon pressed up against your back, free hand rubbing circles into your hip. It was an odd mix of soothing and stimulating.

You tugged at Johnny's shirt, and he leaned back enough to pull it off. You hummed softly, taking a moment to admire the view and smiling when he clearly preened.

"He loves being admired," Simon murmured in your ear, fondly amused. "Loves when you watch."

You hummed, tipping your head to observe Johnny. He shucked his pants shamelessly, eyes bright under your gaze.

"You are gorgeous," you murmured appreciatively, dragging your gaze over him. He blushed.

"Ach, away wi' ye," he muttered, flapping a hand.

Simon chuckled, nosing behind your ear affectionately. "He is, isn't he?"

"Mmhm." You smiled. "Thought so from the first night at the bar."

Johnny scowled at the two of you. "The pair o' ye," he muttered, cheeks still pink.

You smiled and pulled him in to kiss him again, hands roaming over newly-exposed skin. He hummed his approval, one hand lifting to cradle the back of your head, his other reaching past you to Simon.

Your anxiety spiked a little bit being between them again. You pulled back slowly, rubbing your hands up and down Johnny’s back, thinking. He raised one eyebrow as a silent check in, and you puffed out a breath.

“Simon,” you murmured, purposefully not looking at him. “I’m gonna move, is there anything you don’t want me seeing?”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through your back. “Just look at Johnny,” he murmured, though he did obligingly remove his grip from you.

You huffed softly, amused, but took a step forward, gently guiding Johnny as he stepped back. He kept his gaze on you, amused and soft, affectionate. You stopped just shy of the bed and then turned the two of you before sitting back.

“Gonna let us do the work?” Johnny asked, amused, even as he crawled up over you until you were laying back.

“Putting you in the middle,” you said, a little amused. “Because I wouldn’t survive it.”

“Good girl,” Simon praised, and you swallowed hard. Soft rustling and crinkling caught your attention, and a moment later a wrapped condom dropped to the bed next to you and Johnny.

Johnny leaned in to kiss you, short and sweet and a little dirty, before he grinned at you. “Wanna help me with this, gorgeous?”

You licked your lips, gaze dropping to the condom he held between you. You took it, idly biting your lip as you carefully rolled it on. And then stroked him slowly a few times, enjoying the weight and heat of him in your hands. His soft groan was addicting, and you hummed softly.

“Having fun?” Simon asked, amused.

“Mmhm.” Your breath stuttered when you felt a larger hand wrap around yours, making you squeeze tighter. Johnny dropped his head to your shoulder, breath warm against your skin.

“Want to learn something new?” Simon still sounded amused, but his voice had dropped, want clear now.

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate for a moment, even as Johnny groaned softly into your skin.

“Tryin’ to kill me,” he mumbled, lips brushing your skin. But he didn’t move to stop either of you.

That big hand guided yours further down and back, folding your fingers down until only one was still pointed. Wetness smeared across your finger and you swallowed, eyes going wide even as Simon guided your finger to Johnny’s ass, pressing in slowly.

“Is this okay?” You tilted your head a little to murmur in Johnny’s ear, noting his hands clenched tight in the sheets.

“More than,” he assured you with a little grin, jaw going a little slack as Simon moved your fingers together. “Feels good.”

“Good.” You watched his expression as Simon added a second finger, nudging yours in along with his. The angle was a little awkward for you, but you didn’t mind, not with this view. He was warm, breaths unsteady and hot against your skin, eyelids fluttering as you and Simon worked together to wind him up.

A high whimper from Johnny made you lift your head a little, curious and more than a little turned on. Simon just made a pleased noise, fingers pressing down and pushing yours down as well. You were about to ask when you felt a little something under your finger, rubbing it slowly, curiously. Johnny swore, voice thick, absolutely trembling between you.

“Always falls apart for this,” Simon rumbled, shifting closer, until you could feel his warmth against your wrist. “Think he’s ready, dove?”

You shivered at his tone, tipping your head again to brush your ears against Johnny’s ear. “What do you think? You ready?”

Johnny nodded rapidly, one hand releasing the bed to grab your hip instead. “Yes, yes, yes–”

You huffed soft amusement, even as arousal simmered higher in your gut. “Think that’s a yes,” you told Simon, starting to pull your fingers back.

It took a moment to get situated, and Johnny helped. A bit. Mostly he just plastered kisses to your throat and shoulder, his hand restlessly running from your hip down to your knee to hike your knee up over his hip.

“Tell me ah can,” he mumbled, lips barely leaving your skin, nearly unintelligible.

“Please.” You got one hand in his hair again, tugging just a little.

Johnny nipped your skin as he slid into you, slow but inexorable. You hummed, squirming a little at the feeling of fullness.

“Hold still, dove.”

Your eyes went wide at the lightly chastising tone from Simon, and you licked your lips. “Sorry?”

He huffed softly, and for a moment his hand squeezed your thigh where it was over Johnny’s hip. “Nothin’ to apologize for,” he murmured. “Just hold still.”

You swallowed, watching Johnny’s face intently as he shivered once, hard, lips falling open with pleasure. Your breath hitched when he twitched in you, your free hand looking for something to grab. Simon took your hand, threading his fingers between yours before pressing your hand to the bed.

His first thrust made Johnny move in you, and you gasped. Simon huffed and did it again. Johnny whined between you, his hips stuttering. You clung tight to the two of them as Simon started to move in earnest, quickly reducing both you and Johnny to noises. You tugged Johnny’s hair at a particularly hard thrust, and he retaliated with a bite to your collarbone that had you whimpering and clenching around him.

“Johnny,” Simon rumbled, his hand squeezing yours. “Don’t neglect our girl.”

Johnny managed a stuttered huff, eyes glazed with pleasure even as he looked down at you. “D’ye feel neglected, gorgeous?” His eyes immediately slammed shut and he whimpered at something Simon did.

“Definitely not,” you managed, squeezing Simon’s hand. But Johnny dipped his head to your neck again, biting down more or less gently. Your back arched, leg tightening around him.

“Good boy,” Simon purred, low and absolutely teasing. But it worked - Johnny nipped his way down to the base of your throat. A finger pressing to your clit had you whining, head tipped back, fingers scratching through Johnny’s hair.

Johnny tensed above you, barely muffling his moan against your chest, hips stuttering between you and Simon. The realization that he’d just come only pulled your own pleasure higher, pushing you closer to the edge. Simon’s low groan pushed you just that much further, too.

But Simon didn’t even pause, and Johnny was quick to bury his face against your neck, finger moving quickly over your clit.

“Please,” he whispered, lips brushing your skin. “Come for us, gorgeous, please, fuck–”

White-hot pleasure crashed over you, briefly whiting out the world. You shook through it, coming back in time to hear Simon’s long, low groan.

Johnny near-collapsed against you, both of you trembling and panting. Simon at least moved to the side, and you dropped your gaze to Johnny instead.

“Wow,” you muttered, still blinking stars out of your eyes.

Simon chuckled, sounding a little winded himself. “No complaints, then?” The words were light, teasing.

“Can’t think straight to complain,” you managed, grinning. Your fingers carded much more gently through Johnny’s hair.

“Good ‘nough,” Johnny mumbled, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.

You lifted your head enough to press a kiss to Johnny’s forehead, about the only part of him you could reach without him moving from where he’d buried himself against you. He was heavy, but this was also oddly comfortable.

Simon was the first to get up with a low grumble, walking over to the bathroom. You didn’t watch him go, much as you wanted to. Instead you rubbed the short hairs on the side of Johnny’s head, grinning at his little huff.

“Do you have to leave soon?” You kept your voice quiet, just above a whisper.

“Mm.” Johnny finally pushed himself up off you. “Not quite yet.”

“Good.” Your smile was small and a little shy, even still. “Thank you.”

Johnny blinked at you, caught off guard. “What for?”

“Telling me. Coming back this morning. All of that.” You waved a vague hand at the bed.

He huffed a soft laugh. “Our pleasure, gorgeous.” He kissed you, softly this time, sweet.

“Will I get to see you again?”

“Hope so.” His smile was small and a little crooked. “See what I can do.”

“Good.” You heard the bathroom door open and grinned, raising your voice a little. “You can even bring him along, too.”

Simon snorted. “Move, Johnny,” he scolded. “Or I’m not saving you a pastry.”

Johnny groaned, theatrically loud, as he rolled off of you and flopped to the side, making you laugh. But you still got up and grabbed some clothes, taking your turn in the bathroom.

You joined Simon in the living room, this time letting yourself sit next to him. His clothes were on straight, mask back in place, but he’d left the beanie off. Wordlessly, he nudged the box of pastries towards you, and you happily picked one.

He didn’t quite invite you to cuddle. But he did press his thigh to yours, letting you lean a little into his warmth. And that was plenty, from him.

You really hoped you’d get to see the two of them again, and you couldn’t deny the ache in your heart after they’d left (with parting kisses from both of them).

So when your phone buzzed with a text two days later, you grinned.

We’ll see you soon, gorgeous.

#listening in #johnny soap mactavish x reader x simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #f!reader #johnny soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #18+#minors begone

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frank1nsaint · 3 months

Text

Franklin Part 1.

You look around the crowd of people, slightly overwhelmed by the turn out at the fair today. It was a Saturday night after all anyone who wanted to enjoy an ounce of fun weekend before work/school on Monday was here. Unfortunately for you crowds weren’t your thing since a fight tended to break out and nowadays a gun would be pulled quickly.

“Damn! he walks like his dick is heavy” you hear

You start coughing choking on your cola

“What?!!” Wanda comments

“She must be talking about Franklin” Lashay adds as you all now looked towards where she looked, Franklin’s crew walked towards them mostly because of Leon but still they made their way towards you

There’s a light laughter between you girls “Girl you crazy!” your best friend who just happens to be your cousin Harmony adds to the discussion

“Oh shit they coming this way yall straighten up!” Tasha snaps quickly adjusting herself clothes

You groan internally you didn’t want to deal with Franklin and his men. You were around them from elementary to now, and right now mentioning Franklin and his men was like mentioning the grim reaper and his minions. After Kevin's death and Franklin’s release, it was like they were untouchable, and anyone who crossed them ended up dead. Franklin didn’t have that innocent aura about him anymore, you couldn’t describe it he was different confident

“Ladies!” Mike Mike greets bowing his head

“Hey y'all” Lashay greets

“What y'all doing here?” Leon asks

“We are at the state fair duh we are here to get some drinks food and have fun” Wanda responds

“The questioning is what are y'all doing here?” Harmony asks

“Shit y'all can’t be the only ones having fun!” Jerome comments

You hang back as the group merges and moves through the fair. You would integrate, often joining the discussion, but for the most part you kinda just chilled in the back and watched as the couples (Tasha/Franklin, Wanda/Leon, Harmony/Sean Louie/Jerome) cupcaked while the rest of you walked at a distance from them.

“Girl Sean talking about making me his girl” Harmony comments as you two finally made it back to your rented out home

“Oh nice!” you say removing your shoes

“You had fun tonight?”

“Yea!” you smile

“Good see it was fun” she says in a “i told you so” mocking tone

“Yea yea whatever!” you wave her off before retreating to the kitchen. You two spend the night conversing before heading off to sleep.

Life goes on and not much can be said about trying to survive and make it in a world that wouldn’t allow you to.

“No,” you look at your cousin with a dead face

“WHYYY GIRL? COMME ONNNN” she begs

“Why do I” you point to your chest, “need to go? Tasha, Lashay, Bri, CiCi they are all going”

“Because cousin, it's a christmas/new years party, damn you wanna be the only bitch in south central staying home on new years eve??”

“You know i don’t like crowds” you argue “and you know damn well that house is about to be packed”

“When will you get to experience partying at a drug lords house again?” she counters

“I would hope never Harmony”

She fake cries “come on girl pleaaassseee” she begs as she hugs you

“Harmony”

“Franklin said bring all your friends you know I cant show up without you”

“Why not?”

“Because you are part of the package”

“Just go with the girls” should

She turns you to face her “Y/N! why don’t you want to come?”

You sigh “i already told you!”

She gives you a light push “Fine, be boring, have no social life, have no love life, just survive, Work, school, home, bills thats it???” She throws her hands up when you give her a blanks stare in return

You roll your eyes as she walks away. What she said got to you eventually, you didn’t want to only survive, you wanted to live just not around Saint and his men, it's like a body dropped every time he was around.

You ponder for a few days before approaching her, what could hurt a one time party never to be mentioned again at least you could counter if she ever asked you to leave again.

“Whats the dress code?” you ask as you stand by the kitchen counter

“What?” She asks as she mixes the rice on the stove

“For this party” you clarify

She turns to you with a stunned face, mouth a jar wide grin quickly taking over, “you coming?!!!” she asks softly, when you nod she screams and throws her arms around you “OH MY GOD!!!! AHHHH! YES GIRLLLL YESSSS WHAT MADE YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND?”

“Okay calm down!”

“Sorry” she takes a deep breath “I’m just soo excited”

“Yea yea whats the dress code i mean can i show up in jeans or?”

“Jeans girl really?” you shrug “You can or you can get a nice pretty dress stand out, get your hair done, nails?”

“So dress up is the dress code?”

She shrugged “he never said just you know dress nice”

“I can dress nice in jeans”

“In a dress!” she stresses

“Fine” you weren’t going to argue your way through this party

“Ooh girl, I can't wait to go shopping, let me call the girls and then we can plan to go out together!” she comments before returning to the stove. You groan already regretting agreeing to go to this party.

The night of the party approaches quickly and you feel your stomach doing flips, it was too late to tell Harmony you changed your mind, you two were looking for a parking spot in the neighborhood, it seemed like half of south central had already showed up to the party.

You don’t even know how time flew by so quickly, one minute you're in the chair getting your hair done, next thing you're putting on your lipstick, perfume, shoes, now walking towards the door. Watching as people poured in and out of the party.

The chilly LA evening weather was much appreciated as you were not trying to arrive at the house with a thin layer of sweat on your body. Not after you've primped and primed the entire day.

“HEEEEYYYYY!” Harmony greets as you two walk in

“MY BABY IS HERE!” Sean yells on top of his lungs

You stand back as you watch them greet

“Y/N?” you hear your name

You turn to face one of Franklin's men “I’ll take your coat”

“Oh you shrug off your trench coat.”

“I missed you baby” you hear harmony whine in a baby voice you can’t help but laugh

The house was sorta full, you could still see across the room and make faces you knew that wouldn't be the case in the next hour or so. You just know the party was bound to get shut down

You step further in securing the coat check in your clutch.

“Hey” you greet Franklin

“Glad you could make it Y/N” he greets giving you a half hug, you quickly inhale his cologne he smelled good you make a quick note to yourself

“Thanks for the invite, we brought you this” you say handing him a gift bag

“Oh shit you didn’t have to” he smiles at you

You shrug “well my mama said never show up to a person's house empty handed you know”

He nods “what yall get me?” He asks trying to move the tissue paper around

“Oh uh really good wine”

“Expensive wine” Harmony adds

“And some Bourbon”

“Expensive bourbon”

“Okay Harmony!” you look at her incredulously causing Franklin to chuckle

She chuckles “I’m fucking with you girl but” she turns to face Franklin, “my cousin went around turn looking for the best wine for you”

“Oh word?” he turns to face you a bright smile on his face

You feel yourself getting flustered “No I just” you feel yourself blushing “It's a gift and I like to give good gifts” you defend, you don’t even know why you were blushing

“That's true you ever want a good gift you ask her she’ll find some good shit”

You smile “I’m gonna say hi to the girls and boys” you say walking away from them

“Awkward ass” Harmony comments causing Franklin and Sean to burst out laughing. You throw your middle finger at her and keep walking

It wasn’t that you were purposely trying to impress Franklin, it was just a gift. What would it look like showing up with cheap wine and liquor when you kept hearing about the thousands he was moving weekly.He would probably be offended, you heard about his temper.

1 hour you say to yourself as you made your way around the room, thats it thats how long you were staying 1 hour. You eventually find a small group of girls to talk to, avoiding Harmony and the rest as they were either in the circle with Franklin or right near it, in the center of the house. When you turn to look at that area you catch a glimpse of Tasha on Franklin's lap, with a flash she gets up and other women take a seat on his lap, you shake your head internally before returning to the conversation.

The next time you look down at your watch you realise 2 hours had passed. It was already past 11pm and you should have been home by now.

You quickly chug the water you have been drinking, (you weren’t gonna take risks drinking and driving) you slowly push your way through the massive crowd avoiding anyone from that group spotting you. Unbeknownst to you Franklin had his eye on you the entire night. He watched as you stood in the corner and talked to the girls, then back to the kitchen, bathroom, he even saw you spill water on yourself, he smiled slightly before returning to his conversation, no matter where you were tonight he made sure his eyes were on you.

At one point you two make eye contact but you smile and quickly look away. Plus the comment Harmony made awhile back about him looking at you a certain way had you nervous being around the man, you can’t explain it you just wanted to get out of South Central unscathed and gaining the attention of Franklin wasn’t a plan.

“Yea I’m leaving,” you chuckle nervously while handing them the coat check

“Damn before New Years? it's gonna happen in like 40 minutes”

“I know but I kinda wanna start getting home before traffic you know” you explain

You already knew Harmony was gonna be with Sean tonight at his place you begged her to go to his instead of ruining your night with their sexcapeds gladly for you she agreed

He nodded in response “Yea that makes sense, LA traffic can get crazy”

“Yea it can” You open your clutch to pull your keys but find nothing, you frantically push things around to see nothing, your lip gloss, napkins, mints and your wallet

“Shit” you say to yourself as you think back to the night? Did you leave them in the car? Are they with Harmony? Did they drop and you didn’t hear them? Your mind races trying to trace back the night.

“Here you go” he says handing you your coat

“Thanks”

“Leaving so soon?” you hear close to your ear from behind you,

You instinctively tilt your head away, “Huh?” as you continue to check the pockets quickly turning around slowly

You release your breath as you feel the keys in your coat pocket, you look up and see Franklin looking down at you smiling

“FUCK!” you curse internally “Heyyy” you smile quickly turning to glance at where he was to see if anyone else noticed. It was so packed now you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies now

“Leaving so soon?” he asks again pulling his hands behind his back

You giggle nervously “Oh yea I don’t wanna get stuck in LA traffic”

He tilts his head slightly confused “But you just got here”

“No i got here 2 hours ago”

“I didn’t even get the chance to talk to you tonight” You make a face, he chuckles in response “I’m saying i wanted to catch up with you” he shrugs “we ain't really talked since highschool”

“Oh” you shrug “nothing much going on with me”

He smirks “Nah you more interesting than that, I aint even get the chance to tell you look good tonight yet,” You look down at your semi formal sweetheart dress, you were actually glad you agreed to dress up as many women were and you didn't’ want to be the odd one out actually even Franklin was dressed up suit tie the whole shebang

“Oh” you smile “thank you Franklin, you look good too clean up nice”

He removes the coat from your hands gently “how about you stay a little longer?” he bargains

You chuckle nervously this could not be happening “Noo” you reach for the jacket but he puts it behind his back. “Franklin!” you scold

He smiles looking at you “comeon girl you can’t leave right before new years!” he argues

“I don’t like driving at night. You know how the cops are? And its new years too!?” You catch his eyes drifting lower to your cleavage before making their way up to yours. You use that to your advantage and reach around but he quickly moves the jacket the opposite way

“Franklin!” you look towards where he was seating in the center of the house and see a very ugly mug on Tasha’s face and the other women seemed to share the same sentiment glaring in your direction

“Come on its" he looks down at his watch, "only 30 more minutes, that can’t hurt”

“No! Plus looks like Tasha is gonna kill you” you comment

“Tasha?” he looks at where you tilted your head

“Oh shit!” he laughs “I don’t care about Tee”

You cross your arms on your chest “Aren't you two dating?”

“No!”

“Mmmm well you might not be but she believes you two are and I need my coat Franklin” you open your hand out for him to give it to you

“I’ll take you home”

“No how are you gonna get back here plus it's your party don’t be ridiculous!”

“RIdiculous?” He guffaws “I'm not the one leaving a new years party 30 minutes before new years that's the point of the party!”

You huff and look up at the ceiling. You need to find a solution. You would leave the coat but it has your keys! He moves closer smiling at how flustered you were getting (“I just wanna go home”) you think to yourself, this shouldn’t be happening he should be dating Tasha. Why isn’t he? Weren't they over each other at the fair and tonight? What was this some freakyshit they were into or what?

“What is it?” He asks softly bringing your attention back to him, that damn smile, those dimples, nope no Y/N you need to go home

“Franklin I would like to go home please”

“Y/N I told you I’ll take you home”

“What about Tee?”

“Tee can get a ride home, why you keep brining her up?”

“Franklin”

“I’ll take you home. I promise”

“When?”

“Right after the celebration is over!” he smiles slyly

You frown “No thats like at 6am!”

He chuckles you caught on quick “No give me till 1am at least”

You contemplate no way you were getting the coat back that was for sure

“Fine you promise?”

“I promise ima get Dreads or Mikey to take you” You scoff “what?”

You reach around and snatch your coat shocking him in the process

“No you said you were gonna take me home so you needed to take me home not punt me off to your men” you complain as you throw on your coat quickly

He smiles at your brattiness “okay okay i will” he reaches for you

You move away from him “Nope i’m going home goodnight Franklin!”

He sighs, “can you at least let me know you made it home safe?”

“Fine i’ll page Tee”

He groans and you chuckle, he bites his bottom lip as he watches you walk away defiantly

#franklin saint #snowfallfx #snowfall fx #leon snowfall #jerome snowfall #snowfall fanfic #fan fic writing #fanfic #fan fiction #damson idris #imagine #snowfall #franklin saint snowfall #franklin saint imagine #franklin saint fanfic #franklin saint x reader

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photmath · 1 year

Text

Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: cursing

Note: At the end, happy readings! (:

“For how long?” Kylian’s eyes shoot between the team’s psychologist, Dr. Minic, and his coach. Both of their faces are unyielding to the reluctance of Kylian’s voice.

“A month.”

“You want me to uproot my entire life for a month? At someone’s random house?” Kylian is quick to his feet, despite the ache that runs through his sore thigh. He shifts his entire weight onto his crutches and uninjured leg.

“Sit down,” Galtier reprimands, beckoning him to take a seat with an outstretched arm. Kylian lets out a scoff before he takes a seat back in the chair. “You’ve had a blow to your calf. One that you got for being careless! If you had just kept your head leveled and never went for that tackle, you wouldn’t have wound up in this situation.”

Kylian stares out the window behind Galtier’s head, knowing the words were true. Kylian had played reckless; not caring for the fouls he was committing and being frustrated that none of his teammates' passes were connecting. He had committed a dirty tackle early on, him and the other player then continuing to butt heads throughout the game.

And then finally, Kylian got a breakaway, but he was so selfishly aware of his inability to execute the ball that he forced himself through traffic when he should’ve passed the ball to an open Messi. After one too many sloppy touches trying to regain the ball, he felt a searing pain rip through his calf. He was quick to blame the Marseille player, immediately rising to his feet and pushing him. Once the Marseille player got up to shove an off-balanced Kylian, he fell to the floor harshly, only clutching onto his leg.

He wanted to argue to Galtier that his calf deciding to strain was not because of the opposing team and the foul attitude they put him in throughout the game, but it was. He was trying to prove to himself and the team that he could tie up the match if he was just given one more chance. It was something he had been doing since the World Cup; trying to prove to everyone that he still had it in him despite the sour taste of finishing in second place. And after another failed season at PSG, the last way he wanted to end the season was with a loss at home. No Coupe de France. No UCL. And now no Ligue 1 title.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of the city, but not be too far,” Dr. Minic inquires. “A change in environment. Somewhere calm.”

“I can do that at my apartment,” Kylian replies. “Or in Switzerland—anywhere, really.”

Noé Martin, the team’s main physiotherapist, shakes his head, “Somewhere preferably that is one floor and where I can visit regularly.”

Kylian tuts, groaning at the idea of being sent away to the ‘middle of nowhere’ for the next month of his break. His injury was still a day old and they already had an outrageous recovery plan.

“Will you be there to facilitate my recovery?”

Martin nods, “I’ll visit. But you’ll be in good hands, I taught her everything she knows, a bright student of mine.”

“I don’t know her.”

Martin waves Kylian’s worries away, “She’s the best. Quick with her thinking and has dealt with these kinds of textbook injuries. She has a nice yard for you to do some running once you get to that point. Oh, and a good cook.”

“Why doesn’t she work with us if she’s the best?”

“She denied my offer.”

Kylian raises his eyebrows with interest, “Why?”

“I guess you’ll just have to ask her yourself.”

Kylian quiets down as he thinks about it. He didn’t have much of a choice now that everyone sided against him. He could try to tell Galtier that it wasn’t a smart idea but if both the physiotherapist and psychologist recommended it for him, there was no reason to continue discussing.

It was just going to be a month. Living with a complete stranger and her healing hands as Martin put it. Somewhere secluded without the presence of fans and overly eager journalists. He hoped that he could invite some of his friends and family to this place at the minimum.

Kylian leans back into his seat, his fingers running along the metal of his crutches, “When do I start?”

“Today,” Galtier advises. “If you want to be fit for the rest of your break and the next season, what are we waiting for?”

Kylian nods absentmindedly, “Fine, let’s get the month started then, and then I’m coming back to Paris.”

------

“This isn’t exactly a one floor house,” Kylian comments as the view of the wooden house comes into view. It was taller than it was wide. The brown was rich because of the previous downpour that the area had gotten. Despite the windows being closed, the smell of the wet grass was enough to make him sneeze.

Martin looks back at Kylian from the passenger seat, “You’ll be staying on the first floor.”

“Perfect,” Kylian whispers.

The van bounces on the rocky surface as it roars up the driveway. As he looked through the lit up windows, he could make out what seemed to be books on shelves in the first room beside the front door. The upstairs blinds had been drawn up, not minding anyone who viewed the inside. It wasn’t like they could see much anyway because he sure couldn’t. And she certainly didn’t have to worry about peeping neighbors because the last house he saw was over five kilometers away.

Martin and Dr. Minic hop out of the car, quick to aid Kylian onto the ramp that led him to the front door. They then grab his duffel bags and suitcases from the trunk.

“Try not to be sour,” Martin warns. “She’s also finding out about this arrangement just now, too.” Kylian can only muster up an unenthused smile as he comes into contact with the owner, but it quickly morphs into a strained cough.

She wasn't what he had in mind. He thought someone older, perhaps in their forties—knowing that Martin had taught at a university many years ago—so that meant whoever she was had to be older, but she isn’t. She’s around his age. That single piece of information has his irritation dissipating out of his throat and the etched scowl leaves his face immediately.

“This is Kylian,” Martin motions, his palm squeezing around Kylian’s shoulder.

Kylian gives her a timid wave, his crutch swinging with him, “Hi.”

“Hi!” She beams, her gaze glancing down at his boot. “I’m Aurèle, but you can just call me Aurie.” He doesn’t realize his own eyes are traveling down to her smile until he chokes, getting lost in the way her cheeks rose. He never thought a pair of cheeks and the crinkle beside her eyes could make his breathing so difficult to control. Not even the most back and forth game he’s played in had him jutting his mouth open for oxygen like this. “It’s nice to meet you, come on in.”

The three of them follow closely behind her, Martin’s strict glare towards Kylian doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Kylian soaks in his new surroundings for the time being. The small area to the right, the one he was able to see from the car, was a small library. A little circled table with two chairs filled the room, floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the walls of them. Towards the side seemed to be a small closet and restroom. The kitchen is pretty spacious despite a wall covering it from the living room. The dining room and living room seemed to be the main focus of the first floor, and a room hidden behind the kitchen that he couldn’t make out. But what caught his eye the most were the abundance of plants that cluttered walls and ceiling. Some were hanging down like vines while other pots were just held by a rope.

He scoffs.

“Take a seat, I’m sorry everything is a bit cluttered,” she apologizes, pointing to a stack of textbooks on the living room table. Besides that, it wasn’t messy at all, very clean and smelled of rustic leather. “I’ve been in and out of the house, trying to have everything perfect.”

Aurie lets out a nervous chuckle and Kylian’s eyes dart towards her, already feeling light on his feet from the rhythmic sound of her giggle. She isn’t looking at him though, instead looking at her mentor, Martin. For a second there, he almost wants to slap his hand across his face for thinking that sweet laugh was directed towards him.

“Anyway, I know you guys have to get back to Paris, so we can start off quickly with any instructions.”

Dr. Minic nods, pulling out the journal he kept in his back pocket, “I want you to start with monitoring his mood closely.” Kylian rolls his eyes now remembering why he was here in the first place. He decides to focus on the many photos and artwork that hang on the walls. “Kylian has a natural tendency to be easily irritable, but if anything seems too over that line, you note it.”

She nods her head, listening to his instructions despite Kylian sitting next to them. It was a bit unusual to discuss the procedures in front of the patient, but everything needed to be as transparent as possible when it came to the seriousness of Kylian’s injury.

Martin chimes, “You know the obvious protocol, but I want to view your treatment plan before you start. We’re going to go ahead and start recovery in two days, that way some of the swelling can go down. But if his swelling hasn’t gone down to a decent amount, wait one more day. He already knows that he shouldn’t be up and moving around.”

Dr. Minic agrees, closing his journal, “I think that was my only concern. I look forward to seeing you next weekend with an update.”

He suddenly stands and Martin follows suit, directing their attention to Kylian to tell him their goodbyes before she walks them out of the house.

It was an awkward and sudden shift for her too. Just yesterday she was setting up the weekly bingo event for the retirement home she worked at, to having a very animated phone call from Martin. He had to persuade her to open up her home for Kylian, having used her home for previous patients but this one was of course different. She wasn’t harboring the star of the world a couple of days ago.

Kylian on the other hand, is busy on his phone, groaning at the slow service. He was trying to find the address, knowing he was somewhere in the outskirts of Paris but couldn’t pin the exact location.

Entering the living room, she greets him again, a little hesitant on what to do with him, “So um, the downstairs doesn’t necessarily have a bedroom. The couch you sit on turns into a bed, so I’ll have to set it up for you each night until you can do it yourself. Restroom is right over there and everything in the fridge and house, you are welcome to have. Your bags, for the moment, will be in this room over here behind the kitchen—it used to be a bedroom but we had to turn it into a little gym and rehab room.”

Kylian slowly nods his head, too focused on his phone to listen to every word she says. The address had finally loaded; he was only an hour away, not all that far from his drivers.

“Next week, you should be able to go up the stairs more comfortably and you’ll have a bedroom up there. So for the meantime, I apologize that you won’t have much privacy,” she says meekly.

What finally pulls him out of his trance is Aurie reaching down in front of him, he looks up, startled to see her this close.

“Go ahead and rest your leg up on the table,” she pats on the wood. He does it reluctantly. “I’m going to take off the brace and get you on ice, we won’t be doing anything today anyway. Any pain?”

He nods, his eyes pinching closed as she unstraps the boot, “Yeah, a lot. It feels sore.”

“It’s a lot more than sore,” she mutters, a smile forming on her face. Her witty remark has him suddenly on edge, it was her first and it definitely took him by surprise. Aurie had attempted to break the tension, but instead, the corners of his eyebrows were drawn down.

“Who even are you?” He sits up, leaning closer to her. His hand lands right on top of hers to stop her from unbuckling the straps. She tugs her hand away from his contact quickly. It was too warm and soft, way beyond the lines of professionalism, but so was her comment, she realizes.

And his harsh gaze caught her off guard. She knew he was going to be upset because of the change and recent injury, but she didn’t expect his eyes to darken the longer she stared at him.

“I’m a physiotherapist and am going to be in charge of your recovery for the time being.”

His hand wraps around the buckle of his boot, clasping it closed, “Are you sure you're qualified?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t look a day older than me,” he spits.

She’s completely taken aback now. Martin certainly didn’t warn her about this, but she assumed this is what ‘easily irritable’ meant. She sits back, her hands clasping onto her thighs, “I’m sorry, it seems we got off the wrong foot so how about we just restart? I’m Aurie, I’m only a couple of months older than you, not that my age matters, but like what Martin told you, he taught me everything I need to know.”

Kylian bites onto his tongue, his eyes transfixed on her hands fidgeting against her thighs. She was just some months older than him and that seemed to make him lower his walls an inch or two. She was trying, while he certainly wasn’t. Maybe he should start. He rolls his eyes at his thoughts, “Martin seems to trust you, but after taking a glimpse at the books you keep on your bookshelf, I don’t think he was right.”

“Do you want me to call him for you?” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly searching for Martin’s number.

This causes a rise out of Kylian, he sits up further, grimacing as he bangs his leg onto the coffee table. “No.”

“Okay then,” she says, forcing a polite smile towards him. Shoving the stack of textbooks to the other corner of the table, she sits down, his leg still in front of her. “I’m in charge of minimizing the swelling for the moment, can you let me do that? Trust me, the faster you cooperate, the quicker I can be done and out of your hair.”

He watches her hands hover over his leg again, pausing to look up at him, waiting for his permission to continue. He silently exhales, giving her a small nod and she unstraps his boot. Before she takes the brace off entirely, she gets up to retrieve an ice pack to minimize some of the pain he was feeling.

Kylian watches her every step, still stunned at how she held her ground. He had felt a bit guilty for his sudden outburst when Aurie was in the same position he was, and the shooting pain he had down his leg settled him back into his senses, knowing that she was the only one able to take the pain away.

“Are you comfortable this way? You’ll have to be seated like this for at least fifteen minutes,” she asks, crouching down at his leg. He silently nods, letting her do her work.

She slides the brace from underneath his leg while he bites onto his lip to stifle any pain he expected but none came. The only thing he felt were her fingers as they maneuvered the ice pack underneath him. His eyes don’t stray from scanning her crouched frame. The simple task of taking off the boot seemed so easy for her to do, and she did it without causing pain in just a few stealthy moves. Maybe Martin was right, but Kylian wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon.

“I’m going to go ahead and start dinner until the timer goes off,” she glances at him.

“Okay.” He’s completely entranced with the way her hands held onto the timer to set it. She tosses it up before catching it, and then walks towards the kitchen.

“I hope you like stew,” she teases. She looks over her shoulder with a grin and his mouth opens, but then shuts closed. His eyes end up giving away his amusement.

------

“Why don’t you work at PSG if you’re as good as they say?” Kylian asks after too many minutes of silence. He was sitting across from her and she could feel his eyes on her the entire time he ate. He didn’t even seem to care when she caught his stares, just continuing to stare right through her.

The spoon clanks against the glass bowl as she sets it down, “It was just too much of a drastic change. I was there for a month before I refused an extension from Martin.”

“You were there with us?”

“Yes, but I only worked during training, never on the sidelines.”

He nods, it makes sense. He would have definitely remembered her face if he had seen her before because she would’ve stood out like a sore thumb in a group full of men. “Did Martin get on your nerves so much that you decided to leave?”

She smiles, taking in the kind light that glowed on his features. He didn’t seem as upset as before. Once she had taken the ice pack off of him, he took a nap on the couch and that seemed to have awakened a different man than the one before.

“Not necessarily. I was used to chronic injuries and chronic problems, that being around acute injuries was different. I’ve worked with older people extensively, so you know, they’ve lived their lives and dreams and everything they wanted to do—or they didn’t—but are still focused on the positives of their life,” she says. Kylian’s eyes don’t waver away from the smile that sweeps across her face.

She shrugs, “And then I was met with Neymar.” She chuckles and Kylian’s shoulders roll forward as he laughs. “I had seen the poor guy everyday. The more I was with him, the more stories he told me, and how he hated not playing. And then he would return to play, but then boom, be back in the room that same day.

“I got too emotional, too sad to know that whatever kind of precautions he took, sudden injuries were possible. Or in his case, because of the playstyle he has, his ankles were always going to be a problem for defenders. I disliked seeing how heartbroken he was and the others alongside him that it made me sad. How some players fight so hard for something and then it can just be gone that quickly or never comes…”

Her voice gradually fades away into a sobering tone and Kylian has to pry his eyes away from hers. He didn’t want to think of his own injury like that, and he certainly didn’t want to reminisce about lost opportunities.

“I would get too upset at seeing him in that room. He became a great friend, but god, did I dislike seeing him under those circumstances. It was like everything we worked on for weeks, anything new I tried on him, was for nothing,” she shudders and glances at Kylian’s wide eyes. Her words had startled him. “Anyway, I’m sorry about going on a tangent, I didn’t think it would get to that—”

“It’s okay, I had asked,” he waves her off, knowing that she sensed the sudden shift of the room.

“I don’t know how Martin does it,” she retreats. “Being the first on the field in a loud stadium like that, I did it once and froze up on the spot.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way her voice changed to being lively. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

She groans, “It isn’t all that much entertaining. It was a simple cramped up muscle, but I just froze up trying to take out the right bottle so I ended up spraying him with water, having grabbed a water bottle by accident.”

Kylian smirks, “But Martin said you were bright and a quick thinker.”

“I usually am, but that was a bad moment—a rookie mistake. After that, I immediately knew I didn’t belong on the field.”

His eyes trail down to her lips, his own heart suddenly soothing at the sight of it. The bubbling feeling rising in his chest is so unfamiliar that he presses his fingers to his chest to stop it.

“I should probably start washing the dishes so we can wind down, we have a big day tomorrow.” She stands up and grabs his dish, walking both of their bowls to the sink.

“I thought I was on bedrest?”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go out to the retirement home with me,” she offers. Aurie’s back is facing him so she doesn’t see the confusion that grows on his face. “We have a bingo match to host.”

“Bingo?”

“Bright and early tomorrow.”

“You can’t be serious,” he deflates. “Martin said I needed to stay out of the public, that’s the whole reason why I’m here.”

She faces him, picking up the sleeves of her long sweater, “They’re in their seventies, they aren’t going to recognize you. It isn’t what you think it is.”

He tilts his head, “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You’re thinking it’s some giant hospital or charity event,” she guesses, and he blinks rapidly. She had guessed right. Shaking her head, she turns away from him and starts washing the dishes, “It isn’t like that. Just a little building that’s about a ten minute drive from here.”

Kylian chews on his lip, knowing that he wouldn’t mind leaving to see what this side has to offer. Feeling the need to help her out despite his injury, he gets up quietly and hobbles towards her with his crutches. He stops beside her, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry off the dishes.

“Kylian!” She scolds, looking down at his leg. “You shouldn’t be standing right now.”

“Let me just help you with this,” he shrugs, his arm grazing hers in the process. “I won’t do it again.”

She fights the smile that wants to break through her lips. It was a kind gesture and it made her feel better. She washes the dishes in comfortable silence, Kylian drying each of them as she hands them over.

As she washes the last pot, she faces Kylian as she hands it to him and he’s already staring back at her. His eyes are glued onto her nose and lips; she turns away, her cheeks burning.

He wants her attention back on him, just another moment to savor the feeling of whatever was brewing in his chest. He grimaces, “Your plant is dying.”

“Which one?” she chuckles, flashing her smile towards Kylian and he loses his balance, immediately clutching onto his crutch. She grabs a hold of bicep, her hand is still wet but neither of them care. Her other soapy hand grabs a fistful of his hoodie, “Are you okay?”

He nods, his ears burning with embarrassment. Never did he think someone’s smile would have him losing balance. “Yeah. And erm—the plant on the table.”

She frowns, “Ah, that one is my niece’s. Her dad, my brother-in-law, got her a plant last Valentine’s and she went on vacation, so it dried while she was gone. She was very upset about it and I promised her I’d revive it, but it might be a goner. I’m planning on just getting her a new one. I hate seeing her sad eyes.”

He smiles to himself, thinking about his own nephew and niece. He needed to call them whenever he got the chance. “You don’t think she’d notice?”

Aurie shakes her head, “Well she’s four, so I hope not. I’m just going to repot the new one because if that pot with pink hearts goes missing, that will certainly cause a stir.”

She leans over Kylian to put away the dried dishes that he had already dried on the dishrack. The scent of her hair engulfs Kylian’s nose and he gulps it down. He steps backwards to give her a little more space, “I think you can do it. Revive the plant.”

She walks in front of him to place the pots in the bottom cabinet, “I don’t know, I’ve been trying for a week. At this point, it’s up to the plant.”

He grins, his lips mocking hers, “It’s up to the plant…”

------

Muffled groans wake her up in the middle of the night. She had left her bedroom door ajar in case something happened to Kylian while he slept downstairs.

The groans only grow louder and she sighs, knowing that Kylian was probably in a grave amount of pain by now. His pain medications had to have worn off some hours ago, given that it was two in the morning. She grabs the box of his medicine and makes her way downstairs. The lamp by the couch was turned on, and it could have only been turned on if Kylian had walked to it—but he shouldn’t be walking at all.

She picks up her pace, rushing down the stairs, and once she comes into view with the bed, she almost shrieks in terror at the sight. Kylian had his head buried in his arms as he laid on his stomach, a girl near his legs massaging both of his calves.

“Who are you?!”

Kylian’s head shoots up from the couch and the girl freezes with her hands on his calves. The stark discoloration of Kylian’s calf just continued to angrily scream back at Aurie.

“What the hell is going on?”

Kylian can only gape in shock as he looks at Aurie. Her shirt had risen up while she slept and the joggers that she had worn earlier were stripped into a tiny pair of shorts that his sudden ability to think was lost, too entranced by the sudden view of her legs.

The weight of the bed shifting causes Kylian to snap back into reality as the girl stands up, “I’m sorry—”

“Who even are you?” Aurie stands about a meter in front of them, her eyes glued to the girl.

“I was just giving him a massage, he was in pain—”

“A massage?” She yells, her fists gripping onto her shorts trying to hold in the anger that rose through her. “Massaging a not even two-day-old strain? Are you trying to ruin his career?”

“What?” She gasps, looking back at Kylian and then Aurie, “No!”

“Then what did you think you were doing?”

Her mouth falls open and then closed, Aurie grows impatient with her lack of response.

“Get out of my house.”

Kylian shifts his weight onto his elbows, “Aurie, wait, she was just trying to help.”

Aurie takes a deep breath, and then pinches herself to make sure her sleep wasn’t deceiving her. As if that girl hadn’t just impeded Kylian’s healing process by days. Another pinch to her thigh to hope that she was hallucinating, that Kylian hadn’t actually invited an entire stranger to her home.

Kylian watches Aurie as she tries to calm down, and heat creeps onto his back as he realizes his own mistake. It slowly dawns on him, “Lucette didn’t know.”

Lucette turns, her brown hair swinging towards him, “We didn’t know.”

Kylian gulps, “We thought it was okay—I was in a lot of pain and it wasn’t going away. It felt like a knot…like it just needed to be kneaded out.”

She runs her hand down her face while her thumbs press into her eyes. She was baffled at their carelessness. Especially at Kylian, he should’ve known better.

Not just with his calf, but also for disregarding the basic communication of bringing someone over while she slept upstairs. He had never asked for permission nor even mentioned it as a heads up. It was one thing if it was in the afternoon to be met with a surprise visitor, but at two in the morning?

She was absolutely livid.

Lucette swallows, grabbing her jacket, “I think I’m just going to go.”

“Please do,” Aurie responds, too upset to be nice and beyond the time to be professional.

Kylian’s eyes grow wide, “Aurie.” Lucette walks towards him, bending down to kiss him and Aurie turns away.

Of course he brought his girlfriend to her place and she wanted to be the savior. The story could write itself. Aurie tries to calm down her breathing.

Lucette beelines towards the front door and Aurie doesn’t shy away from eyeing her down. Kylian was going to get mouthful and she was going to have to tell Martin and Dr. Minic in the morning.

She locks the door after Lucette leaves and lets out a slow exhale while closing her eyes.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to her,” Kylian grits, rolling around to lay on his back. “It’s two in the morning and you really kicked her out? C’mon now.”

She stares at him in silence, still debating what she should say first.

“I needed help and you were sleeping.”

She shakes her head, “So you called someone with no kind of medical background?”

His eyebrows crease, “We had read a bunch of articles on Google.”

“Oh my god, Kylian. You can’t be this stupid. You can’t have made it this far and be this stupid. You have a Grade 2 muscle strain! If it was a Grade 1, yeah, sure you can massage it, but are you kidding? A Grade 2?” Her voice is still hoarse from the night as she places her hands on her hips.

Kylian leans forward, wincing at his leg, “Don’t call me stupid. You were nowhere to be found and I was in a lot of pain.”

“My door was wide open, you idiot! I would have heard you if you were calling out to me.”

“You didn’t hear the front door open,” he taunts.

“Because that was the last thing I expected to happen!” She retorts, “I woke up because I heard you grunting in what sounded like pain, so I got up to bring you your medicine.”

Kylian’s eyes grow as he looks at the box in her hand. After having spent the past hour gnawing his teeth, he didn’t realize she carried the very solution to end it.

“I can’t believe you,” she palms her forehead. “I can’t believe you brought a total stranger to this house. I’m just—”

He doesn’t like the way Aurie’s irritation had turned into utter disappointment, it felt too much like the scoldings he would get when he was in school or ruined a perfect pass. He turns away, his eyes instead focusing on her legs—or on anything else for that matter.

Her vision was still blurred from the grogginess of her sudden wake and the dismay of events that transpired. Her head started to pound.

“You know what, I refuse to deal with this,” she rubs her eyes. “I’m not about to sit here and make a detailed plan and timeline of your recovery while you could care less about it. Quite frankly, I’m not getting paid enough for this.”

She starts pacing towards the kitchen, searching for a glass. She fills it with water and walks where he lay. “You’re only making yourself worse and I am not a therapist for a reason. If you don’t want to do your recovery here, then fine, I don’t care. This was a favor for Martin, not you. So you know what, you can go home tomorrow. And here’s your fucking medicine.”

She rips open the bottle cap and sets a capsule beside his water.

Finished and done with the game he was playing.

“And put a damn pillow underneath your leg when you sleep,” she sneers.

Kylian watches her in complete silence. Too awestriken with what just occurred. First she was kicking Lucette out, and now she was giving him the greenlight to leave. He should’ve felt relieved, that he wouldn’t have to put up with whatever this sudden arrangement was, but he didn’t. He felt guilty again.

He knew that he had messed up and knew that he should have asked her before he let Lucette massage him, but he didn’t think much of it at the time. He especially didn’t think it would cause him further injury.

------

Kylian had woken up in a gross amount of pain the next morning. It had rendered him speechless, afraid that if he moved it would radiate through him worse. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down but he couldn’t. He wanted to call for Aurie but his mind was still repeating the events from the previous night. How willing was Aurie to still help him despite what she said last night and what he had done?

But there she was. He heard the creak of the wooden stairs as she came to him quickly.

“Hey,” she greets. His eyes are screwed shut and his arms are splayed on top of his face. She touches his arm gingerly and he wants to melt at the sound of her voice and touch, wanting to just inch towards her in hopes that the pain drowns away. It seemed to work because it had subsided by a fraction, but it was enough to have him slowly opening his eyes. “Sit up to take your medicine.”

“I don’t want to move,” he stresses.

Her lips tug into a frown, and he stares at the feature, wanting to somehow wipe away the worry. She stands before he can continue thinking of ways to erase her frown, “I’ll help you.”

Kylian hadn’t noticed that he was profusely sweating through his clothes until she tugged at his waist, his shirt feeling grossly stuck to his body. He cringes as he wills himself up. She adjusts a pillow behind him, her eyes already fixed onto his calf.

He swallows the pill and gulps the rest of the water with haste. Her hands are busy unwrapping the compression bandage he wore. His leg had swelled more, and the bandage being tight was what caused him the pain because as soon as she loosened it, he let out a groan of satisfaction.

She takes a moment to examine his leg. Lucette’s massage had done an extensive amount of damage through the night and Aurie’s job to fix it just slowly got delayed. His swelling and purple bruises only seemed to grow, already putting him two more days behind schedule. Martin certainly wasn’t going to be happy.

“Did she massage your thigh by any chance?” Aurie asks, watching Kylian’s chest heave up and down, sweat dripping down his temples.

Kylian nods, wiping the sweat away from his face, “Yeah.”

Aurie stares back at his thigh, trying to peek at his hamstrings to see if there's any discoloration, but she knows she doesn’t have to look to know her answer.

His month-long stay would now have to be a month and a half. Something that neither her or Martin had discussed. She promised her job that she would be back within a month and that Kylian would be all Martin’s responsibility afterward.

But that was no longer her problem, he was going home today anyway.

She lets out an unnoticeable sigh, grabbing the black compression wrap and starts wrapping his leg back up, making sure it isn’t too tight for him.

“Thank you,” he exhausts, his eyes fluttering closed.

Her shoulders only fell back at the sight of him: sweaty and exhausted, his eyebrows creased and his lips parted open. His hands are clenching onto the shorts he wore, trying to distract himself until the meds kicked in. Even if she wanted him to be gone already, to get rid of the fever dream she and him had both experienced last night, she would have to help him in the shower first.

That was going to take a while.

Note: I wasn’t sure to add the people from my other main taglist that I had for my other fics since this is a whole series so uh yeah haha. Just let me know! AHH first chapter, I think I was more excited to finally just get this out here so I could stop looking back at the chapter and trying to add anymore edits--especially after the disappointing loss to Bayern. Anyway, how are we feeling? Any first chapter thoughts? I’ll most likely stay between 6k-10k words for each chapter.

Taglist: @kylianswifey @darlingmbappe

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe fanfiction #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe drabble #kylian x reader #mbappe x reader #em.writes #comme les fleurs

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somber-sapphic · 1 year

Text

No Rest For The Foolhardy

You manage to hide your sickness for days, but of course it's hard to hide how you feel from a Sokovian Witch. (wanda x reader)

Word Count: 2114

DAY 1- It Begins

“Y/n, we’re going to be late!” Wanda called, poking her head into the bathroom where you were painstakingly trying to apply your makeup without getting eyeliner all over your face. It was hard to do with violently shaking hands in blurred vision.

You looked over at the brunette, a smile forming on your badly chapped lips. Even when you were feeling like absolute crap, it was impossible to deny just how beautiful she was. You fell more and more in love with her every day.

“You okay? You look a little rough there babe.” She frowned, taking a slow step into the bathroom. A spike of fear ran through your body and you slammed the eyeliner down, making your smile even bigger.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep very well.” You reassured, walking over to press a little kiss against her forehead. She looked like she’d been expecting a kiss on the lips, but you didn’t dare risk that. You didn’t want her to get whatever nasty virus had crawled into your body and taken up residence in your respiratory system.

“Are you sure? Your cheeks are flushed, are you getting a bug?” Wanda pressed, her eyes boring into your soul as she tried to tell if you were lying. If she really wanted to she could’ve used her powers, but before the two of you even started dating she’d promised that she would never do that.

“Don’t worry about me love, we’ve got a meeting to get to.”

DAY 2- A Losing Battle

Why couldn't the city be attacked at a normal hour? 3 am was far too early to be getting out of your nice cozy bed to put on an uncomfortable uniform and race out of the tower to fight some sort of goop throwing alien. It didn’t speak any English, or any language that any of them knew so there wasn’t any reasoning. Just fighting.

Your body was sluggish as you threw your poison coated knives, only about half connecting with their target. Missing so much was embarrassing, especially when you were aiming for something so big. Wanda kept giving you looks but you were too busy focusing on not passing out to respond over the comms.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing? You’re trying to hit it, not me!” Natasha’s voice crackled over the comms, sounding equally frustrated and worried. They were all worried about you, it wasn’t just your girlfriend who had noticed your odd behavior.

You didn’t respond, just unleashed another knife, this time hitting the thing square in the eye. Impressive for a person with a fever and a cough that rattled your lungs every few seconds and made you gag with the force.

The battle only lasted about three hours, but when you all went back for debriefing your legs felt like jello and you were pretty sure that you could fall asleep standing up. You collapsed into a chair and put your head on your fist, blinking over at Tony as he yelled about something you had done wrong. It was obvious that you didn’t do very well today, but the thing was dead and no one had gotten hurt.

“Tony, give me a break. It’s over.” You grumbled. Your head was pounding and his frustrated yelling and stomping around the room was only making it worse. Wanda reached over and rubbed your knee, assuming that you just had a migraine. You’d taken enough medicine to deal with the fever and congestion for a few more hours, so really it just looked like a bad headache.

“You nearly killed Romanoff!” He snapped back, glaring at you with piercing eyes.

“Almost being the key word. Lay off Y/n Stark, she looks exhausted.” Natasha replied, coming to your defense. You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. It wasn’t that you and Natasha didn’t get along, she was Wanda’s best friend after all, but there had been issues between you from the start. You two often butted heads.

“Really? Whatever, I’m going to the lab. You’re all dismissed. Take a nap Y/n, you clearly need it.” That last backhanded insult nearly made you cry. You were angry with yourself for being so awful during the fight and you just didn’t feel well.

Natasha leaned across the table and took one of your hands in her calloused one, squeezing it gently.

“Don’t pay attention to him kiddo. He’s cranky because he didn’t kill the thing.” That nickname had sparked one of your first fights. You were only a year younger than Wanda who had been called ‘little witch’ since her arrival but that didn’t bother her considering that she was only a teenager when she’d joined the Avengers.

“Thanks Tasha…” You mumbled, a little embarrassed by her attention. Wanda chuckled softly, inwardly pleased by the bond growing between you two. Her best friend and her girlfriend, finally getting along.

“Come on my dear, I know you’ve been wanting to watch that new horror movie.” Wanda smiled, pulling you up out of your seat. A wave of stars danced in your vision but you brushed it off, blinking rapidly to clear them from your vision. A horror movie might actually make you feel better.

DAY 3- Game Night

Game night with movies. A simple, fun night for team bonding and a chance to relax with friends. They all enjoyed it, happy that they could forget about their dangerous jobs and act like normal people.

“Y/n! Twos, do you have any twos!?” Clint demanded, leaning forward as if to interrogate you. Right, Go-Fish. You were supposed to be playing Go-Fish. Of course, it wasn’t normal Go-Fish. There was alcohol involved. Whenever someone was sent fishing they had to take a shot. You were pretty sure if you drank any you’d lose all of the weak control you had over your illness.

You silently handed over the two that you had been cradling against your chest, clutched close to your aching lungs. The bird man let out a whoop and slapped his final four cards onto the floor, all twos.

“It’s Go-Fish dude, you didn’t win the olympics.” Rhody grumbled, pouting slightly. You cracked a little smile while Natasha smirked and Wanda chuckled. They all got so worked up over these stupid games, it was typically wildly entertaining for everyone.

You leaned back against the couch, nestling your head against Wanda’s shoulder. Cuddled close against her you were having even more trouble staying awake, but everything changed when a harsh coughing fit wracked your admittedly weak body.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” The brunette asked gently, sitting you up in her lap to ease your coughing. She rubbed your back as the fit subsided, her expression contorted in pure concern. Her beautiful caramel eyes were full of love, the laugh lines evident even through her worry.

“I’m fine. Inhaled a bug I think.” You grimaced, sticking out your tongue in mock disgust. Her face pulled into one of disbelief and then she laughed, leaning over to kiss you. You cut the kiss short, turning your head to the side so her lips brushed your cheek.

“That's some shit luck Y/n. Who wants to play Monopoly? I’m going to destroy you.” Natasha challenged, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

True to her word, the assassin beat them all in a half hour, much to everyone's joy. She was the only one who actually liked the damn game and she only enjoyed it because she always won. She was a brutal opponent.

“I’m done playing. Watching you guys lose is more fun than playing.” You smiled, cuddling back against your girlfriend. She wrapped her in your arms and kissed your hair, cradling you close while you drifted to sleep.

DAY 4- And So It Ends

Baking. Why did she want to make cookies? You weren’t sure, but you obliged her. She had woken you up all excited about the new recipe she found, nearly bouncing up and down in utter joy. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that your body was on fire and your bones ached. You didn’t have the heart to admit to the cotton stuffed in your head as your illness took full effect. You were miserable. But she was happy. That's all that mattered.

“Baby, I need the sprinkles. Can you grab them?” She asked, stirring the dough with a quizzical eye. She was an excellent baker, always taking extra time to make sure that everything was done correctly.

“Sprinkles? In the cookies?” You asked skeptically, frowning at her. It seemed to you that the colors would just bleed into the dough, leaving the two of you wish brownish, gross tasting cookies. The brunette looked back at you, her eyes glittering with amusement.

“Yes dear, sprinkles. Do you dare question the wisdom of the recipe?” She joked, smiling at you. You shrugged, and stared at the cabinet, far too high above you to reach without climbing on something.

You sighed and managed to drag a chair over, your whole body ready to give in to utter exhaustion. You knew you’d made a mistake when you took your first step onto the chair. With a shaky breath, you hoisted yourself up, wishing that Wanda had given you a lecture of the danger of climbing on chairs.

Blood rushed to your head and you grabbed onto the cabinet doors, hoping to stabilize yourself. If you could just regain your balance it would all be fine. You would be fine.

You repeated that mantra as your vision blurred and you felt yourself falling backwards, stars taking over your vision. As you tumbled to the floor you could hear Wanda yelling your name and felt the warm tingle of her magic envelope you. Sure that you couldn’t crack your head open on the floor, you let yourself succumb to the darkness.

DAY 4- Part 2

When you came to you were laying in your large, soft bed, something cool and damp resting on your forehead. You whined softly and tried to sit up, a wave of panic racing through you. You were supposed to be baking cookies with Wanda, not sleeping.

Arms wrapped around you and you found yourself pinned against the woman’s chest, listening to her rapid heartbeat. Wanda kissed your hair and rubbed your back, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like forever, you confused, but comfortable in your girlfriend's arms.

“You scared the shit out of me!” She finally said, cupping your cheeks in incredibly soft hands. Her hair which had been so expertly done was sticking out of its intricate braid in pieces. She was wearing PJ’s now and her face had been wiped clean of makeup. Nevertheless, she was still beautiful.

“Why didn't you tell me you were sick?” She demanded, pulling back to cross her arms over her chest. The look on her face was angry. She was angry with you. You’d done everything you possibly could to make her happy, but you failed her.

Tears filled your eyes and you felt your lower lip begin to tremble as you began to cry, unable to stop the cascade of your emotions. With the stress of hiding your sickness for the last few days and just how horrible you felt, you couldn’t handle her being mad at you.

“Oh Y/n, sweetie, it’s alright. I’m sorry, you just scared me, that's all. You passed out and your fever was 105, Bruce had you on IV fluids for an hour. Honey, you can't do that, you need to take care of yourself, I need you to take care of yourself.” She soothed, wiping the tears off of your cheeks.

You tried to stop crying, but you just couldn’t. The dam had broken and there wouldn’t be any fixing it.

“My sweetheart, it’s all going to be okay.” Wanda murmured, crawling into bed with you. She wrapped her arms around your waist and you tucked your head against her chest, sobbing quietly into her shirt.

“It’s all going to be okay. Just close your eyes baby, I’m not mad. It’s okay.” She promised, holding you close as you cried out all of your misery. Your throat hurt from all of the tears and you were sure that you’d gotten snot on her shirt, but she didn’t care. She didn’t pull away, just held you and ran her fingers through your hair while your sobs turned to ragged breaths, which in turn changed to soft, even, sleepy snores.

“Sleep well my love. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

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rawmeknockout · 20 days

Note

Hi! Can I get poly TFA Jettwins x human!reader? Just some general SFW headcanons, how it happened/affection/etc. (bonus points if reader verbally beats sentinel's ass because he gave their boys shit about dating an organic and they made fun of him cause he's bitchless) sorry if this breaks any rules/is too complex, have a nice day/night!

01 + Jetstorm for sure found you first, he has more game than Jetfire. He was zipping around the city, hot on the tail of Blitzwing. It was a bit too fortunate that no humans were in the way of danger, but that came to an end when Blitzwing zoomed past you just barely missing you with a wing. Jetstorm, moving too fast to stop or swerve, had no choice but to transform and lift you into his arms to avoid a collision. Good news, he was gentle when plucking you up and it wasn’t so bad of a takeoff for you. Bad news, he’s got an armful of a very cute squishy and the pounding of his spark isn’t due to the adrenaline of the chase. 😔

02 + Blitzwing gets away. Jetstorm hardly gets to introduce himself before he’s getting reprimanded by Sentinel through the comms. As much as he wants to stay and chat you up, much to the bewilderment of Jetfire, they have to return to base. He’s a pretty melancholy and distracted mech after that. It doesn't take long for his brother to catch on. You linger in his thoughts long after the scolding he gets from Sentinel.

03 + How fortuitous that he runs into you while patrolling! He's hard to understand with his thick accent and way of jumbling words, but the two of you are giggling and chatting each other up in such an embarrassing display of puppy love. Jetfire doesn't get it. Jetstorm is totally ignoring him and hasn't even introduced him yet! He's instantly miffed and put-off. From that moment, you start to monopolize Jetstorm's thoughts and time. It wouldn't be a problem, he's a diligent and obedient soldier, but Jetfire doesn't like that you've seemed to weasel you're way between them so quickly.

04 + Safe to say Jetfire doesn't exactly like you. He starts to resent you and hold every interaction against you. Of course, this is more passive aggressive and he tries to tone it down when Jetstorm is around because he knows it will only devolve into a fight between them. He just doesn't get it! How could one organic come between them so quickly! Any solo interactions with you are cold and filled with snippy, short remarks. It's hard to get anything from him other than he just generally dislikes your presence, which is weird because Jetstorm describes his brother as fun-loving and friendly.

05 + Bringing this up with Jetstorm doesn't result in much, because Jetfire just brushes off his brothers concerns and dismisses that anything is wrong or that he even treated you coldly. He just doesn't like organics okay? Sentinel says they spew acid or whatever. Of course, it's a weak defense and it only makes Jetstorm pry harder.

06 + That is, until Jetfire needs your help. It's not really that he could lean on you in a hard time, but he got to see a side of you that he wasn't privy to (which was his own fault). It's after a rather rough battle with the Earth-based maintenance crew. Even Optimus is looking worse for wear and Ratchet is swamped with injuries to treat, including his own. Jetfire actually made it out relatively unscathed, but he has a slowly leaking puncture in his side armor. It's fine, he can wait until Ratchet has treated his brother, but it stings and makes moving around rough. While you're waiting for Jetstorm to be treated, you're milling about in the main room of Optimus' base. It doesn't take you long to notice Jetfire isn't looking so hot, mostly because he's one of the only mechs you actually know, and you can tell just by how he's shifting around that he's uncomfortable. He's trying to fly under the radar right now until he can get treated, but totally misses you lingering closer because he's so focused on the other mechs in the base. You have no choice but the huff and bat his servos away from his injury, earning a startled yelp from him, before doing your best to pack the wound. You're no medic, especially not for a machine, but you at least know pressure eases bleeding. Jetfire hasn't been this close to you and especially hasn't had you care for him like this. You're gentle and quiet with him, soft squishy hands moving about his side, pressing sanitized mesh into the wound to stifle the leak.

07 + Uh oh. His spark just fluttered up into his intake while watching the stern press of your mouth as you work on his side. Who knew that an organic could make him feel so... Assured. He still feels the tingle of your skin on his armor hours after his wound has been treated. From then on his attitude towards you does a complete 180. He chatters nervously when you're around and will happily greet you if he sees you. This is the Jetfire that Jetstorm knows but he can tell that something is... Off.

08 + Jetfire isn't the type who can keep his feelings to himself. He's always lived loud and proud. Ad despite the fact you're his brother's partner, he can't live keeping something so important to himself, so Jetfire has to confess to you soon after he realizes how much he likes you. This is more a cause of stress for you than him, because Jetfire doesn't really think it through. You, on the other hand, worry this is only going to pull Jetstorm and Jetfire further apart. You already felt guilty for 'getting between' them. But when you explain it to Jetstorm he's... More playful. He thinks it's cute that Jetfire likes you. It makes sense, even, because he and Jetfire are so alike. Jetstorm can't hold it against his own brother that he ended up falling for you. I mean, look at you!

09 + It turns into a playful competition between them which is sort of how your three-way relationship grows. Your boys get to have fun one-upping each other and you get two boyfriends!

10 + Jetstorm is the romantic of the two: classic dates with lamp-light, energon treats, and high grade. Jetfire likes spur of the moment plans and doing something thrilling, the type to take you flying and do aerial tricks over the ocean to impress you. Unsurprisingly, they're both equally touchy and affectionate. They have a pretty close relationship where they could always be affectionate with each other so that reflects in how they interact with you, but, ya know, more amorously.

11 + You kissa da one mech then turn and kissa da other. Mamma mia.

12 + You never miss a chance to tell Sentinel where to stick his opinions. He often uses the twins as a means to exert authority, because power is something he so strongly clings to, to the point it feels like they're mere tools at his disposal. This really tends to chap your hide. Jetfire and Jetstorm consider you the 'coolest' for backtalking him the way you do.

#asks #txt #transformers #reader insert #reader imagine #transformers animated #tf animated #tfa jetstorm #jetstorm #tf jetstorm #tfa jetfire #jetfire #tf jetfire

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river-bottom-nightmare · 1 year

Text

The kid really wasn’t supposed to be an issue. Dick assured himself it wasn’t going to be an issue. He crossed his heart and hoped to die, dragged a knife over his throat, offering Tiger a solemn promise before flipping the knife between his fingers, dancing too close to his jugular, and winking. (One of these days, he’d put a flash of panic in Tiger’s eyes, he just knew it.) Agent 37, especially now with Tiger, was damn near unshakable.

But here’s the thing: this little brat with a suit more expensive than half of Bruce’s wine cellar and a pout sweeter than a baby’s and pudginess still clinging to his cheeks hadn’t stopped talking about jaguars in the past ten minutes.

“Eyes on target. Two minutes to break through security’s last defense,” says Tiger’s voice in his ear, quiet even through their tinny comms. Dick can picture the concentrated furrow on his forehead, the set of his shoulders and flex of his traps to settle himself before a mission’s last stretch. He can picture it better than he can his siblings, somedays.

“That’s great, buddy!” Dick tells Tiger and the kid damn-near clinging to his leg. His hair is blonde, ruffled, clinging to any vestige of its gelled style with a sort of hopeless desperation, like trying to ground a ghost. And this wouldn’t be an issue, it really truly wouldn’t, if Damian Wayne hadn’t also spent their last gala running his tiny, calloused hands through his sticky hair, doing his best impression of not clinging to Dick’s leg, and continuously talking about tigers.

How long has it been since someone’s last touched him with such simple trust? Dick feels the boy’s faith angularly, like a spear of glass through his ribs, through the ribbons of his tendons.

It’s frigid. The two of them are on the ballroom’s balcony, letting the wind use her cold fingers to trace the underside of Dick’s scalp, letting a night of dancing and quiet drugs and secrets spill out behind them. (Letting Dick protect this child’s innocence a day longer.) He isn’t true royalty but he may as well be, the way Bruce always was, because underneath the balcony overlook is a very illegal jaguar enclosure. Inside, the jaguar seems to be stretching, waking herself up for the day, taking note of the iron fence surrounding her as Dick supposes she does every morning. Dick can sympathize. There’s a different sort of freedom they’re both experiencing for the first time, and Dick thinks they both rather prefer before.

“—and they have the strongest bite of any big cat! Compared to its size, I mean.” The boy clearly thinks this fact is splendid—it actually kind of is—and he looks up at Dick, pleading with his eyes for acknowledgement. His aunt and uncle, the child’s new guardians, are attempting to use him to release a bioweapon four nights from now that would potentially kill millions. He’s resisted them for weeks, and here he is, begging for a morsel of praise.

Dick lets his eyes go wide. “Whoa, really? That’s actually pretty cool.” The boy beams, his little wildflower head bobbing and his smile unburdened, beauty like something peeking up out of the earth for the first time. God, Damian used to hate these parties. Used to scowl at any mention of fumbling himself into a child’s suit and making nice with shark-toothed civilians for hours. Used to look up at Dick with that same unfiltered joy when they sat in the hall, asking Alfred to sneak them some tarts, Damian leaning into Dick’s arm and telling him about a cool new tiger fact he learned. That arm still prickles. Emptiness does the opposite of pain, and somehow that is always worse.

“Everything’s disabled,” Tiger’s voice nudges him out of his reverie. “Except the last password. Needs to be handwritten. You got that kid to open up yet?” Dick can hear the challenge in his voice, ever so subtly weaved into his even tone, and he can’t keep his lips from turning up at the edges.

The jaguar in the enclosure below folds up from her stretches, smooth like a burn, and leaps atop a large rock in her enclosure. The boy is stunned into silence for a brief moment. He seems to be gazing at the jaguar with a dangerous sort of longing in his eyes. Like he wants to be cracked open, like a stone-fruit ripped in two and devoured, like trust seems to be at once a holy and sordid thing to him. (He seems to be exactly the son of parents who, rather than entrusting any of their relatives or partners, made their child create the password for access to a mass bioweapon, then had the brilliant sense to be assassinated before they could tell him about it.)

Quietly, murmuring into the comm on his wrist, Dick says, “Try panthera onca.”

There’s a pause, then, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“He’s a kid, Tiger.” It wasn’t really that long ago that Dick was making up stupid passwords for Bruce to guess. The password to the pillow fort Dick made for Bruce’s birthday was the binary nomenclature for a bat. The password Damian uses—used, fuck, used—for his phone was the king cobra.

Silence from the other end of the comm. Silence from the kid, too. Dick glances over, and sees he’s still hypnotized by the jaguar. He follows the child’s line of sight, and finds the jaguar staring straight at them. I am hungry, her eyes tell him. I have not felt another living being in so long that I will devour the next one I touch. I am so fucking starving and I want you like an organ taken out of your guts, I want to swallow you into a lanky-shaped hollow near my stomach, and maybe, Dick thinks, maybe she’ll name it “Agent 37” or “Nightwing” or possibly even “Robin.” But what I want most of all, she says with a flick of her tail and a twitch of her ears, is to rip out your bones and hold them, craft them, use them to wrench open the bars of this cursed cage so that I may run, and never return. I will take your bones with me, the jaguar promises, so you will be free as well.

The jaguar growls quietly, and Dick can somehow hear it from the balcony. Then, she flits away. Dick untenses in time with the boy next to him. He thinks of iron bars and bloody torsos and a time when he could wear his own face. He thinks of a boy, only a little taller than the one standing next to him, who would have kept him from ever giving in to Bruce’s demands to renounce his face to begin with.

(He thinks of Damian’s bloody torso, specifically, and thinks that he would let the jaguar carve open his gut and tear out his bloated bag of organs, if only she would give them to Damian. They would be more useful than his unknowable face.)

Tiger’s voice filters through the comm. “Package secure. Heading towards safehouse delta.”

The kid next to him sighs happily, again. “Pretty cool, isn’t she?”

Dick smiles down at him. “Very. What’s her name?”

The boy frowns, confusion on his face. “She doesn’t have a name. It’s better not to have one, I think.”

“Oh really?”

A nod from the child, more serious than Dick imagined “She did bad things. She killed people. That’s why they let me have her. And I think she’d like it better if I didn’t use her old name, the one that she had when she did the bad things. But I don’t want to give her a new name and have it be wrong! So she doesn’t have a name.”

“Do you think she likes that?” Dick asks. “Names are—names are important.”

“I don’t know,” the boy says, suddenly looking very unsure of himself. “But I think it’s better to not have a name than to have one that hurts you. Or to have one that doesn’t fit.”

Dick hums. Considers. Offers the boy another smile and straightens up in the way people do when they’re getting ready to leave. “I suppose you have a point, kid.”

The child nods. There are bruises in the tender skin under his red-rimmed eyes and his lips have scabs from his own teeth all over them. They’re so chapped, they’re nearly bleeding. Dick knows how much sleep children get after their parents are murdered in front of them. “Thank you for the jaguar facts,” Dick tells him, sincerely. “They made the night much more fun.”

The boy nods. Opens his mouth, closes it, then seems to make up his mind and opens it again. “Before you go,” he says, with all the hesitation he’s kept close and quiet this entire night, “can I—can I just have a hug? Please?”

And Dick, without hesitation, folds to his knees and opens his arms.

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@dickgraysonweek dick grayson week day 2: first responder au | “can i just have a hug? please?” | spies & secret agents

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taglist who will probably shoot on sight thinking i've risen from the dead: @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @buticaaba @comics-observer @newsical @queenofbooknerds @scattered-winter @amillionandonefandoms

#dickgraysonweek #someone know if this is long enough that i should post it on ao3 it's much longer than my normal crap and idk the protocol for ~1.5k fics #scribbles from the swamp #dick grayson #nightwing #agent 37 #dc #dick grayson fic #nightwing fic #agent 37 fic #dc fic

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