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lot-of-nothing · 23 days

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Entwined (Ch. 4)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Reconciliation and growth? Melissa realizes she still has a lot she needs to work through.

Warnings: Sexual themes and internalized homophobia

Author's Note: A little worldbuilding around R's relationship with Melissa. Thank you soooo much to @alexusonfire for betaing this <3

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

The bartender placed a drink on the bar before you, earning them a furrowed brow and questioning glance. They gave a toothy grin in response and pointed down the bar to your left, “It's from the redhead.”

Your stomach sank at the prospect, and the bartender noticed how your features drooped. With a sympathetic glance, they let you be with your thoughts.

Melissa. It had to be her.

You stared down at the wood grain of the bar, debating if you even wanted to open the wounds that were barely healed as it was. Even a glance felt like too much for you now. You weren’t ready for this after everything ended so terribly. But it didn’t seem like Melissa was giving you much of a choice as her plump hand crept from your shoulder blade to your shoulder, “Long time no see.”

You knew her voice well, so when her tone lacked her typical confidence, your eyes flicked up to her face with concern. Her flaming hair was tucked behind her right ear and she was gazing at you softly as her thumb began rubbing soft circles against your clothed shoulder. “Can I sit?”

Your eyes scanned her body as you considered her question, noting the casual outfit of jeans, a pink long sleeve shirt, and her usual jumble of necklaces. Any emotions that her presence stirred in you were pushed down with your apathetic tone and shrug as you swivel your head to face forward once more, “I don’t own the place. Sit where you want.”

Melissa took a nervous seat next to you. She wasn’t about to back down just because you seemed angry with her. She had thought long and hard about everything that had happened between you and was ready to reconcile. Mel chewed at the inside of her lip as she let some time pass between the two of you. Her eyes were watching you intently in the mirror hung behind the shelves of liquor across the bar, and her nails nervously tapped on her glass of brown liquor as she thought about what she should say.

The redhead coughed and then turned her head slightly towards you as she spoke, “Ahem, how’s Ms. Sunshine?”

“We broke up.” Your response was automatic, and while you tried to sound just as cold as you did when you let her sit, you couldn’t hide your disappointment when you were reminded of that night once more.

“How’s-” Melissa started, but you cut her off.

“We don’t have to do small talk.”

Mel allowed silence to fall between you both again. From the corner of your eye, you watched her fidget with her phone as she pretended to be comfortable with the silence between you both. You knew she was searching for a different topic of conversation to you talking - the effort being a refreshing change to your interactions in the past.

Another few minutes passed before her voice rang out again - twinged with hope that reminiscing could get you to talk to her, “Remember senior prom? When Frankie Amici ditched me for Kristin Marie?”

At first you considered only nodding, but then you caught a glimpse of Melissa’s half smile in the mirror as she stared into her lap and thought about that night. You decided to play along, but you refused to smile or offer any indication you enjoyed the conversation, “We sat out on Reading Railroad Bridge with a pack of menthols from your uncle.”

“A train came and we had to jump into the river.” Mel’s nose scrunched up at the thought of being in the Schuylkill River. She remembered scrubbing her skin raw afterwards to get the remnants of the polluted river off of her.

The memory of you both jumping off that bridge, hand-in-hand and screaming as you plummeted into the freezing water, brought a smile to your face. You made so many bad decisions together in your teens that it was surprising neither of you ever hurt yourselves. You glanced at Melissa, smirking a bit as you reminded her of the aftermath, “We warmed up in my car.”

Melissa straddled you in the passenger seat of the Pontiac Oldsmobile you borrowed from your cousin. You slowly unzipped her baby pink prom dress while she kissed your neck. She was grinning when she pulled away and peeled the dress from her body - Mel always loved the way your eyes lit up when she revealed herself to you. Her hand caught you by the back of the neck and guided you to her breasts, “Why don’t you help me warm up?”

With your hands pressing into her back, you dove towards her breasts - rolling her nipples between your teeth and leaving darkened marks across her chest. Your hands sunk under the soaked fabric of her dress, revealing more of Melissa’s chilled skin to you. She pulled away again, leaning back against the dashboard to watch you with her intense green eyes. You wished you could say you met her gaze but you were too busy staring at her torso.

Melissa’s mouth went dry at how you eyed her. In your reminiscing, you had begun watching the redhead just as you did that night - hungry eyes flicking between her cleavage and her lips. She hummed in agreement as her heart skipped a beat, “Mhmm..”

Finally you stopped ogling her and met her gaze, “You looked so pretty in that pink dress.”

And with that statement, you made Melissa Schemmenti blush. The heat on her cheeks only grew as you propped your head in your hand and stared intently at her, raising your brows as you waited expectantly for her to carry on the conversation. While she had broken you down a bit into being willing to speak to her, it was up to Mel to carry the brunt of your discussion, and carry it she did.

You went back and forth for half an hour, sharing silly memories from your time spent together. The conversation took a change in tone when Melissa stared at her hands and asked, “You remember when Nona died? The night after?”

“That night you came over at 2am. I let you in and you crawled into my bed.” You knew how painful it was for her to bring it up - it always had been since she passed. With a tentative pace, you reached out and covered her hand with your own, giving her a light squeeze before lifting your hand to her face to tuck her red locks behind her ear. Your gentle actions caused her gaze to lift to your face.

Melissa’s eyes watered, but the tears were swiftly blinked away with a huff before she spoke, “I remember your hand on my face. Even while you slept, you seemed to know when I was cryin’ ‘cause your thumb would rub my cheek.”

After Melissa had crawled into your bed, you followed suit, drawing her to your chest. She rested her forehead against your sternum and she was using your bicep as a pillow. You could feel her tears falling from her cheek onto your skin which made tears threaten to fall from your own eyes.

“She loved you so much, pretty girl...” You whisper, drawing your hand to her cheek and rubbing soft circles into her cheekbone. She didn’t even protest as you pressed your lips against the top of her head. While sleep would overtake Mel and you periodically, you would always rouse with the feeling of tears against your skin. When you woke, you would gently rub her cheek until she would settle back down and fall asleep.

You offered a soft smile, “You were over a lot that week before the funeral... stress cooking. I don’t think my fridge has ever been that full since.”

The redhead let out a puff of air instead of a laugh, “Yeah…”

—

An hour later you had moved from the bar into a small booth where Melissa was pressed into your side. Mel’s behavior was a bit different than what you had come to know - it made you wonder what had changed within the past few months. You knew Mel wasn’t a regular of this bar so she might have been feeling comfortable in the anonymity and inebriation.

You lean in close, grinning wide when Melissa didn’t move away which only left a few centimeters between you both. You teased her quietly, reaching an unseen hand out to rest on her back, “Aren’t you nervous people might think you are flirting with me?”

“Who said I was flirtin’?” She lifted her nose into the air and smirked while her foot stroked your calf under the table. This was the flirtatious attitude you loved from Melissa.

“Maybe it’s how your shirt keeps getting pulled lower… Or maybe it’s how you keep getting closer... and closer.” Your finger teased at the edge of her now exposed bra and your lips lingered closer to hers with every word. In all of your years of knowing Melissa, you had never experienced a situation where it felt like you were on a date with her. Your chemistry was undeniable and you wondered if she felt it too.

“Maybe this is just how I talk to people.” Her lips brushed against yours before you were the one to pull away.

You leaned back in your seat, staring at her with a cocked head. While it was challenging to do so, you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t make this so easy for her. “Oh, yeah?”

She hummed, eying you as if she could eat you alive, “Mhmm.”

“Melissa?” A voice rang out from behind Mel causing you to sit a bit higher in order to see where the source of disturbance to your flirtation.

The redhead’s head whipped around as she obviously recognized who had interrupted. Tragically, she shifted away from you entirely to look at the young man face to face. Her cheeks were aflame as a scowl formed on her lips, “Jacob?”

Jacob lit up at the sight of Melissa’s face and from your outside perspective, he seemed to be well intentioned, yet potentially exasperating. He began speaking at a mile a minute, gesturing with his hands and occasionally peering around Mel to smile at you, “I didn't know you came to Good Dog! I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this?”

“Well I- What are you doing here? You had a date.” Melissa was obviously flustered and you only made matters worse as you leaned forward unsuspectingly and placed a hidden hand on the small of her back, lifting her shirt slightly to rub her bare skin. Your act made her sit up a bit straighter which made you grin.

“They said donating to NPR was the equivalent of funding the Trump campaign. I knew it wouldn’t work out from there.” Jacob waved off his own failed date and leaned against the table with his eyes focused on you. He had a bragidose air about himself as he explained his own relationship with Melissa - a relationship that obviously brought him a great deal of pride. “Who is this? I’m Jacob Hill. I work with Melissa at Abbott, and we are roommates.”

“Roommates? Incredible.” You respond, eyes wide with a faux excitement that was more meant to tease Melissa as you had no clue she was living with someone.

“Jacob. This is Y/N. We went to high school together.” Melissa introduced you and shifted back in her seat a couple inches to hide your hand on her from the young man. In the past, your relationship with Melissa was hyper-private so you found this experience entertaining. It felt sadistic that you were incredibly satisfied with watching Mel squirm in her seat with discomfort, but felt like a form of payback for years of her keeping you a secret.

Jacob didn’t seem to notice Melissa’s odd behavior and leaned over the table with a more hushed tone. His eyes were bright and enthusiastic as he questioned you, “Did Melissa ever do embarrassing things in school? She refuses to tell me anything that might lead me to know her age.”

You leaned in close to Jacob, whispering loud enough for Melissa to hear, “Voluminous hair. Bigger and higher than you can dream of. Lots of hairspray.”

Jacob was grinning wildly when Mel took him by the arm and guided him away from your little booth. It made you grin wickedly when you saw her having to readjust her shirt.

With a bit of increased proximity from Melissa, you were finally allowed a bit of clarity. You couldn’t believe what you were doing. Four months ago you had told her to leave, anticipating you would never have to see or speak to her again, and now you were wrapped around her finger once more. You needed to set boundaries for yourself and Melissa so as to not get your hopes up - after all, maybe a more structured ‘friends with benefits’ could work... right?

Melissa spoke quietly enough to keep you from hearing her scolding tone. All the while, Jacob hardly seemed fazed by how she growled when speaking to him, “Jacob, you never answered my question. What are ya’ doin’ here?”

Jacob fished his phone from his pocket and swiped it open to show her the app he used to figure out where she was. The redhead’s anger slowly simmered as she realized he was more well intentioned than her initial thoughts, “I saw your location was here on Find My iPhone. I was coming from up the street and just wanted to check in. Am I… interrupting something?”

“No! No. No. No.” Mel was defensive, folding her arms over her chest and glancing back at you with furrowed brows, “We are just catching up.”

“Okay.” His tone made it seem as though he didn’t quite believe the redhead, and to make matters worse for himself, he was smirking a little bit while he glanced back and forth between Mel and you.

Melissa’s tone alone was the equivalent to her baseball bat (Edith Houghton) in hand, “What’s with the little smirk?”

“Nothing.” Jacob’s coyness had Melissa ready to tear him in two, “What did you say your relationship was again?”

“What relationship? We are… friends. Just friends. From high school.” Melissa poked a finger in Jacob’s chest, snarling to get her point across - a fruitless pursuit.

“I remember when I caught up with this one friend from high school. We ended up messing around in his car afterwards.” Jacob’s newfound friendship with Melissa had him feeling much braver than he was a year ago. He teased the redhead with a wide grin and then waved to you before he made his exit. “It was nice meeting you! See you at home, roomie.”

—

After exiting the bar, you had found yourselves in the backseat of your car for a quick makeout session. On the way out of the front doors, Melissa had pulled you into the darkness of the nearby alley, pushed you against the wall, and kissed any remaining thoughts from your head. The only thought you were able to form after she took your hand and tugged you back towards your car was: God, I missed her.

You knew you should have made things harder for her. You shouldn’t have been able to be won back by a couple rounds of drinks and exchanging memories, but there was always something about this woman that felt so much like home that you couldn’t stay away. By the time she opened the door to the backseat and told you to get comfortable, you told yourself there would be other times to resolve the lingering issues between Mel and you.

“I think he knows.” Mel leaned back in your lap, resting her back against the driver's seat. She was breathing heavily from the nonstop kissing and most of her lipstick was now smeared across your mouth.

You knew she was panicked about her interaction with Jacob back at the bar, but your mind was a little preoccupied with the sight of Melissa’s bare chest. “Knows what?”

You leaned forward and attached your mouth to Melissa’s neck while your hands began working to unbutton her jeans. The redhead wove a hand into your hair to keep you against her as she continued her stressing, “He knows about us.”

“Who?” It wasn’t intentional, but you were entirely absentminded as your hands drifted back up and were now filled by Mel’s breasts.

Melissa huffed at your inability to follow her train of thought, “Jacob!”

“Mel…” You whined, pouting against her neck. After all of these months lamenting over your relationship while simultaneously yearning for Melissa, all you wanted after hours of emotional bonding was to act on the lust you had for her.

The redhead began rocking against your lap with her arms wound around your neck to continue her venting, “Gays have that, you know? Gay-dar or whatever.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Melissa’s phrasing as you dragged your tongue up her neck. She tasted citrusy yet floral from her orange blossom perfume, “Mhmm…”

“What if… God… What if he knows?”

“Knows what, Mel?” You finally pulled back, lifting Melissa’s chin to bring her gaze up so she was looking at you. Even with your efforts, she still averted her gaze.

“Knows I’m… I’m...” Melissa danced around the words, entirely overwhelmed with the prospect of admitting something she wasn’t quite ready to.

“Oh, pretty girl…” Your hands took the redhead’s face and held it close while you kissed her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ears. Mel was still pouting a little when you ducked your head down to catch her dejected gaze, “Why don’t you go home and talk to him?”

She whined and pouted with a pseudo-glare as her own way of arguing with you, “But we were-”

“Mel. I think we both know this will happen again sometime soon.” You pressed another kiss to her forehead and wrangled her into a hug. She struggled against your arms for a moment before relaxing into the embrace, allowing you to hold her for a few seconds.

When you pulled away, you began collecting her articles of clothing - presenting her with her bra and shirt for her to redress. Your adoring gaze and gentility made the redhead blush as this type of attention wasn’t exactly like anything she had experienced before with her boyfriends and husband, but it was a common feeling for her when you were together.

Not only did you open the door and help her out of the car (all while sitting down), you offered to walk her to her car. She couldn’t believe how she didn’t quite notice your adoration before. You had always tried your best to take care of the fiercely independent woman, but perhaps your gender had always made your care nonthreatening when compared to care from men.

She bumped her shoulder into you as you strolled down the darkened sidewalk towards her car. Her words were genuine albeit pained, “I’m really sorry… about always doin’ this to ya’.”

You could hardly believe you were receiving an apology from the redhead, so you couldn’t help but tease her in response - bumping her shoulder with your own, “Are you really?”

Melissa stopped in her tracks, staring up at you with an intensity you were not prepared for, “I am. You have always been good to me… I’m just- I’m figuring things out. You never deserved any of this.”

“Mel, it’s okay.” You felt discomfort in the vulnerability with Mel. All you had ever wanted was an apology and now that you had it, you didn’t know what to do with it.

She answered plainly as she continued walking to her car, “It’s not.”

You trailed after her towards her car, somewhat reeling as you thought about her apology. What did she mean when she said she was figuring things out? Did you have a chance with her? Maybe this is the result of you putting your foot down with her. Maybe she realized what was on the line and her desire for you outweighs whatever fear she has of being gay.

Your swirling thoughts bring forth a surge of confidence in you as you stand outside Melissa’s driver side door. Leaning your forearms on the open window of Mel’s car, you lean inside a bit - entirely unable to hide your giddy grin, “Can I kiss you goodbye?”

Melissa floundered for a moment. A goodbye kiss felt so much like a relationship, and after she had broken up with Gary, she told herself she wasn’t interested in anything like yet. But then again after everything happened between you, she didn’t want to hurt you by placing you back into the not-so-friend-zone once more. Finally, she nodded silently, leaning forward timidly in search of your lips.

As your lips made contact, you stretched out a hand to grasp her face. She hummed at the intensity of the kiss as she never expected it when you exuded this quiet dominance. You held her in place and licked at her bottom lip. You deepened the kiss and then pulled away slowly, leaving her stuck in place for a moment - completely dumbfounded. It was all so much at once and she was hardly expecting it.

“See ya’ around, Schemmenti.”

Just like that Melissa was back in your life, and this time you were filled with a bit of hope for your relationship. You didn’t want to put too much stock in it, but something felt a little different this time.

Jacob perched himself on the couch in the living room, staring intently at the front door as he waited for Melissa. The second she walked in the front door, he leaned back in his chair (just as he had practiced in his head) and flourishing his hands as he spoke, “Caught. Red. Handed.”

Mel dropped her bag by the front door as she locked it, rolling her eyes at Jacob’s dramatism, “What are you talkin’ about, kid?”

“You and a certain ‘friend’ sharing a little kiss in the parking lot.” He leaned forward in his seat, absolutely exhilarated with witnessing Melissa act so queerly. “Well, it was maybe more than a little.”

Jacob’s support was ignored as Mel saw a more glaring issue - he had been following her. Often she would scold Jacob, but now she was yelling, causing the young teacher to cower where he sat, “YOU WERE HANGIN’ AROUND WATCHIN’ ME?!”

While his tone was meek, he tried to maintain his positive attitude, “I had a feeling. I knew it! You’re bisexual!”

“No. I am not gay. I like men and that’s it!” Melissa shouted, waiting to finish tearing Jacob a new one before she would storm up the stairs and ignore the world for the rest of the evening. He attempted to interject, but she shut it down immediately and gestured fiercely with her hands to really get her point across, “Shut it. I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about this, and don’t you dare think about telling anyone at school about this!”

Link to Chapter 5

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship

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fuckingstrange · 3 months

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Quieting Down

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WARNINGS: Mean!Bau Team (apologies fr), Anxious & Upset Spencer, Brief mentions of insecurity, non-beta read

WORDS: 1,195

PAIRING: S.R. x gn!reader

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Spencer has been quite.. off, recently. He's been more reserved and quiet, and while the team has started seeming to almost praise him for it, you can't help but be concerned. Especially because you see things that they don't after the work day.

You see him at home. Where he remains reserved, unlike normal. He doesn't talk to you much, usually responding with a head nod or a light shake, sometimes with one word replies. When he does speak and use his voice it's with a tone so timid and the volume of a mouse. It's heartbreaking, really. You miss when he'd ramble, when he'd talk to you and constantly say how much he loves you. You know he still loves you, that much hasn't changed, but you miss his voice.

Right now, you each are walking into the door after a long day at work, the poor man exhausted. He silently slips off his shoes and sets his bag down on the couch before making his way to the kitchen, opening it up and glancing around at the contents. He decides on a simple glass of orange juice, grabbing out the jug and a cup, grabbing a second one and gesturing to you in a silent offer of some.

You give him a light smile and shake your head, walking up to him and resting a hand on his lower back as he pours himself a glass. You put the jug back away in the fridge for him as he goes and settles on the couch, curling up off to the side and watching whatever was on the TV.

You frown at the continued silence, deciding to try and get him to talk, you go over and sit beside him. You lean in, lips near his ear so you can whisper, “Mind if I hold you?”, and wait until he gives a light nod before pulling him to cuddle in with you. You end up holding him in your lap, propped up a bit with a pillow against the arm rest so that he lays at an angle on you.

Spencer’s arms instinctively move to wrap around you, and you don't miss how he seems to melt against you. Your hands move up to play with his hair, lightly stroking it back so you can see his relaxed, yet exhausted expression. After a few minutes of letting him adjust to the change of being home, feeling the slight anxiousness he seems to always hold while at the bureau finally going away, you guide his gaze to meet yours by gently turning his head.

Spencer’s eyes are truly captivating. You could lose yourself in how softly they stare into yours, the dark brown colour making him look so.. adorable. His eyelids almost seem weighed down by the dark eyebags, your free hand moving to rest on his cheek so you can rub the dark circles with your thumb in gentle, soothing movements. He gives you a light smile in return, tilting his head a bit to press a kiss to the inside of your forearm.

You lean forward to press a light kiss to his forehead, leaning back to look back down at him. You hesitate for a couple minutes, debating on whether or not you should ask him why he's suddenly so quiet and nearly refusing to speak because you don't want to possibly trigger or upset him. Though Spencer, managing to have memorized what your microexpressions mean, presses another kiss to the inside of your forearm in a silent reassurance that you're allowed to speak.

You take a deep breath, exhaling and staring into his eyes for a few seconds before mustering up the courage to ask him. “Why have you suddenly.. gone quiet? I've noticed.. I've noticed you're not as talkative as before. You act like a ghost at work. What's with the change?”

While Spencer isn't at all surprised by your question, having expected people to notice his sudden quietness, he didn't expect you to react more concerned than happy. “I just thought.. I needed to shut up a little more, you know? I can be a bit annoying, so I thought this would be.. uh, I thought this would be better.” He responds, his tone still timid and his voice just barely over a whisper.

You swear your heart breaking is an audible sound that echoes through the room. You grab the sides of his head and guide him to sit up with you, feeling his slight anxiousness towards what your response could be. “Spencer.. no, baby.. You don't need to shut up, you never need to shut up. I like your voice, I love your rambles. You're not annoying- Why would you think that?” You can't help but ask, wanting to know if it's been a growing insecurity or something else. His gaze falls from yours, head turning to the side. “Well, the team.. they just kind of.. don't like to listen. It, uh, it makes me feel like my voice is useless.” He explains, squirming a bit. You don't move to stop his motions, letting him look away and watch as he starts to fidget with his hands in his lap, knowing it's his own way of self-soothing when his anxiety feels like it's built up too much. He waits a second before continuing his explanation, his voice just barely louder now that he knows you never wanted him to be quiet. “I know it's stupid but I just thought they'd be happier than if I talked as much as I did, and they are.. I didn't like talking just to be ignored, I.. I, uh, I don't mean to sound rude or anything but it.. kind of hurts to be treated like that.”

His words pull at your heart, the last sentence might as well have even been a straight-up bullet to the chest. You move your thumb to rub his cheek, seeing the saddened and anxious look on his face. “I.. can't say I understand why they're like this either, Spencer, nor do I like that they treat you like this. You're not at fault for getting upset over being ignored, it's rude and you're allowed to be upset. Just like you're allowed to use that voice to talk. Even if they're not listening, I will.” You reassure him, leaning forward to press a light kiss to the side of his forehead.

Spencer ends up turning back to look at you after the kiss, tears resting in his eyes. You wipe them away before pulling him to lay back down with you, pressing another few kisses around his face, pulling a smile from the man. He can’t think of a response, so instead he just melts against you again, happy that somebody cares enough to listen.

You start playing with his hair again, enjoying the way he seems so relaxed, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that he knows you never wanted him to force himself to stop talking. You lean down to press one last kiss to the top of his head before leaning, relaxing against the couch. “I'll always listen.”

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NOTES -

Somebody needs to let this man just full on fucking RANT for hours. Any and all topics, LET HIM SPEAK AND INDULGE IN HIS INTEREST!! (I volunteer as tribute !!)

I'll likely make an angstier version of this

#spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #hotboxed fanfiction #fluff and sad stuff #let him RAMBLE #let him BE HAPPY #PLEASE

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magiccath · 3 months

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Secrets big and small

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: in which you are forced to admit your feelings for the Doctor, even if you think he will leave you for it

A/N: For the absolute love of my life and favorite beta, thanks for dealing with me talking about this more than I wrote it

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. After a few good inhales, he popped back inside the ship, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

You waited by the ship's console, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The Doctor had promised you a beach vacation, and judging by his face, this wasn’t a beach. Sometimes you wondered how much control the Doctor actually had over the ship, considering it only landed in the places he intended about 25% of the time.

“We’re not at a beach are we?”

The Doctor ignored your question and moved over to the console, grabbing one of the many oddly shaped screens attached to the control panel. He pulled his glasses out of his suit pocket, perching the spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

“Interesting…” He hummed, more to himself than you.

“Where did we end up this time?” You asked, opening the door to peek outside. You knew better than to walk off without the Doctor, but a little look had never hurt you.

The minute you opened the door you were met with the bustling noise of a street. All kinds of aliens walked by you, each one unique in their own way.

“It would appear we landed on the planet Phact, but I’m not sure why.”

You continued to stare out of the TARDIS wide-eyed, taking in all of the strange creatures before you. Your eyes followed an individual who walked by, a series of tentacles hanging out of his mouth.

“Is it safe?” you asked as an afterthought.

“As far as I know,” the Doctor shrugged, putting his glasses back in his pocket. He moved away from the console to stand at your side by the door.

You looked over at him, debating if you should tell him that wasn’t exactly a reassuring thought.

“Since we’re here…” he smiled cheekily, inclining his head toward the door. You laughed and rolled your eyes. The Doctor never could resist a good adventure.

You followed him out the door, waiting momentarily as he locked the TARDIS up.

“Remember that time you forgot to tell me it was rude to wear less than three layers on Titan 4?” you ask, watching him slip the key back into his endless coat pockets.

The Doctor shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets and leaning toward you. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Is there anything I should know about this planet?” you raise your eyebrows questioningly.

The Doctor’s brow wrinkled as he thought about it, trying to remember his limited knowledge about Phact.

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged again, smiling softly.

You scrunched your nose slightly, not sure you believed him. Still, you followed him.

The Doctor talked excitedly as the two of you walked through the city streets. Most of the time, you only understood half of the words he was saying. Frankly, you just enjoyed listening to him talk.

As you walked your eyes took in everything around you. It didn’t matter how long you traveled with the Doctor, it always seemed like there was more for you to learn and discover.

The Doctor continued talking, waving his hands about in the air. Abruptly, he stopped to look at a nearby poster. You followed him, trying to peek over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. The Doctor shifted to the side so you could read the sign too, the TARDIS translation circuit making the writing legible to you.

“The 998th Olympic games?” you read aloud, your eyebrows furrowed.

“That would explain all of the species here!” he smiled brightly, looking at the diverse crowd around you.

You nodded in agreement, following his gaze. There really did appear to be all kinds of species from around the galaxy.

“Want to go?” He whispered to you, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

“We don’t have tickets. Or money.”

The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows again, pulling the psychic paper out of his pocket. He shook it at you with a mischievous grin.

A smile took over your own face as you nodded, “alright then,” you said excitedly. You’d never been to the Olympics, let alone the space Olympics.

The Doctor guided you through the crowd towards the giant area, holding your hand tightly so as not to lose you. You tried not to focus too much on the feeling of his hand wrapped around yours. He just didn’t want you to wander off, there wasn’t much else to it, right?

“Y’know I carried the Olympic torch once,” he smirked back at you, still guiding you through the crowds.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“What?” the Doctor asked, not catching your comment over the chatter of the crowd. You smiled softly and shook your head, deciding it was best not to repeat yourself.

The Doctor led you to the ticket line, waiting patiently for the guards to check your tickets and let you in. He bounced slightly on his feet, unable to stand still for too long.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” you asked anxiously, eyeing the copious amounts of security surrounding the arena.

“Of course!” the Doctor smiled brightly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. The movement made both of you realize he was still holding your hand, even if he didn’t need to. With a small, hardly discernible blush, the Doctor slid his hand from yours.

The line moved forward and the guard asked for your tickets. The Doctor winked at you before handing the psychic paper over with a confident smile.

“Are you serious, mate?” The guard laughed dryly, looking between you and the Doctor.

“Most of the time,” the Doctor’s confident smile didn’t waver.

The guard sighed and leaned into his walkie-talkie, chattering softly to someone on the other end. You looked up at the Doctor with wide eyes, urging him to explain.

“Probably getting us a special escort or something,” he shrugged, turning the paper around to see what your fake tickets said. When his eyes landed on the paper his face instantly turned ghostly white.

“Doctor…” you growled softly.

“W-we should probably run now,” he whispered back. Before you could react, the security guard pulled the two of you firmly to the side.

“Doctor, what is going on?” You whispered as the guard led the two of you to a police car. At least, you assumed it was a police car. Unless flashing red and blue lights meant something else on other planets, it was definitely a police car.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor winced softly as the security guard guided the two of you to an officer. The cop looked you up and down before guiding you inside of the car.

“I would feel a lot better if you told me why.”

You weren’t necessarily mad about the police car, it wasn’t the first time you had gotten arrested on the Doctor’s behalf. Usually, he was able to get you out of it. You were more frustrated that he wasn’t telling you what was happening.

“Remember Titan 4?” he winced.

“Doctor!” you snapped angrily, “I specifically asked you if I needed to know anything about this planet!”

“Right, I know I’m sorry, I forgot,” he whispered, shaking his head softly.

“How bad is it?” you sighed, looking down at your lap.

“They’re not gonna kill us,” he shrugged with a sad smile.

“What did we even do?”

“You can’t lie on Phact.”

“Like, physically?”

The Doctor grimaced, thinking the question through, “not exactly,” he offered. You waited for him to further explain.

“They can tell telepathically if you lie and that ability extends to psychic paper.”

“I gathered as such,” you sighed, “but that still doesn't explain why we’re in a cop car”

“It’s illegal to lie.”

“Seriously?” you gaped, “any kind of lie?”

The Doctor nodded.

“Even if you tell your friend she looks fine when she really looks a mess 'cause you want to spare her feelings?”

The Doctor frowned but nodded again, more tentatively this time.

“That’s a horrible idea.”

“Don’t tell them that.”

You sighed softly in agreement.

“I really am sorry,” he looked at you with those big, sad brown eyes of his. It was very, very hard to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that. It was your weakness.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. “What are they going to do?”

Before the Doctor could answer, the car stopped and a cop came around to help you out of the car. The officer led you inside a very space-looking police station to a very Earth-looking interrogation room. You sat next to the Doctor in metal fold-out chairs, a table separating you and the officer. At least they didn’t cuff you.

“Names,” the officer groaned, clicking his pen and hovering it over a yellow legal pad. He had the kind of face and demeanor that told you he would rather be anywhere else.

“The Doctor.”

“Really funny, what’s your actual name?” the officer frowned.

“That’s my name,” the Doctor pouted, offended that someone would think it wasn’t. You smiled softly to yourself, finding the Doctor’s disappointed frown adorable.

“Fine,” the officer groaned, scribbling it down on his paper. “Age?”

“904,” he said without blinking. You hid your widening smile with your hand. You were starting to feel a little bad for the police officer.

“You’re how old?”

“904.”

“Species?”

“Gallifreyan.”

“Never heard of them,” the officer shook his head, writing it down on his paper. “You lot must age differently,” he grumbled, more towards his paper than the two of you.

“Right, and you?” the officer asked, tilting his head in your direction.

The Doctor nodded softly at you, urging you to comply with the officer’s wishes. You sighed and answered the same questions. The officer just seemed relieved to write down something less ridiculous.

“Alright,” he slid the paper pad away from him before leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed “You have been charged with a first-class felony of deception. You will not be fined or executed. To be released from custody you must provide your biggest secret”

“That’s it?” you asked, it seemed a little too simple. The officer nodded, clearly fed up with you and the Doctor.

“Look, folks, let’s just make this easier for all of us and get on with it?”

The Doctor nodded his agreement, casting a nervous look over at you. You nodded back, trying to think of something you could say. You knew easily what your biggest secret was, but you knew you couldn’t say it out loud. Especially not in front of the Doctor.

“I’m terrified of hospitals,” the Doctor said with a small frown.

“That’s ironic,” you chuckled, assuming he was making a joke. The officer stared at him for a few minutes, probably thinking the same thing.

“Checks out,” the officer sighed, writing “scared of hospitals” next to his other notes on the Doctor. “Weird secret, mate,” he added before turning his attention to you.

You fiddled anxiously before leaning back in your seat, your eyes trained on your hands.

“Does he have to be here for it?” you asked softly. The Doctor looked at you confused, wondering what was so bad you didn’t want him to know.

“I just admitted I'm terrified of hospitals as a doctor, it can't get worse than that,” he laughed.

“Does he?” you asked the officer, ignoring the Doctor. The cop looked between the two of you; the Doctor staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at you, and you trying to act like he wasn’t there.

“Yes,” the officer challenged, leaning back in his seat again. You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if he only said that to see how things would play out.

“So, what’s your secret?” he smirked, confirming your suspicions. “I’ll know if you’re lying”

You sighed, trying to steady your racing heart. You wanted to scream, maybe even cry. You wanted to blame the Doctor, even if it wasn’t really his fault. Even more, you wanted to wipe that stupid, smug smile off of the officer’s face.

You took one last look at the Doctor, smiling sadly at him. He looked back at you with confusion, unsure why you were looking at him as if it was the last time you’d ever see him. To you, it felt like it would be. He could never look at you the same, not after this.

“I’m in love with this idiot,” you sighed, cocking your head towards the Doctor. The silence that followed was deafening. While the Doctor’s brain struggled to process your words the officer sized you up, searching for any falsities in your statement.

“What a strange pair,” the officer shook his head, leaning forward to write on his pad again. “In love with the other one”

You looked at those words scribbled on the thin, crappy paper and felt your heart clench. It was out there now, the Doctor knew. At the moment, you couldn’t think of anything worse. You would rather spend your entire life in prison than have had to admit that.

“You’re free to go,” the officer waved you off, more preoccupied with writing more things on his paper pad. It seemed so simple, yet one little secret had turned your world upside down.

You nodded solemnly and stood up, heading out the door. The Doctor wasn’t far behind you.

The walk back to the TARDIS was really quiet, a stark contrast from a few short hours ago. You tried not to sulk too much as you walked through the busy streets back to the ship.

The Doctor unlocked the doors without a word, holding them open for you. You walked inside the ship for what you assumed was the last time. The Doctor followed, heading over to the console to mess with a few buttons.

“I’ll pack my things,” you whispered, more to the floor than the Doctor. You moved towards the hallway that led to your room but the Doctor cut you off.

“What?”

“I’ll pack up,” your eyes remained trained on the floor, not wanting to look into his. You knew the Doctor wasn’t going to keep you around after this. It was glaringly clear that he didn’t have those feelings for you, that he couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” he frowned, moving away from the console.

“You’re kicking me out.”

“I think I would know if I was.” He moved so he was standing in front of you, tilting his head down in an attempt to catch your eye.

“It’s ok,” you shook your head, your eyes trained on your shoes, “I know you don’t want me around anymore.”

“Is this about the whole secret thing?” the Doctor asked gently.

“I know you don’t feel the same, I never expected you to,” you shook your head, averting your gaze again. “I’d understand if you just wanted to drop me back at home.”

“Is that what you want?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat, “It’s not exactly about what I want is it?”

The Doctor remained silent, his mind working for the right thing to say. He didn’t fully comprehend what was happening.

“You’re under the assumption that I’m going to drop you because you love me?” He said softly, still trying to catch your eye.

“Is that not what’s happening right now?” You frowned, confused.

The Doctor laughed softly, moving away from you with one long stride. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the spiky strands. You continued to frown at him, confused by his demeanor.

“I can establish a psychic block,” he explained, waving his hands about as he talked. You frowned, confused as to why he was talking about this now. “I told the officer a secret, but I didn’t tell him my greatest secret.”

He had the kind of look on his face he got when he was trying, and failing, to figure something out. It was a look you knew well at this point, you had just never been the cause of it.

“There’s so much of you in my head,” he groaned, waving his hands by the sides of his face, “which is saying a lot 'cause I have more in my head than you will ever experience in your entire life.”

You gaped at him, unsure what you were supposed to say in this scenario. Was this his secret?

“You take up so much space,” he emphasized exasperatedly, repeatedly running his hands through his hair. “Even when you’re not here I’m constantly thinking about you!” He leaned his hands against the console, hanging his head as he continued rambling.

You stared at him like he had grown a second head. No, three extra heads. And a tail.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

The Doctor moved back over to you, reaching out to cradle your face in his hands. He cupped your cheeks gently and bent his head forward so your foreheads connected.

“You take up so much space,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your face. “And the fact that you can’t see that kills me, it really kills me.”

“Doctor-” you whispered in shock. In your mind, there was only ever one way that the Doctor could react to your feelings, and this certainly wasn’t it. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

The Doctor laughed sharply, shaking his head against yours, “You’re clueless, y’know that?”

“You’re not much better,” you frowned back. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” Your heart thudded against your chest, threatening to beat right out of your body. The mere implication that the Doctor could have even a shred of feelings for you was sending your senses into overdrive.

“Yes, I am,” he whispered. That was all you needed. You knew it was hard for him to say things like this. He wasn’t exactly the “I love you” type. The fact that he had said this much already was a wonder.

You didn’t really think about it, you just kissed him. His lips fit against yours perfectly and the kiss was over much sooner than either of you had wanted.

Your face was still cradled in his hands as the Doctor bent down to press another, quicker kiss against your lips, returning the act of affection. You smiled happily as he pulled back, looking up at him with pure adoration.

“Are you really afraid of hospitals though?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Terrified,” he shook his head.

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potatomountain · 2 months

Text

CIY- 8

Chapter Eight

📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader

📍word count: 3.3k

📍network: @pirateeznet

📍Warnings: mentions of mxm relationships.

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer, @yessa-vie and @daesukiii

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Before you knew it, a week had flown by and a routine was formed. Mornings were spent going to your deli and getting your coffee, where you started picking up San's as well. You weren't sure if you should grab it today since he informed you on Thursday that he had to go undercover for the weekend.

You hadn't seen Yunho or Mingi until Friday, which you expected when you heard Mingi the night before loud and clear. Of course, you bitched at him when you saw him, surprised by how easy the banter that followed and the insults. The same thing happened Saturday and even last night you had heard him. It was getting annoying, even if you had ways to block out most of the sound, you didn't like how it made you feel.

San didn't make it any easier, casually flirting with you, laying on the charm and compliments whenever he could just to leave you flustered but he was respectful about his timing. All week until he had left, leaving you frustrated in a whole new way with his absence. The fact you missed him during the weekend left a bad taste in your mouth, you didn't want to get attached. This position was temporary at best, the unlikelihood of it being permanent better than at first but still slim.

Two weeks didn't make you part of the team after all. Even if you had a growing routine and the reception was less icy, you knew that.

Getting your hopes up was a bad idea, yet here you were, standing in line at the deli for the coffee and breakfast you got almost every morning. You debated on getting San's coffee, since he said he should be there today. Would he be beaten up like last time? The bruises and cuts had barely healed before he went off and you had to admit you were a little worried.

That might be because of your old unit. Hyunjin would complain if he had a cut on his pretty face and Jisung couldn't handle a cold. Neither could Binnie, with both Felix and Minho mothering whenever anyone was injured or feeling sick. Then there was Chan-

Sighing, you shook your head, not ready to go down that road just yet. Today was the last day of your probation and you still weren't ready to talk to him or half of them- Hyunjin had been the exception because, well, he was Hyunjin. And he didn't give you the option to be ready, he insisted on being a part of your life as if nothing had happened: which you truthfully appreciated.

“Why’s such a pretty thing like you sighing? The week just started.” A voice behind you garnered your attention, so you turned to look. A pretty attractive man widened his smile, which surprised you wasn’t sleazy in the least; despite his outfit screaming a typical sleazy man. The animal print button-up, sunglasses pushing his dual-toned hair back, and the hint of a tongue stud as he licked his lips- normally it would have you sneering but on him it looked damned good. Maybe it was the eyeliner?

Either way, he was hot, and he called you pretty. “Mm no particular reason, maybe I’m just not feeling up to work today?” You offered a smile, deciding to take it a step further. “Definitely don’t want to now, not when my day just got more interesting.”

You were glad that his charming smile turned more flirty, even more so when he stepped up next to you. “I’d have to agree, not really in a hurry for my coffee now. You are much more refreshing, pretty girl.”

“Already onto pet names? Before I get your name?” You couldn’t help but tease.

He chuckled, holding out his hand. “Friends call me Mito. Nice to meet you-” Once you gave your name, he hummed thoughtfully. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. Gotta say I think I’d remember seeing such a beauty around here. New job brings you this way?”

You didn’t regret your words when he was looking at you like that, as if you were the best damned meal he ever saw and he couldn’t wait to get a taste. Hell, you were ready to let him have it. Maybe it was because he was the first in a while that had flirted with you? That was a lie, there were plenty. You just had your eyes set on someone else before… now just about anyone was up for grabs.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, I recently moved to the area too. Do you come here often? To this cafe?”

“A friend of mine told me to check it out, I usually go to another one about a block away.” He hummed out, stepping with you as the line moved. “But if you’re here, that’s plenty of reason to make this a regular stop.”

“Or you could just ask for my number?” The words were out before you could even stop yourself, fighting off the heat that flooded your cheeks. Were you that touch-starved that you would be so bold with a man you just met? Who didn’t even give you his real name, just a nickname?

Did that make you easy? Should you be ashamed? Maybe, but it really had been so damned long and it wasn’t like you were going to pull your clothes off for him right now.

“Then how about your number first? And I buy your coffee?” He finally offered once he pulled his eyes back to yours.

No harm in at least seeing where this goes right? “I’ll put my number in for you.” Holding out your hand, you couldn’t help but be a little giddy when he handed you his phone, contacts already open. Few seconds later and you sent yourself a text from his, handing it back just in time for the both of you to step up to the counter to order.

He rattled off four different drinks, while you rattled off two- one of them the same as one of his. You thought it was interesting, San having a common order. “Drinks for friends?”

“Co-workers. What about your extra?” Mito countered, a cheeky grin on his lips as the two of you stepped aside to wait.

“Co-worker.” One that definitely got to you in a way a co-worker shouldn’t… you could blame your sudden boldness on him. Yeah, this was all their fault. San with all his flirting and teasing and Mingi with his constant annoyance and sex sounds the past few nights.

You tried not to show how heated that train of thought made you, nor did you want to admit it any further than that.

“Mm well they’re lucky to get a coffee on me.” He winked, not at all bothered to have bought it.

“I’ll let him know the hottie at the coffee shop hopes he enjoys his coffee.” Laughing, you relaxed against the counter next to him, the two of you sharing a flirty glance. “I also appreciate it, it definitely makes my day better.”

He shrugged. “My absolute pleasure dear, I can always make your day better in other ways too. Help you relax at the end of a long day of work.”

Now that sounded really tempting. Before you could further flirt, your drinks were announced. “Well, that’s our cue, I really needed to get to work anyways.” You didn’t think they would care, but if San was there you did want to get him his coffee and check up on him. “Call me?”

You wanted to tell someone about the hottie at the cafe… was it too soon to text Hyunjin about it? Would San listen? You grimaced at that idea. Sure, tell one man you wanted to bone about a complete stranger that was much more likely to get into your pants and fast.

“Oh definitely. Good luck, beautiful.” He sent a wink in your direction before he turned to start grabbing a few of the good sugars and things. You didn’t stick around to see what he did with them.

It wasn’t until you were halfway down the street that you realized you had forgotten your usual breakfast; instead of turning around to go grab it, maybe giving you a chance to see him again, you shrugged it off. Just meant a bigger lunch or you could always order something.

Such an amazing idea for sure.

Sighing as you headed into the office, you could hear the voices in the back, but you weren’t in a rush to see them just yet. You took your time setting your bag down and your laptop before grabbing San’s coffee to see if he was back.

You might have gotten a little too excited to hear his laugh when you approached the office door, only for it to drain away when you did see him. “Fuck that looks bad.”

“I’m so touched, sweetcheeks.” He had fully taken the pet name from Hyunjin and made it his own- considering how it still managed to fluster you a bit even if you were rolling your eyes at him.

San glanced up when you hissed out, brightening up despite his black eye and arm in a sling. “I’ve missed that beautiful face.” With a dimpled grin he slid off the desk to make his way over to you, stopping only because of the glare you gave him. “What? It’s not as bad as it looks!”

Rolling your eyes you approached. “Sure it isn’t, that sling is just for show. Sit your ass down, I brought you coffee.”

“Aw, but you didn’t know I was going to be here today-”

“Can you two not with the damned couple bullshit?” Jongho sneered from his desk, currently cleaning his weapon. “If it’s not you two flirting up a fucking storm, she’s at Mingi’s throat and I can’t ever tell if they are gunna fuck or fight… or both.”

Yunho laughed from his spot, nudging his friend next to him. “Well that would be great to see regardless. Think you would come out on top?”

Mingi scoffed. “Of course I would, that tiny thing couldn’t handle me. All bark, no bite, like a damned chihuahua.”

“Chihuahua’s bite.” Yunho pointed out with a grin. “And I think this little pet would claw and do some damage. Might be hot as hell though.”

Jongho gagged, pointing his empty mag at the two. “Truth be told my money is on the chihuahua, we forget Mingi is scared of dogs that bite.”

You ignored their banter for the most part, considering it was becoming a daily thing for you, and instead made San sit at his desk while he was watching you with an expression that was almost sweet. “I was hoping you would be, sue me if that makes me soft but at the moment, you are the only thing keeping me from putting a bullet in half the idiot's heads here.” You matched his grin, taking his coffee over to the little coffee station to look for the sugars he liked.

There was a loud bang from a door down the hall, what you recognized as the back entrance, but you ignored it until an unfamiliar- or perhaps somewhat familiar- voice rang in through the office.

Only to freeze.

“I’m back, bitches!!” In a high-pitched singsong tone, a new person stepped into the office. Curious, and suspecting this to be the final detective of the unit you hadn’t met, you glanced over your shoulder.

The gaudy shirt gave him away immediately, the man from the cafe setting the coffee’s on the unused desk as he began talking a mile a minute. “Sannie my man, looking better from the fight already. Got us quite a bit of rep this time around and what better way to celebrate than with a great fucking pussy? Seriously met the hottest fucking broad getting coffee, had no idea such a beauty would be around here but like fuck- got her number.” He giggled like a schoolgirl, bringing a coffee over to San.

San grinned up at him. “You do seem to work fast but I’ll pass on the coffee. Got one already.” He motioned over towards you, Mito turning to finally notice your presence.

Seriously, what was with you and wanting to fuck your coworkers?

“How’d you get one- OH!” It was with great amusement, and perhaps dismay, that he dropped the hot beverage when he realized you were right there in the room. San was quick, catching it mid-air and cursing as he set it aside. “Holy fuck what is my luck today? This is that new job huh?”

Now you weren’t so sure you would take him up on his offer of after-work pleasure; not that you didn’t find him attractive just that you were attempting to draw a line. The whole reason you really hadn’t taken it past flirting with San; he was a co-worker.

“Hi there again, Mito. I take it you would be the famed Jung Wooyoung?” With a light laugh, you waved, attempting civility.

“You two know each other?” Mingi grumbled, leaning in as if this was juicy gossip. He wasn’t the only one, even Jongho had stopped cleaning the barrel of his gun to glance at the still-shocked detective.

Wooyoung recovered quickly, cheeky grin back. “The hottie whose number I got- was hers. Mmm, I get to see you in the office too? Damn- wait, how the fuck had no one told me we have a drop dead gorgeous Goddess as part of our unit now?” He swiveled on the others.

“Didn’t think it was relevant.” San bristled, glancing over at you and the coffee you brought. “Plus you were undercover.”

“Undercover?” Wooyoung asked in obvious confusion. “She doesn’t know how we do things does she?”

Something about the way he said it piqued your interest. You already questioned some things they did here, writing it off as part of the job and necessary: Like Mingi’s constant fucking, how bad the fights were with San, and how deep of an undercover this new detective had to be to have the same influence as Hwon- a known freelancer in the underbelly of the city. That seemed like a pretty solid reputation that would require some years, and better product than just one fighter to get.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “They set the bar pretty low, I'm sure you’ll be fine. Already making a better impression than most of them in the full two weeks I’ve been here.” You shrugged off his advances, turning to finish making San’s coffee which you just now realized you knew by heart… after barely a week.

So why did he act as if being undercover was news to him?

Before you could question him, Captain came in with Seonghwa right behind him. “She’s still in a trial run Wooyo, calm yourself. We were also waiting until you got back to see about field work…” The look he shared with his vice didn’t go unnoticed, not when you were on edge, observing every little tick between the seven of them.

“Oh so she gets to work with me now? Fucking sweet.” Cheering a little, he turned back to you with a wide grin. “So beautiful, I know I can’t compare to some of these fine gentlemen but I promise to treat you good- in the field and out of it.” With a wink he made his way over to you, more flirtatious than he had been back at the cafe. Which would have been nice if you weren’t actively fighting off attraction now.

Fuck.

Wooyoung whistled next to you. “Man were they that disappointing in bed? Wow their game must have dropped considerably. I can make it better for ya.”

Mingi and Yunho both looked up at his comment, stopping the little conversation they were having, just as you glanced up at him. “If you’re implying I slept with any of them, no. Aside from mostly San, they were more ready to kick my ass to the curb.”

You took a second to glance around the room, noticing that Yeosang had joined in and was grabbing a coffee from the few that Wooyoung brought. Seonghwa looked much more stressed than normal and even Hongjoong seemed a little ticked off, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Jongho had gone back to cleaning his gun but there was an ever present smirk on his face while Yunho seemed to be enjoying the chaos unfolding. Mingi’s reaction struck you as the oddest, as he almost appeared as panicked as San did.

“WHAT?!” The holy shriek he let out had you flinching, but he was already turning to the others. “You are telling me that you have been gazing on this fine fucking beauty for two whole fucking weeks and none of you have even gotten a taste? Shameful. All of you are absolutely shameful.” He tsked dramatically, taking in the view as you brought San his coffee. “Not even you Sannie?”

“Not all of us think with our dicks-”

“Mingi does- Fuck not even Mingi fucking Malik had a taste? Ya’ll trippin. Where does she even sit? Was she at my desk? Please say yes-”

“Receptionist.” Seonghwa finally stepped into the conversation, fixing Wooyoung with a glare while Hongjoong was giggling under his breath behind him. “Wooyoung, can you please quiet it? It’s Monday-”

He was broken off by Wooyoung’s flabbergasted gasp. “Up front alone? Damn they really gave you the cold shoulder. It’s okay, beautiful, Wooyoung is here now. Need a nice warm seat, my face is available- or dick. Wouldn’t mind being a step stool either.”

It seemed he would have ranted more if San hadn’t ignored the coffee in your hand to reach out and grab the man’s jaw instead, squeezing it still. “Wooyoung- stop. Fucking stop. Do you think it’s nice to be talking about how you want to fuck our new addition to the unit in front of her?”

“No-” Wooyoung got out through the grip, glancing over at you as you watched with a lifted brow. “I really don’t get why you haven’t- yall fuck around a lot. And she’s beautiful.”

His constant praise was a bit touching, and a few things he said had been very tempting, but you were determined to keep it professional. “I don’t want to sleep with my unit members anyways.”

“Why not?”

“Complicates the job.” You admitted, finding yourself much more calmer despite the turn this morning had taken. Back to square one really.

Wooyoung scoffed, pulling out of San’s grip to look you right in the eye. “Can’t imagine how- or are you unaware that half the time we are on each other’s dicks? I mean Captain’s office is locked half the time because his pants are down and he’s having a grand ol’ time with-” His mouth was quickly covered by San who appeared panicked.

What the fuck were you missing?

“So what, you all fuck each other? In the office too?” You looked around for clarification but the only one who would look at you was Yunho and he just smirked wider.

San seemed even more panicked, glaring at Wooyoung only to be pushed back down on the desk. With his arm in the bind, he fell back. “See for yourself, beautiful.”

Out of all the things that you could expect, watching the new detective lock lips with San was definitely not on the list. Your mouth dropped open, eyes going wide as you tried to comprehend just what you were seeing.

You didn’t have time to process at all, Hongjoong calling out your name before he grabbed your arm and pulled you to your office. The only thought in your head was why were you getting pulled into the office?

Seriously… what the fuck.

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

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olderthannetfic · 4 months

Note

Nearly 75% of fic on AO3 has less than 5 reader comments. Can we please acknowledge that lack of engagement in a positive fashion is the norm in fandom and that writers are expected to work for nothing in return yet readers are allowed to be entitled?

The source of my number

https://www.tumblr.com/transholmes/738776926733336576/and-even-those-numbers-on-the-lower-end-are

Hahahahaha.

Oh, anon.

Okay, first of all, I just posted a bunch of graphs showing exactly this, so not only am I well aware of it, but you also clearly don't read my tumblr much and are just here because some friend of yours is upset that I responded negatively to them about their dumb bookmarking opinions.

Second and more importantly...

No, no one is expected to do anything.

That's crazypants influencer talk where you think your hobbies are jobs that you have no choice about doing.

I suppose I do expect fans to have something at least marginally worthwhile to say—or else I'll block them for being whiny little bitches who make my day dumber as well as less amusing.

But mostly, what I expect is that people will do hobbies because they are fun. If I ever decide that writing fic is too boring, I will stop.

I write because it's fun.

I write original work for money too, and if you want to read that, you're going to have to pay Amazon your cold, hard cash. But I still do it because I enjoy the actual act of writing... at least a lot of the time.

What I see in the bookmark boo-hooing is a bunch of people who haven't noticed the last eighty thousand rounds of this same dumb wank and who not only expect to get the last word but expect that somehow I'm going to signal boost it on my tumblr as that... a tumblr known for contentious debates and nobody ever getting the last word till everyone's exhausted and never wants to hear about paper plates or beans again.

I also see that some of the thinnest-skinned people have fic patreons.

Now, I chose not to bring this up before because it sounds a bit below the belt in that "And thus you're morally impure and thus I can ignore your argument" way... But it's a consistent pattern in these conversations over time, and I do think it's relevant. The biggest sensitive babies are always the ones most afraid of bad reviews but also low engagement, and I think it's because they're caught in some half-pro, half-not limbo where they want the best of both worlds but keep getting the worst of both.

If you behave like a professional who is owed compensation, you can expect a more professional style of response to your work.

And what does the pro world look like? Radio silence. The occasional harsh review. Nobody caring why you wanted to write X or why you couldn't finish Y on time.

If you're here to socialize, you should look for a beta or a couple of good friends who like your blorbos and your style of fic, and then you can squee together about what you've written. It may not come in the form of visible AO3 comments. It may be in private chat.

In some cases, it may just be friends you can talk to about your writing but who aren't actually going to read it. I have plenty of friends who read different things than what I write.

That's what socializing and hobbies look like, dude.

It's fine to point out that many writers do get discouraged by low comment counts and then stop, so if I, as a reader in a fandom, want more, it behooves me to befriend writers and make them feel good.

But at the same time, writers get discouraged or move on to the next fandom all the time for all kinds of reasons. If the critical mass and the zeitgeist aren't there, then they aren't.

Do your hobbies for reasons internal to you.

If the main point is external validation, get into BDSM and find someone excited to indulge your praise kink. It will work a lot better than chasing fame via art.

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genshin-impact-unofficial · 4 months

Text

A Heart Overflows

Genshin men reacting to your drunken confession.

FT. Xiao and Childe

Tags: PG, TW:Drinking, GN!Reader, Crushes, Confession, Pining, Fluff, No One Takes Advantage of Drunk!Reader, Humor and Blushing Note: I’m dipping my toes into writing again so enjoy this short fluff (Needless to say No Beta). This was real fun and I am open for requests if anyone wants a part 2. <3 (Repost)

Xiao - Denial

Xiao appeared moments after his name left your lips. He hadn’t expected you to be in a tavern and surrounded by so people. The room was bustling and he appeared enough distance away to go undetected. The yaksha let out an annoyed sigh, you probably said his name only in passing. Nonetheless, he did his due diligence and lingered for a moment to ensure nothing was amiss. He was lax, until you reached the bottom of your third drink far too quickly. Xiao’s eyes watched you like a hawk. He kept a respectful distance to let you enjoy your night, but after seeing glass after glass go down he made the executive decision to intervene.

“You’re being reckless.” Xiao loomed over you in an instant. He offered no greeting to you or any of the guests at your table. Instead of pleasantries, the adeptus placed his hand over your drink and pushed it aside. You eyes slowly followed up his arm until finally focusing on the dazzling man standing next to you. A bright smile broke out across your features as you beamed up at him, completely and utterly disregarding the irritation he radiated.

“Xiao! Perfect yor here! I w's just talkin' about you.” You exclaimed, lacing your fingers into the hand he held over your drink. “Come drink with us! Please?” You pleaded, even nuzzling your face into his hand for good measure. Xiao stood frozen in place, his brain nearly short circuiting from the unexpected and unfamiliar show of affection. Why were you smiling up at him with such yearning? Why hold his worn and calloused hand so tenderly? And why is his chest hammering so hard that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears? The teasing from the other patrons present, snapped Xiao back to the present situation. Your safety, that’s all that mattered right now.

“You’re clearly already drunk. I’m taking you home.” Xiao avoided your gaze while using your jointed hands to urge you to your feet. It didn’t seem up for debate, but you didn’t mind.

“As lon' as I get t-go with you.” You slurred a little, clumsily rising up with the man's help. “I’ll go an'where for you.” The words rolled carelessly off your tongue while you held the adeptus’ arm as support. He was forced to turn towards you and steady your balance as you rambled on. “I only wa-to be where you are Xiao. I want t-be with you. Is that cool? Like c'n I be yours?” You ask the last question softer and sweetly, leaning your head on his shoulder to speak into his ear. The remaining guests at your table proceeded to whistle and cheer you on, hearing every word.

“You’re talking nonsense. We’re leaving.” Xiao’s voice was notably an octave higher and face burned bright red all the way up to the tip of his ears. The two were gone instantly in a puff of smoke.

Xiao refused to answer any of your babbling or look you in the eye at all for the remainder of the night. No one was able to find the adeptus the next following days either. The night was foggy in your memory and you couldn't piece together why Xiao only approached you after a week of avoidance. Even when you asked, he wouldn’t budge and stated that he is never letting you drink that much again. He convinced himself you were out of your mind drunk and could never mean what you said. Even if your soft touches and alluring words do replay over and over in the yaksha’s mind.

Childe - Tease

You should have known it would be a slippery slope drinking with the Snezhnayan man. His smooth yet teasing remarks had you both knocking back drink after fiery drink. You could have sworn you had Childe on the ropes after that last round. How could he be grinning so impossibly wide if he wasn’t completely wasted? In reality Tartaglia knew he had won ages ago, you had been long since been swaying from side to side and retelling the beginning of your joke for about an hour now. The harbinger just couldn’t bare to pull himself from the entertaining show before him. Your attention was fully his and he would greedily take it for as long as you would offer. It wasn’t often you would be this unreserved with him, and he found himself lost in your carefree antics.

“Did this bottle disappear?” You asked confused, eyeing the man suspiciously. “You didn’t finish this all yourself did you? Man you must be soooooo drunk!” You accused and burst into a fit of laughter. The laugh so infectious that it drew a chuckle from the redhead too.

“Oh definitely! But don’t worry I wouldn't dream of leaving a comrade’s cup empty.” Ajax winked and waved to the bartender for another bottle. Your eyes stayed fixed on the man’s blue eyes, your cheeks rosy and eyes partially lidded. “See something more you’d like?” Childe teased, noting your blatant staring. You blink, unaware you were even staring. A grin spreads across your lips, feeling bold enough to challenge him at his own game.

“Sure, I’d like a kiss.” You teased back in the same tone. “Your lips always look so soft, I want to see if they taste good too.” The harbinger eyes widened and his mind stalled for just a moment, processing how serious the request was. It was surely tempting, but he knew that the prize he was after he would need to behave. The tipsy man was quick to regain his composure, clearing his throat and shooting a flirty smile back at you.

“How about this?” Ajax stood, taking your hands in his to help you to your wobbly feet. “We get you home safe tonight and if you ask again just as sweetly tomorrow...” He paused, coming in close to speak softly into your ear. “I’ll let you taste as much as you want.”

True to his word, Tartaglia ensures you get home safely. You are so far gone the only thing you could really focus on is moving your feet, leading Childe to carrying you back in his arms. He’s positively charmed, quite happy with the outcome of the night. You wake up to a splitting headache and an ominous note on your bedside.

I’ll be waiting ;)

<A/N: I reworked these so hard and even got rid of one lol. I wasn't 100% happy with any of them except Childe.

#genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #childe tartaglia ajax #childe genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin tartagalia #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #xiao

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syd-djarin · 6 months

Text

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo) squirting (sue me), Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him.

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel.

Boiling water for pasta? Joel.

Doing the dishes? Joel.

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel.

And this morning is no different.

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters.

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements.

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not.

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.

Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time.

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache.

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend.

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year.

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible.

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel.

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment.

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise.

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything.

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech.

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence.

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you?

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile, learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you.

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you.

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face.

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice.

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought.

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house.

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you.

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country?

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore.

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you.

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again.

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you.

Driving home from work? You.

Making dinner? You.

Making his morning coffee? You.

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you.

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience.

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron.

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now.

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.”

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable.

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.”

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab.

“You’re doing great. Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.”

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough.

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet.

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her.

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven.

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?”

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination.

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes.

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie.

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too.

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion.

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go.

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places.

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra.

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot.

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy.

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn.

Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home.

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed?

“What uh-what’re you doing here?”

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings.

You have a moment of realization.

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises.

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so.

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace.

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation.

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.”

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here.

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel. You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation.

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile.

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat.

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny. He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him.

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again.

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too.

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him.

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind.

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together.

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same.

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears.

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together.

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time.

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves.

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core.

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties.

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter.

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort.

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?”

“Mhmmm…” You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions.

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it.

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable.

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice. His rock hard cock twitches in his pants.

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him.

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests.

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning.

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs.

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more.

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure.

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad.

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy.

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched.

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.”

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed.

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release.

You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives.

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-”

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole.

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth.

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex.

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong.

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours.

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure.

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before.

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene.

You fucking squirted. Everywhere.

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.”

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.”

His gaze goes dark.

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you.

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough.

THE END

#joel miller #joel fic #joel x f!reader #fanfic #first fanfic #joel miller is babygirl #joel miller smut

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dorarakei · 15 days

Text

"supido" - streetracer! geto x flagbearer! reader x streetracer! gojo

i once posted this plot in my blog lol it took me almost half a year to post it

cw: suggestive, i have no idea about street racing so i might be wrong writing about it, and it's my first writing after hiatus.. so it might be messy!

streetracer! geto who goes by the name "black beta".

the name is not foreign within tokyo's street racing world. along with gojo aka the "white beta"- they both easily rise to fame within the community due to their unparalleled skills and prime choice of cars which would always earn loud cheers and gasps from the crowd during annual car meets. some would even say that it's because of their good looks, too- it certainly a plus point that makes the betas popular for sure.

no one can deny, however, that their dynamics is what truly has become the main appeal to the audience.

it's one of their attractions, after all. the extreme competitiveness within the pair is what makes a race truly a race. they don’t and never play around when it’s time for them to show themselves off in the arena. whichever competition they showed their faces on, it’s already apparent who'll dominate the ranks. the only question that matters each time a new race is about to begin is: which beta is going to win this time?

along with the praises of their abilities and the never ending debate on who’s going to dominate who, you’d sometimes hear other things muttered by the spectators quietly.

you see, ever since gojo and geto became prominent street racers in the country, countless admirers have continued to flock around them.. desperately seeking their attention to experience a night or even just a few minutes of heaven with one of the betas.

but those who seek heaven must know its pitfalls. in this case the betas are so used to the spotlight as well as the crowd’s desire for them, and will not hesitate to ditch someone should they be bored of their attention.

you’d often hear sobs muffled and see a pair of teary eyes amongst the eager crowds- cheering for the betas to start the race while they’re busy flirting through rolled windows with god knows who.

just like others, you’d often question who will finally be able to tame them. certainly not me, you think, it’s just impossible.

but you don’t mind. honestly, you feel you’ve savored enough heaven just by feeling the betas piercing gaze raking your body and savoring their cocky grins behind the wheel as you warm yourself up to wave the flag in front of the whole crowd. even though it would disappear in a second they dash through the road.

little did you know, the betas now realize that they have something new to fight for besides rankings and cars: you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader smut #suguru geto #geto x reader #jjk geto #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut

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tteokdoroki · 11 months

Note

sucking and marking kiri’s neck for your own pleasure not his and leaving purply marks all over him.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, established relationship, suggestive, dry humping, jealousy, possession, excessive marking, hickies, hair pulling, pro hero!kirishima, gn!reader - not beta read !

walk with me nonnie, can you imagine like marking the shit out of kiri’s chest and neck after watching one of his post-rescue interviews— the damsel in distress having thrown themselves all over him on national TV.

he’ll come home tired after his patrol and the agency work— flopping down on the couch to curl into you and while you flick through channels, giving eijirou the unknown silent treatment. the news will flash with the report of his brave work, the girl clinging to him for dear life and looking up at your boyfriend with bright, twinkling eyes as she purposefully drags her words so kiri will pay extra attention to her.

you thought that by the time eijirou came home you’d be completely calm, over it but then just the sight of him getting all flustered rewatching the clip — asking if his arms look to big or if he should have been a little more humble. you can’t even fault kirishima because he’s just too nice to realise when other people are crossing an invisible line. even sitting next to him, you feel like you can smell her all over him and see exactly where she put her hands on him.

so after a few more moments of ignoring the big guy, you haul yourself into his lap — not kissing the way surprise spreads over eijirou’s handsome features before his large hands settle on the dips in your waist. his red eyes darkening with amusement.

“well, hello there, gorgeous.”

“shut up.” the way you latch onto his thick neck could be compared to that of a vampire — sinking your teeth into the golden hue of his skin, nibbling on the flesh until a purple-like bruise rises to the surface. “‘m mad at you,” you whisper, voice basking in a huskiness that empties eijirou’s brain. he’s too slow, too sweet to catch onto what’s happening.

instead he twitches and rumbles and whines underneath you as you use his chest and neck like a canvas. you aggressively paint shades of blue, burgundy and purple across eijirou’s skin, slowly but surely turning him into a needy mess. he chases a friction that you don’t give to him even while perched pretty in his lap. he whines like an angel’s song as you tongue the marks you’ve given him, lapping at the sensitive areas on your boyfriend’s collar bones while you debate on covering them up with more.

having this amount of control and possession over such a big and strong pro hero sends loved up and hormones shooting across your brain and right around your body. it makes you feel good knowing that red riot lets you have him like this, let’s you do these things to him. even though you both know he could very well turn this situation around.

“please, honey. i just wanna…god let me feel you. please?” kirishima pleads and begs as you litter him with enough love bites to last a life time. you know it feels good for him, but for you it’s better. like taking a shot of whatever alcohol you desire — it gives you a buzz. makes you hyperaware that everyone will see your claim in eijirou peeking out of his hero costume.

“baby,” he tries again, breathless and bucking his hips up into yours, anything to soothe the aching, leaking hard-on he sports. “god, i know i’ve got some teeth on me…but you’re really tearin’ a guy up here. please give me more… s’frustrating.” kirishima mewls weakly but lets you grab the black roots of his hair, tugging his head back so you can expose more of his unmarred flesh to your ravenous mouth.

you have an appetite for ruining him, blessing every inch of his sensitive skin with your bite marks. “you know what’s really frustrating, eijirou?” you mumble after sucking on a spot just under his ear — one of those spots that makes his huge body convulse under a simple touch. “watching your boyfriend let some girl put her hands all over him. watching him do nothing about it too.” he groans low and sexy at what you say, hiccuping between the open mouthed kisses you trail down to his plush chest. “it’s like you wanted to make me mad on purpose, red.”

“maybe…fuck… maybe i did.” kirishima sighs, back arching from the couch when you wrap your wet mouth around his juicy peck — biting down on his pebbled nipples before you move to leave teeth marks all across them. “if it gets you like this.”

you lick, you suck, you bite and teeth and bring red riot crumbling down to the ground. by the time you’re done, his chest, neck and tits are sore with midnight purple marks you’ve left all over them and kirishima lets you kiss every single one to soothe him.

it’s safe to say that the headlines reporting in red riot change over the next few days — most of them highly focused on the aftermath of your jealousy he wears proudly on his exposed chest.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima smut #kirishima thirst #kirishima imagine #bnha smut #bnha thirst #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagine #eijirou kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima smut #mha smut #mha thirst #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger

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clone-whore-99 · 6 months

Text

Perfect Stranger

Hunter x f! Reader

18+ minors gtfo

Warnings: SMUTTY MCSMUTTERSON! unsafe consumption of alcohol, one night stand, morning sex, 69ing, oral (both receiving), overstimulation, fingering, doing the deed with strangers, not beta or proof read. LMK if I missed any (✿◡‿◡)

Summary: Waking up next to stranger leads to a series of pleasurable events.

Authors note: Turns out Hunter is my comfort character and nothing gets me back into writing like the death of a loved one. Those were things I wish I didn't have to learn like this, but at least my pain can be your gain ❤

Also please like, reblog and maybe even comment if you enjoy this, it really means a lot to me 🥺👉👈

If you want to, you can also help me by buying me a coffee ❤

The galaxy. Vast. Big. Dangerous.

But not at this moment. At this moment, you were safe and secure.

Which was odd, considering you were a single woman living alone, and yet there was an arm draped around your waist and a heart beating beneath your head.

The last rotation was a complete blur to you, only a few flashes of memories appearing before you, then disappearing just as quickly.

Slowly you opened your eyes and once the focus had set in, you were met with a sight to behold. Rock hard abs, as if they had been sculpted in marble just for you to see. And from them was this trail of short trimmed hair, urging your gaze to follow it lower. Only to be cut off by a pair of tights, holding on for dear life, low on the strangers’ hips.

That’s when you realized the shirt you were wearing must've been the strangers as well. It was matching in color and seemingly in texture too. It didn’t feel like anything had happened the night before, but maybe you had just been too drunk to realize. Though if that had been the case, you probably wouldn’t feel so safe in his arms. But you did.

Curiosity finally getting the best of you, you slowly - careful as to not wake the stranger - managed to turn your whole body around, so you were now facing him.

You were still for a moment, waiting to see if you had disturbed his slumber. But his low snoring and calm heartbeat continued, proving success in your quest.

His other hand was prepped behind his head, the shy morning sun barely peeking through the window, highlighting his features in an almost perfectly picturesque way.

His arms were muscular and led towards these broad, strong shoulders that looked like they were made to hold the weight of worlds on them. Just like his abs, his jaw looked like it had been hand sculpted and around it hung this beautiful, dark curly hair, held back by a bandana.

Weird, you thought, sleeping with a bandana on. Though it seemed like sleep had probably taken him by surprise.

The bandana had a skull painted on it and right underneath that skull, was half of the man's face tattooed.

Delicately, you let a finger trace the tattoo, starting from the bandana down. The tattoo avoided his eyebrow, but covered his eyelid which could not have been a pleasant feeling. It avoided his nose and a big part of his cheek, much like a skull in itself.

Your finger followed it all the way to where it met, at the edge of his lip in the shape of teeth. His lips curled into a smirk underneath your soft pad. He was awake.

This didn’t stop you though, as you continued your tracing towards the middle of his lips, which then perked up into a kiss.

You let your hand fall back down to rest on his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The man let out a huff, though his smirk persisted. “It was bound to happen,” he replied nonchalantly, his voice deep and raspy, sending a thrill straight towards your core.

The strangers’ eyelids were twitching, as if debating whether or not they should face the day or stay in the comfortable darkness.

“Did we…”

“No.” His answer was blunt, not even allowing you to finish the thought. “I’m not really into drunk people.” He then added with a devilish smirk.

“Then how come you’re here?” The words escaped your mouth before you had even thought them through.

His eyes opened just enough for him to see you, dark and caring. “Guess you really achieved your objective, huh. You went to the bar last night, put down a bunch of credits, claiming you wanted to forget. Never specified what though.” His hand began stroking your back, sensual in nature but with a hint of trying to map out your body with just his touch. “By the time it closed, you were a wreck. I helped you home, get clean and put you to bed. I was about to leave when you began whimpering and turning onto your back, so I decided to stay the night to make sure you’d make it through. Guess I fell asleep along the way, though.”

Heat rose in your body, fuzziness tickling your insides and forcing your lips into a smile. It was easy for him to lie to you, but his words rung truth within you. You meekly - yet sincerely - thanked him and silence fell over the two of you again.

His hand continued its disguised mapping of your body, while your finger began tracing the tattooed ribs on his chest.

Somehow the tracing turned into kissing, at first just one, but when there was no protest, several more. And when the tattoo ended, the kissing continued onto his abs, then hips and down the trail of hair, all the way to the band of the tights, which was now restraining a bulge.

The stranger wasn’t exactly innocent either, as you reached further down, so did his hand. From your back to your hips, down your thigh and up again, until it could grab a handful of ass.

You glanced back at him, wordlessly asking for permission to continue.

He responded by grabbing your hips and pulling you over him, so you had a knee on each side of his head.

As you freed his cock from its restraints, he pulled your panties to the side to get a better view. He mumbled something under his breath, you couldn’t hear what but it sounded like admiration.

You were also guilty in taking a moment to admire the sight before you. His cock stood tall, average in height though far from the same could be said about the girth. Your mouth began salivating, your walls clenching around nothing, which the stranger evidently noticed with a chuckle. The thought of having him inside you was almost enough to drive you crazy.

Like a starved person, you licked all the way from the base to the head, before engulfing your mouth around his cock.

The stranger hissed at the sensation, straining his hips not to thrust up into you. His approach was far less aggressive and more like he was studying your sex and seemingly relishing the scent of your arousal, though you could be mistaken.

After what felt like an eternity of him just staring at your most private parts, fingers every now and then ghosting over where you wanted the most contact, his tongue finally pressed onto your sensitive bud.

At first it was just small, careful licks. Then his lips closed around your clit and began to switch between licking and sucking. You moaned into his cock and he returned the favor, the sound vibrating through your body.

You couldn’t even close your hand fully around the base of his cock, though you did your best while pumping up into your mouth. You kept switching between licking, sucking and slurping on the now messy mixture of precum and spit.

Once confident enough, you let go of his base to fondle the balls instead. Relaxing your throat, you took in all of him, hollowed your cheeks and swallowed.

The strangers head back with a groan, abandoning your sex in the process. “Kriff, I - ah - won’t lassssth,” he muttered barely apprehensible. His hands grabbed onto your thighs for dear life.

You didn’t care that he had stopped on his end. The pleads, moanings and groans were more than enough to satisfy you. You continued, feeling his balls tightening in your hands with each little movement you made.

It didn’t take long before hot, creamy ribbons shot down your throat, as you swallowed around his cock. The stranger had probably thought that was the end of it, but you were feeling mischievous and continued sucking, overstimulating the poor guy.

His hands were now holding you in a bruising grip, his moans sporadic and desperate. But when he let out a weak “w-wait!” you stopped and glanced back at him.

In less than a second, your world was turned upside down - literally. You knew the man was strong - I mean, just look at him - but you had never imagined that he could so easily just grab you, pick you up and spin you around, so that now you were lying in his place and he was on top of you.

It had all happened so quickly, you barely realized it before he was taking off your panties completely.

“Oh, and by the way Y/N” He said with a smug look while patting the inside of your thigh. “The name you’re gonna be moaning is Hunter.”

That was a challenge and a promise.

His attack was relentless. If you had thought his careful exploring earlier was due to inexperience, you’d be sorely mistaken. He started with a couple of broad strokes of his tongue, from your entrance to your clit, before diving into you. His tongue was exploring your insides, slurping in all you gave him. Meanwhile he was expertly using his nose to tease your clit, building your orgasm in no time.

You were helpless in his hands. Your body squirmed under the sudden attack, but his grip was holding the most important part still. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, though you kept stopping yourself right before saying his name - you weren’t going to lose the challenge that easily.

Your fingers slid through his luxurious locks, gripping anything they could get a hold of in an attempt to ground yourself. It didn’t work.

Your back arched into the bed, as the coil in your stomach snapped and waves of pleasure washed over you. A string of incoherent words escaped your lips and if the stranger - Hunter - hadn’t held you in place, you would probably have ascended to the stars.

He ate up everything you gave and then some. Your whole body was shaking as it came down from the orgasm, but he wasn’t relenting. No, he wanted revenge from you overstimulating him, he wanted you to moan his name and he was going to get it.

Hunter moved the attention back to your clit, sucking and licking the now oversensitive bud. He prodded one finger inside you, quickly adding another when he realized there was space. They seemed to be searching your insides, until he found that hard to reach spot inside you.

“Hunter!” You gasped, back instantly arching into the bed once more. You felt the smirk on his lips, as his gaze raised to meet yours. It was hungry, mischievous and victorious.

While remaining eye contact, he added a third finger, filling and stretching you more than you thought possible. All the while, his tongue continued its expert work.

You held eye contact for as long as possible, but had to give up, as each thrust and stroke of his fingers coerced a second orgasm to come forth.

“Hu-Hunter,” You moaned, by now having completely given up all control of the situation. “I can’t.”

This seemed to finally stop the oral attack on your sex, though the fingers continued their hard work. “You can, Y/N. I know you can. Do it, for me, cum for me.” His voice was deep and raspy, encouraging yet commanding. How could you ever deny him his wish?

Hunter returned to his work on your clit, the small break from the stimulation and then having it instantly revived was what finally sent you over the edge.

His name was on your lips like a chant, your vision blurring as tears pricked your eyes, your walls squeezing around his fingers while the rest of you was spasming from the orgasm. His free hand was making sure you weren’t hurting yourself or him in the process, but had given up on keeping you in place. He had won and was now letting you ride out the high.

When you finally returned to this plane of existence, Hunter was sitting up, caressing your thigh and looking at you with such admiration. His hair was hanging loose around his face, making you realize you pulled off the bandana during the act. Half of his face and upper chest was glistening in your juices.

He was beautiful.

“Think you can handle one more round?” He asked, once you had managed to catch your breath again. His eyes quickly darted downwards before returning to you, urging you to follow their destination.

And right there was his weeping cock, standing at attention and ready for action.

You looked back up at him, quirking up an eyebrow as you challenged: “Do you?”

Dividers by: @djarrex and unknown

Taglist: @zoeykallus @rain-on-kamino @ashotofspotchka @chxpsi @maulsrightleg @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @wildmoonflower @nunanuggets @lokigirlszendaya @wholesuhmsstuff @pb-jellybeans @dangracoon

(LMK if you want to be added to the tag list (✿◡‿◡))

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daffi-990 · 18 days

Text

Fuck it Friday 💋

Tagged by @tizniz @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie and @wikiangela. Thanks friends for the tag! Mwah! xx

Have some more from the last chapter of Rival Firefighters 🚒 . This may be the last snippet I share cos well, I don’t wanna share it all plus she’s almost done! Thinking of posting Chapter One next week sometime but am debating whether I should get a beta reader or just fuck it and ball 😅

Prev snippet here (btw snippets aren’t always in order. I post whatever tickles my fancy)

They make it to the bedroom and Eddie pushes Buck onto the bed, quickly stripping off his pants before removing his own clothes sans underwear. He turns to Buck, drinking in the sight of him lying on his bed in nothing but his come stained underwear, waiting for Eddie. It takes his breath away, his heart swelling with love and adoration for this man he is now lucky enough to call his own.

Without wasting any time, Eddie climbs onto the bed and straddles Buck's hips. He looks down at his best friend as he runs his hands over Buck's chest, feeling every muscle beneath his fingers. Buck is big and strong already, but he’d mentioned to Eddie that he wanted to get bigger. The thought of more Buck has Eddie almost salivating.

He leans down to capture Buck's lips again in a deep kiss while grinding against him, feeling their cocks rubbing together through the thin fabric of their boxers. Buck moans into the kiss and reaches up to tangle his fingers in Eddie’s hair, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss even further. Their bodies move together creating sparks of pleasure with each dirty grind.

“Fuck. I want to take you apart slowly,” Eddie says, the words tumbling out in a rush, his voice low and rough with desire, “spend an agonising amount of time showing you just how much I love you.” His gaze locks with Buck’s as he continues. “But right now I feel like if I don’t get inside you soon, I’m gonna die. I just,” he licks his lips and ducks his head feeling heat beginning to bloom high in his cheeks, “I want our first time together to be, I dunno, special.”

“Hey,” Buck brings a hand up to caress Eddie’s cheek, his fingers scraping along stubble, “it doesn’t matter if our first time is slow and missionary style or rough and dirty against a wall,” Buck replies, Eddie’s cock twitching at the mental image, “you could bend me over the kitchen counter and fuck me until I can’t stand and it’s still going to be special because it’s you and me.” He leans up to kiss Eddie softly on the lips.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @sibylsleaves @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @princessfbi @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @shitouttabuck @devirnis @bidisasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @goforkinard @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @jesuisici33 @neverevan @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @nmcggg @captain-hen @bekkachaos @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 @mellaithwen and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your offical tag 🏷️

#daffi writes #fic: stuck now so long we just got the start wrong #rival firefighters fic #buddie wip #buddie #I can’t believe she’s going to be finished soon 😭#I’m so excited and nervous to share her with everyone!

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musings-of-a-rose · 3 months

Text

A New Life

Pairing: Clint “Freaky Tales” x f!readers (there’s 2, both have nicknames)

Word Count: 11,000+ (it's a long one, folks!)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: a huge shoutout to @nerdieforpedro for beta reading this and giving me the confidence to actually hit post. And to Mr. Rose for helping me out of a corner.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Clint Masterlist

CLINT

“No! No, please! Tell The Guy I'll step back from his territory!”

Clint stares down at the man who's now covered in his own blood, coughing and spitting up the red liquid onto the floor, splashing a little onto Clint's shoes. He looks at the man and grabs his hair, yanking his head back and staring him in the eyes, seeing fear at the rapidly approaching end of his life.

“Then you should've stopped when we warned you.”

Clint slides his knife into the man's abdomen, watching as the man coughs and sputters, small gasps all he can manage as the life leeches from his body. When he slumps, Clint knows it's over. He sits back, shaking his head and sighing, looking around at the mess all over the tarp he'd placed on the floor. I'm getting tired of this.

He cleans up and disposes of the body properly, his stomach rumbling by the end of his work. A quick glance at his watch tells him it's nearly 3am. He hopes there's still someplace open where he can at least get a cup of hot coffee.

He drives in the general direction of his apartment for nearly 15 minutes before he sees the neon OPEN sign on the side of a little corner diner. He parks around the back, adjusting his pants and smoothing down his shirt before heading inside, a little bell ringing as the door swings open. It's quiet, only one other person sitting at a booth in the back corner, a man who doesn't look when the bell dings, too absorbed in his own issues.

“Hey, hun! Have a seat wherever and I'll be right over!” The waitress calls from somewhere behind the counter. Clint looks around and finally settles on sitting at the counter, spinning to face the counter on the bar stool.

The waitress suddenly appears, smoothing out her skirt before turning to face him and when she does, Clint momentarily forgets how to breathe. She is the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen and her smile makes him feel warm and safe, things he hasn't felt since he was a child. And even then, that's debatable.

Her smile is bright and wide. “Sorry to make you wait! That damn sink pipe’s entire purpose is to annoy me, I swear. Want some coffee, hun?” She's already got the pot in her hand, regular, not decaf. He nods and she pours him a mug with a smile, sliding a small bowl with some creamer and sugar packets towards him.

“You look hungry. You a steak man?”

Clint pours one of the sugar packets into his black coffee. “I like steak.”

“Great! The steak here is-” She leans closer to him “-edible. But it's best in town at 3am!”

Clint chuckles, the sound almost unfamiliar to him. “Sounds perfect.”

She writes down his order and turns, placing the ticket in a clip and rotating it, dinging another bell so the cook knows he has an order.

“James? You back there? You have an order!”

There's some sort of affirmative grunted towards her that she accepts with a shake of her head, turning back to face Clint.

“James is a nice guy. Lost his hearing in one ear in the war. Sometimes you have to be a little louder for him. At his request of course.”

Clint nods and takes a sip of his coffee, expecting it to taste bitter and cheap, exactly like what you'd expect coffee at a diner open at 3am to taste like. But to his surprise, it doesn't. A pleasant mix of coffee beans washes over his tongue and he can't help a little moan escape him.

A different smile, this one more sly. “You enjoying your coffee?”

Clint feels the tips of his ears heat up. “Uh, yeah.”

“I'm glad you like it, Mr….” Her eyebrows raised and Clint chokes down his sip.

“Clint. No need for a Mr., ma'am.”

She waves her hand with another smile. “No ma'am here. I'm not that old!” She chuckles and tells him her name. “But everyone calls me Poppy.”

Poppy. He likes that name. It makes him feel happier somehow, like she's somehow taking care of him, not just because she's a waitress.

She continues chatting with him while she bustles around, cleaning things and restocking sugar trays, and cleaning menus, Clint chiming in now and again. The man in the back corner eventually leaves and they're alone in the diner together. Aside from James in the back, who had just set his plate down on the back counter.

“Thanks, James!”

“I'm going out for a smoke, Poppy.”

She gives him a thumbs up and James takes off his apron, walking out of the side door. Poppy turns and makes a little fanfare of bringing him his diner steak and potatoes, setting it down in front of him and then casually placing the A1 steak sauce next to him.

“You might need this.” She winks at him and he melts, what can only be described as butterflies in his stomach.

Get it together, Clint. You don't do this. You don't like people like this. Fall for people.

But then he's done with his steak, telling her some funny stories from his childhood. She's sitting across the bar from him, leaning on her elbows as she listens, laughing at all the right places. He's trying desperately hard to not be obvious in staring at her boobs, which had been pushed together tighter the more she leans forward.

“If you don't mind me asking, Poppy. Why are you working this shitty shift?”

She cocks her head to the side slightly, her eyes on his. “Someone has to be here to serve you.”

He nods. “Yes but why you?”

She waits a moment. “Maybe I'm just waiting for the right man to come on by.”

Shit. He had told himself she wasn't flirting, that she was just being nice to him for a tip. That he could just flirt a little and then be on his way. Normally, he'd take her out back and fuck her in his truck, promises to call again that he knows he'd never fulfill. But none of those women were her. None of them made him feel this way, her laugh and big eyes smiling at him while he sits here with blood on his hands and his past full of monsters.

So instead, he surprises himself.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”

She glances at the clock on the wall. “If you're not too tired, I'm off in an hour and you can take me for breakfast.”

He smiles an actual genuine smile. “Breakfast it is.”

The conversation flows between them at breakfast, both of them laughing and joking throughout it all. And at the end, he walks her to her car, asking her on another date before they reach it, her enthusiastic “yes” giving him the confidence to kiss her, his hands cupping her face as their lips melt together. He presses her back against the side of her car, his body aching to be with her, inside of her. But not like this. She's different. She's special. He wants to take his time with Poppy. So he pulls back, a promise to pick her up in 2 nights for dinner.

Clint takes her out on several more dates, falling harder for her each time he sees her, hears her laugh, sees how attentive she is towards him. He doesn't think he deserves her, knows he doesn't, but maybe she's his way out of his world of darkness and bad deeds. The world he's kept hidden from her, whether because he's afraid she'd leave him or he's too afraid to bring his darkness into her light he's not sure.

But Clint knows he can't leave her. He's gone too far.

2 weeks in, and his resolve to treat her like a lady, an actual relationship, which is what they'd finally called it, snaps when she opens her door in a black dress that accentuates everything about her that he loves.

“I know we were supposed to go out tonight Clint, but I thought maybe I could cook for you instead?” She looks nervously up at him and he knows right there, he'd do anything she asked him to.

“If it's not too much trouble.”

She shakes her her, chuckling lightly. “Not at all. Come on in.”

Clint follows her inside, hearing her lock the door behind him. He kicks his boots off and places them by the door.

“I thought we could have steak. A real one. Dear James does his best with what he has but…” her voice trails off and Clint chuckles.

“Steak sounds delicious.”

“Great! Would you like a quick drink before I start cooking? Or are you too hungry?”

“A drink sounds great, thanks.”

He takes a beer from her and she leads him to the couch. They both sit, taking sips from their drinks before setting them on the coffee table. He's nervous, his palms a little sweaty. Why is he so nervous? Clint looks at Poppy and he can see the way she's shifting around slightly, obviously nervous herself, which somehow gives him the confidence he needs. Confidence that he's never had a problem with before.

When he touches his lips to hers, he knows he belongs to her forever.

POPPY

I knew what I was doing, inviting Clint in for dinner instead of going to a restaurant as we had planned. But I wanted to take care of him, try and help quell that sadness and regret hidden just behind his eyes, the darkness he swallows and blinks away when our eyes meet, for the sake of me.

We settle on the couch, each taking a sip of our respective drinks before setting them on the coffee table. I see him wipe his palms across his jeans, a sweet, nervous gesture and I smile shyly, turning my head to the side to tuck some hair behind my ear. I look back up at him and find him looking at me already, his deep brown eyes seeing into me and I feel myself stepping off the cliff, diving headfirst into love. Could it be love this early? I’d felt it before once, in my youth. But I had been burned and so kept my heart behind a lock but somehow, Clint already had the key.

He keeps his eyes on mine when he slides closer to me, hesitating briefly before placing his hand on my bare thigh, my skin tingling where he touches me. I angle my body towards him a little more, feeling his large hand cup my cheek, a soft smile on his lips before he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. We’ve kissed plenty, made out in the back of his truck for hours and hours, but this is different. The energy has shifted, our paths fully converging to become one.

He slides his hand on my thigh up higher and I spread my legs for him, opening more than just my body to him. His fingertips brush against my panties and I inhale sharply against his lips, his hand stalling.

“Is..is this ok?” He asks, a nervous tremble in his voice.

“Please,” I whisper, begging him to touch me again. “Please touch me.”

He kisses me again, pushing his tongue into my eager mouth and I feel him between my legs again, gently stroking up and down, up and down, feeling how wet my underwear has become. He pushes aside my panties, slowly swirling one thick finger around me before pushing in, my whine breaking our kiss before he grunts out, mumbling something about how tight I feel.

He deepens the kiss, his finger gently stroking inside of me, brushing against me and I moan into his mouth, my legs twitching. When he stops, pulling away from me, I think I’ve done something wrong. But then he slides from the couch, getting on his knees, kissing my thighs as he hooks his fingers in my underwear, sliding them off and tossing them over his shoulder. He pushes my legs open wide, putting them over his shoulders as he stares between my legs, eyes dark and admiring.

He looks up at me and I nod, knowing what he wants even though I’m not really experienced with it. He places soft kisses on my inner thighs, slowly moving to where his hand had been moments before. When his tongue touches me, I gasp, a breathy “oh” escaping me while my thighs try to slam against his head of their own volition. He chuckles against me and I moan at the vibration, feeling him wrap his hands around my legs to push me open wider. His tongue is relentless, swirling around, tapping, and I reach for him, tangling my fingers into his hair and tugging on it when he lightly sucks on me.

“Oh…oh, I-” I break open, cry out as I come, Clint’s tongue guiding me through my release. I release his hair, my legs falling open as he sits back, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

He stands, offering me his hand and I take it, allowing him to pull me up against his body. He smells like cedar, a hint of cigarette smoke, and me, my head swimming with the scent of it all.

“Bedroom?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.

I nod, almost too much in my enthusiasm. “This way.”

I take his hand and lead him on wobbly legs down the small hallway to my bedroom, grateful that I had made the bed this morning. Clint closes the door behind himself and turns to look at me. Several long moments pass where we just look at each other, the energy in the air electric, as if he didn’t have his head between my legs just moments ago. He closes the distance between us in a step or 2, stopping just short of me.

“Turn.”

I do as he says, feeling his large hand work my zipper down, his fingers brushing against my skin as he pulls the dress down and off, coming back to do the same to my bra. He moves my hair off my neck, placing soft kisses there as one hand wraps around my boob and the other dips a finger between my thighs. My head lolls back and I moan, feeling him pinch and tug at my nipple as I get wetter and wetter. I can feel him nearly bulging out of his jeans, the denim pressed against my ass, so I gently grab his wrists and turn around.

I say nothing as I start to unbutton his flannel, sliding it down and off his broad shoulders, noting the appearance of a new scratch on his chest since the last time he’d taken his shirt off around me. I keep my eyes on his face as my hands unlatch his belt, popping open the button on his pants before carefully sliding down his zipper. I push his jeans down, getting on my knees to help slide them off of his legs. I look up at him as I pull down his underwear, a small grunt from him as he springs free. I want to return the favor, take him in my mouth but then his hand grips my chin, pulling me back to standing.

“I’d love to feel your mouth on me, but Poppy, I want to make love to you.”

He helps me lay back on the bed, his eyes roaming over my naked body, more dark loving than I’ve ever seen them.

“You’re so beautiful, Poppy.”

I spread my legs, allowing him to settle between them. He kisses me, soft at first, his mustache tickling my upper lip, his hands sliding across my body, goosebumps following in his wake. His lips travel down my neck, finding a spot just below the side of my jaw that has me squirming, my fingers burying themselves in his hair.

But then he pushes in and the world stops, nothing else in the world exists but us. We meld together, our bodies moving as one, slotting together like we were made for each other. I writhe under him, his hips breaking me open out of my cocoon, showing me what pleasure really is, what love really is. His hips thrust a little harder and I come, his name tumbling from my lips like a chant, praising him as my nails dig into his back. I feel his hips sputter, soft grunts and pants in my ear as he comes with me, his forehead coming to rest against mine.

“Holy shit,” he says, his breath puffing out against my face. “That was..”

“It was.”

He lifts his head and looks at me, kissing me softly before pulling out, and getting a washcloth to clean me up.

A steak dinner never tasted so good.

CLINT

He was the happiest he’d ever been. Poppy was a beacon of light in the darkness that was his life, always there to welcome him with open arms. It had only been a few weeks, but he loved her. He knew deep down that he never wanted to be without her.

He just felt so fucking guilty about it.

He was torn on telling her about his job, his real job, not the one he told her he did. He wasn’t a delivery man, although he did deliver whatever terrible fate that The Guy bestowed upon those who crossed him in business. He’d been a little too preoccupied tonight and his mark managed to slice his cheek with a knife before Clint snuffed the life from him.

But Poppy doesn’t even question it, just takes him into the bathroom and gently cleans his cut, dabbing some alcohol on it that burns, but not enough to distract him from the guilt he feels. He knows he has to get out.

A few months go by and he couldn’t be happier with Poppy. They had been dating for about 8 months and he wanted desperately to ask her to move in with him, but first he had to leave The Guy. He couldn’t have him showing up whenever he felt like it. No matter what, he would protect Poppy from that side of his life.

After he kills his next mark, he heads back to The Guy to give him his confirmation of delivery, so-to-speak.

“What would I do without you, Clint?”

Clint shifts his weight to his back leg, hands on his hips. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”

The Guy sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “Oh?”

Clint clears his throat. “Yeah. I uh, I need to retire.”

The Guy raises an eyebrow. “Retire?”

“Yeah. My body isn’t what it used to be. My knees almost gave out tonight. I can’t continue like this.”

The guy sits there, his fingers still laced together as he studies Clint. “You have served me well, Clint. I’ll let you out, holding onto that evidence in case you try to cross me-”

“I would never. I’m not a snitch.”

The Guy holds up a hand. “I know. One can never be too careful these days. I think you get that?” Clint nods. “Good. I’ll let you out but I have one more delivery for you to make first. You’re the only one I can trust with it. What do you say?”

Clint stands there for a moment, thinking about his options. He only has one. “Deal.”

They shake on it, The Guy gives him the details, and Clint is out the door, feeling a little lighter now that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel. He’s finally getting out, starting a new life free of bloodshed with the love of his life.

He killed that last mark in near record time, The Guy shaking his hand and thanking him for all of his hard work.

He knows she’s on the late shift again tonight, so after he cleans up, Clint heads over to the diner, their diner, watching Poppy move about through the dusty window. She smiles at a customer, but when Clint walks in and she sees him, her entire faces lights up, her eyes beaming as she crosses the room, pressing her lips to his and forgetting herself for a few seconds before pulling back, her face hot.

“Clint! To what do I owe this surprise?”

“Move in with me.”

He hadn’t meant to ask it like that, so blunt and harsh. But he couldn’t wait anymore and it sort of just came out when he opened his mouth. Surprise on her face, her eyes widening for a moment before that smile splits her face again, the one she has only for him.

“When can I get my things?”

They get married exactly 1 year from the day they met.

“Poppy! What are you doing?” Clint rushes into the kitchen, quickly snatching the knife Poppy was using to spread peanut butter on her sandwich.

“Clint, I’m pregnant, not sick. I can do it myself.”

“The doctor said to rest.”

She smiled, a soft smile and squeezed his bicep. “The doctor said for me to relax the last 2 months. Not stay in bed entirely.”

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just..let me do things for you, ok? Have a seat on the couch and I’ll bring your food.”

Poppy looks like she wants to argue for a moment, but then gives in, tossing her hands in the air before heading into the living room.

“And don’t forget the-”

“Apples. I got it, Poppy.”

Clint arranges 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some apple slices on a plate, also grabbing a glass of water to set on the coffee table in front of her. She reaches for the plate with grabby hands, smiling and shifting her weight as she settles in, making light work of the food before downing half the glass of water.

“Thanks, babe.”

Clint puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her head. “Anything for you.” He shifts a little. “You need a foot massage?”

“The day I turn down a foot massage, just know I’m a clone.”

Clint chuckles as he helps Poppy turn, laying back on the couch, her head on the arm. He takes one of her feet in his hands and starts to work them, spending extra time on the knots and sore spots. The sounds Poppy makes has him shifting in his seat, his hands starting to work up her legs. He gets to her upper thighs, leaning down to press kisses along her inner thigh before she gently grabs his wrist.

“Hey now, that’s what put this here,” she gestures to her belly.

Clint presses another kiss to her inner thigh, higher up this time, listening as her breath hitches. “Well then, let me help you relax.”

Clint spends the next hour buried between her legs, Poppy’s fingers twisting in his hair, his fingers digging into her legs as she chants his name over and over and he thinks this would be the perfect way to go: smothered between his wife’s thighs.

“And that makes the last payment! Will you be taking home the crib today, sir?”

Clint puts his wallet in his pocket, nodding to the cashier. “I’ve got my truck out front.”

“Let me call for some help.” The cashier leans over her mic and asks for someone named John to come to the front for customer assistance. She makes idle chit chat with Clint, asking how his wife is doing so close to her due date.

“She’s stubborn and better be sitting her ass down and letting me take care of her,” Clint chuckles along with the cashier.

“Don’t be too hard on her. She is fighting that nesting urge. It’s hard to resist, trust me!”

John comes up and takes the other end of the large box that contains a beautiful wooden crib that Poppy had laid eyes on months ago, determined to have that exact one for their baby. Clint had put it on layaway that same day, making sure he’d pay it off in time to assemble it before the baby’s arrival. He thanks John and takes off, glancing in the back at the box and smiling a little, already envisioning Poppy’s ecstatic face when she sees what he’s brought home. He turns onto their gravel drive, pulling into his parking spot and shifting the truck to park. He glances up at the house before reaching for the handle and freezes.

The door is cracked open.

It’s very unlike Poppy to leave the door open, even when bringing in groceries. Clint’s eyes remain glued to the door, but he leans over to open the glovebox, carefully extracting the handgun he had stashed there. He checks the make sure it’s loaded before getting out of the truck, cautiously moving towards the front door, his stomach twisting tighter and tighter the closer he got.

There were wood chips on the front step, an indication that this was not simply a case of forgetting to close the door. Someone had broken in. Gently, he pushes the door open, waiting a moment and hears nothing. He steps inside, gun raised and ears on high alert for anything, any sound. The main hall and living room are empty, aside from furniture tossed about, some of it destroyed. But as he cuts through the dining room just about to reach the kitchen, his boot slips and he looks down, choking back the fear and panic that immediately threatened to take him over.

Blood.

He pushes into the kitchen, eyes roaming around at the mess and then he steps around the island, dropping to the floor and tossing the gun aside.

“Poppy? Oh God Poppy? Can you hear me?” He cradles her head in his lap, tears flowing down his cheeks. Her color is pale and he can’t tell where the blood is coming from exactly. But then she blinks and he lets out a choking cry as she looks at him.

“Hey baby! Don’t move. I’m gonna call someone.”

“C…Cl…Clint…” Her words are choked and he can tell she’s holding back tears.

“Ssshh don’t talk, baby. You’ll be alright. I’m here now.” He reaches up on the counter, hand tapping around and landing on the phone before pulling it down to him. He quickly dials 9-1-1, barking at the responder to send an ambulance immediately before Poppy calls his name again and he drops the phone.

“They’re coming, Poppy. Just hold on.”

“Clint…I…I love you.”

“Hey now, none of that. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?” His throat is tight, his stomach churning as he pets her head, wiping the blood onto his pants.

“Please..be happy. I want…want you to be..be happy.”

“I will be happy because you’ll be here with me.” He cradles her head in his lap, the tears falling harder and she reaches up, a wavering hand smeared with blood that she places on his cheek. Their eyes meet and in them he can see her resolve, her sorrow not for her own life but for him, for not being able to be here for him.

“Be happy, Clint. Have..have a good life. I can’t wait-” she gasps and closes her eyes for a moment before blinking them open and he can already see the glossiness in them. “-can’t wait to hear..all about it. I…I love you, Clint.”

He swallows hard. “I love you too, baby.”

She smiles, one last time before she slumps, the light in her eyes that hard brightened his life gone, snuffed out too soon. Clint wails, yells, screams, and sobs into the empty house, holding her close. The pain is too loud, too raw and real, threatening to overtake him. But then people are in their house, his house, trying to take her from him. He fights back, yelling and screaming they can’t take her from him, and then he feels a sting in his neck before the world blacks out around him.

It’s a bright and sunny day, the sky a vibrant shade of blue, and just the right amount of fluffy, white clouds in the sky. Poppy would call it the most perfect of days, warm but not too warm, the perfect day to spend outside.

Clint blinks in the sunlight as he watches them lower 2 caskets into the ground, one considerably smaller than the other, the priest saying some sort of prayer over them as the people gathered around shed their tears. Clint picks up a handful of dirt, holding it in his hand for a few moments while he stares down at the wooden boxes that contain his family, his future, all taken from him in the blink of a violent eye. He always thought he’d be the one to go out that way, in a bloody mess. But not them. They didn’t deserve this.

Clint tosses the dirt on the caskets and steps back, letting her parents toss handfuls on top as well, not really hearing them when they bring him in for a hug and mumble something about coming over for dinner. He doesn’t hear any of them as they file past him, patting his shoulder, telling him if he needs anything to just call. That they were all here for him. But what he needs the most, they can’t provide. No one can bring them back, bring her back.

Clint returns home, skipping the wake at her parents’ house for some quiet contemplation. The house is nearly silent, only the clock on the wall and the hum of the appliances make any sort of noise. Clint sits at the little table they had in the kitchen, staring down at the floor where he had held her for the last moments of her life.

He had cried so much since then, wailing and screaming at the world, begging whomever is listening to take him instead, that he would gladly switch places with them, give up his sorry life for them to have a chance. But of course, nothing happened besides his throat hurting, his eyes stinging from overuse.

But as he stares at the floor, depression and sorrow washing over him, a small thought ticks at the back of his head. He initially had thought it was a random break in, not all uncommon in Oakland. But when he had picked up the pieces of his broken life, he had noticed that nothing had been missing. All of Poppy’s jewelry, despite most of it being costume jewelry, was still there, so was the tv and pretty much everything else. It hadn’t clicked then, too preoccupied in his immediate grief to really think.

This wasn’t a random act of violence. This was targeted. This was specific. This was for him.

Clint hates himself anew, burying his face in his hands at the idea of him being the cause of their death. But then it hits him, washes over him and changes his purpose. Once it was to take care of her, of his family, but that had been ripped away and so had his future, his purpose.

Vengeance.

He had nothing left to lose. Nothing that anyone could possibly take from him. So why not go out in a blaze of violence, taking down everyone that was connected to his wife and child’s death.

Clint pushes his sorrow aside, locking it away gently as he gets to work locating those who would soon meet their day of judgement.

Several months later…

Clint sits in his truck, staring at the entrance to a seedy bar, watching a few wayward souls enter, one punching the other in the arm before the door closes behind them. He glances down at the paper in his hand, triple checking that he had the address right. He takes out a lighter and burns the paper, waiting until the last embers fade out before getting out of his truck and heading inside.

He sits at the bar and orders a drink, taking a few sips before flagging down the bartender again, asking him if he recognizes a few names. The bartender, a middle aged man with eyes that had seen war, stares at him for a few moments before nodding towards a corner, a small group of men standing around the pool table. Clint thanks the bartender, leaving a large tip on the counter before turning in his stool to watch the men. There were 4 of them and they were already towing the line between buzzed and drunk, slightly stumbling around before taking their shots.

Clint moves silently over, quietly sliding his blade into 2 of them, not waiting for their bodies to crumble to the floor before the other two even noticed he was there. One tried to swing at him, which he dodges easily, his blade quieting the man’s movements. The last guy, Rick, backed into a corner, desperately fumbling with something he had in the back of his pants, presumably a gun. Clint takes 2 large steps towards him, a second too late to see the man stop searching for the gun and grab a knife instead, swinging it wide and slicing into Clint’s side.

Clint stumbles, grunting for a moment before straightening up, dodging the man’s swings, ignoring the yelps from the other bar patrons as Rick swings wildly, knife cutting into the air just in front of Clint. He gets a few more blows in, pain searing into Clint before he grabs Rick’s wrist, turning it with a crack, Rick yelping in pain as his knife drops to the floor. Clint gets his knife to Rick’s side, pinning him against the wall.

“You killed my family.”

“Wh..what?”

Clint presses the knife a little harder and Rick grunts in pain. “You killed my family.”

“Look look look. I don’t know who you are, man!” Another small push and Rick yelps again. “Can you be more specific?”

Clint glares at him. “In my kitchen. Woman. Pregnant.”

The color seems to drain from the man’s face as he recognizes the situation. “Oh..oh..well, listen, we were just given’ the assignment, right? No hard feelings. We were just doing what we were told!”

“Who told you?”

“Ah, look man. I can’t just-” Clint pushes the knife further, feeling warmth start to seep out around the knife. “-ok ok! Fuck, stop! I’ll tell you!” He whispers a name to Clint, a name that sounded vaguely familiar. Frances Stokes. He thinks he’s worked with him before.

“Is that all?” Clint barks out.

Rick furiously nods his head. “Yes, yes!”

“Thanks.” Clint drives the knife further in and up, waiting for Rick to slump over. But when he turns around, the barrel of a gun is pointed at him, the bartender obviously nervous.

“Get out of here, man! Just go!”

Clint doesn’t need telling twice. He doubts anyone in here will say anything, each of them involved in their other dark dealings to be in a place like this. Clint makes it to the front door, stumbling out onto the sidewalk, his hand clutched to his side. He glances down at his hand, seeing the crimson shine in the street light. He glances up and for a moment is transported: a woman, the same hair as Poppy’s stares back at him, only a few feet away, eyes wide as she takes him in.

“Look out!” She yells at him, just in time for Clint to turn, stopping the man that had been running up behind him with a fist to his stomach. They both fall to the ground, rolling and punching before Clint gets on top, letting his fists fly as the guy’s head slams against the pavement. Clint shifts off of him, turning to see the woman still there, her hair like a shining beacon before he feels himself falling backwards, the blackness swallowing him.

Sunlight warms his face and for a moment, Clint feels transported. Like he was at home, safe in his bed with-

He blinks awake, reality slamming into him as he remembers punching the guy out before blacking out. His head feels like it’s splitting in 2, and his side hurts bad, like he had been stabbed - wait. He had been stabbed. He tries to sit up, groaning and laying back down when his head felt like it was splitting open.

“Hey, he lives! I wouldn’t sit up just yet.”

Clint blinks rapidly a few times, the disembodied voice trying to permeate its way into the meat that is his brain right now. But then a person moves into his vision and it all comes flooding back: the woman from outside the bar. The one with hair just like Poppy’s.

“Where..” Clint coughs, just realizing how dry his mouth is.

“Take it easy. I have some water here with a straw.” The woman grabs a cup off the side table and holds it next to him, pinching the straw inbetween her thumb and pointer finger so it stays in place. Clint debates for a moment on taking the drink from a stranger, but then again, if she had wanted to kill him, she’d have left him on that sidewalk. So he takes a few greedy sips before she pulls the straw from his mouth.

“Take it easy. Small sips.”

“Throat..dry.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve been out for 2 days. But you have to take small sips so you don’t overload your system.”

Clint nods and the straw returns. He does as she says and realizes she was right. She sets the cup back on the side table.

“Where am I?” Clint lets out a small cough.

“You’re at my apartment. I couldn’t just leave you there, not after you took care of that man.”

The man. Right. “He ok?”

“I shouldn’t have bothered checking him, not after he nearly attacked me, but I’m a nurse and I took an oath so,” She gestures vaguely around the room. “He died on the sidewalk.”

Well that’s one less thing he has to worry about. “You don’t seem shaken about that.”

Her eyes go somewhere else for a moment before she blinks. “I’m no stranger to death.”

Silence rules the room for several long moments.

“Are you hungry? I have some pain pills but we should get some food in you too. I also have some clean towels and clothes in the bathroom if you’d like to shower.”

“I think food sounds good.”

She nods and heads out of the room, distant sounds coming from the kitchen. Clint looks around the room. It was obviously her bedroom, sparsely decorated but a few photos of presumably family sit in frames on her dresser, as does an empty vase. She has a random poster on the wall, a movie poster for The Thing. The blanket he has is soft and light blue, but not frilly like he’d expect. But it is warm and comforting. She comes back in with a tray, a bowl of vegetable soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sitting on it, a glass of water off to the side. She places it on the dresser and walks to him.

“Let me help you sit up.”

“Oh, I don’t want to mess your sheets up.”

She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can always get new sheets.”

She helps him sit up, Clint holding his head for several moments before the searing pain abates. She puts the tray over his lap, tapping on the tray next to 2 small pills. “Make sure to take those now and eat some food after. I’ll let you eat.”

Clint reaches for the pills. “Thanks, Flo.”

She cocks her head and looks at him. “Flo?”

Clint pops the pills in his mouth, taking a few more sips of water to swallow them with, hoping they act fast. “Yeah. Like Florence Nightingale. The nurse?”

She smiles and tells him her name. “But Flo. I like it.”

That night, Flo insists he takes her bed again, that he needs the space to recover. He tries to argue but she’ll have none of it, promptly telling him goodnight and to yell if he needs anything before closing the door most of the way.

The pain in his side keeps him from getting a good sleep, pain throbbing out from the wound Flo had stitched up. He didn’t want to bother her, he could just grunt through it, but then she was there, softly pushing the door open and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Fuck, didn’t mean to wake you, Flo.”

She yawns and stretches, her sleep shirt lifting a little and exposing a sliver of skin. “You didn’t. I have to get up for work anyway. But I can see you’re in pain. The meds not working?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“That happens sometimes when you gain consciousness. Give me a minute.” She disappears into the other room and returns a few minutes later, some scrubs tossed quickly on. She has a small pill bottle in her hand and she shakes one out, handing it to Clint.

“You can have one of these now but not another until I get home, ok? It’s pretty strong so don’t go mixing it with alcohol or anything.”

Clint nods. “Got it.” He pops the pill and swallows it, thanking Flo as she sets down some food next to him.

“I’m going to be home this evening, but if you need me, here’s my work number. Just ask for me.” She sets a piece of paper down next to the phone on the nightstand. She pauses for a moment and looks at him. “I’ll uh..see you tonight.”

The meds kick in when she leaves and mercifully, they knock him out, Clint finally able to get the sleep his body desperately needed.

Fuck, getting injured at his age was not fun. Stabbings hurt a lot more than they used to. When Flo gets home she brings him more food, then has him take another pain pill. He passes out again, his dreams carrying him to dark places with familiar violent themes. He thrashes about, trying to rid himself of the images, and is yanked from his nightmare by a hand squeezing his shoulder. Clint’s eyes fly open and Poppy is standing there, her hair framing her face. He reaches out to touch her cheek, his fingers barely touching her soft skin.

“Poppy?”

She’s saying something that he can’t make out, so he shakes his head and blinks a few times. But when he opens them, he sees Flo standing there, worry etched in her features.

“Clint! Are you with me?”

He puts his hand to his head and nods. “I…I think so.”

She puts her hand on his chest, trying to help him slow his breathing. “Are you ok? You were making a lot of noise.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Are you ok?”

He takes a moment, his head still foggy. “I…will be. I think.”

She stands there for another moment. “Who’s Poppy?”

Clint's eyes harden as he glares at her. “What did you say?”

Flo pulls her hand back, regret in her eyes. “Poppy. You were calling her name. Is it someone I can call for-”

“NO! Don’t ever say that name again! Get out!”

Flo nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Tears immediately fall down his cheeks and he buries his face in the pillow, remembering the first and last time he’d seen Poppy.

It was nearly a week before he could tolerate not being on those heavy pain meds. Basic ones now worked just as well and his head started to clear. He was having flashes of memories from the week but nothing concrete. He did feel like he needed to apologize to Flo but for what, he couldn’t clearly remember.

Clint walks to the kitchen, the movement feeling good. He puts together a dinner of sorts, random things he can find in Flo’s fridge that seems to just have ingredients, nothing premade. He just sits on the couch, taking a bite of a sandwich when the front door opens and Flo walks in, gently shaking out her coat before hanging it on the hook.

“Raining?” Clint asks, his mouth still full of sandwich.

“Oh, hey! Yeah. Not so bad here but it was pouring by the hospital.” She moves around to sit next to him on the couch, her eyes studying him. “How are you feeling?”

“So much better. I really can’t thank you enough.”

She glances down at his plate with his small sandwich. “Why don’t I whip us up something warm? Just give me a few minutes to wash off the day.”

“Oh you don’t-”

“I have to eat too. I’ll just make more.”

She made something called pesto pasta, which Clint had never heard of before. It was different but he would eat it again for sure. They watched some game show and then the news before Flo was yawning.

“You want to take your bed back tonight?”

“No, that’s ok. You take it. I’ve got my own little nest going out here.”

Clint chuckles. “If you’re sure.”

He gets ready for bed and sits down to get comfortable. It was then he noticed that he had left his medicine in the living room. Before he could do anything, there was a soft knock at the door and Flo comes in carrying the pain meds.

“You forgot these. Figured you’d want them.”

“Thanks.” Clint takes the bottles and pops them open, swallowing the pills with the glass of water on the nightstand. Flo turns to leave but Clint stops her.

“Wait. Can I ask you something?”

Flo turns around to look at him. “Sure.”

“Did I…did I do or say anything to you when I was on those big meds?”

Her face hardens slightly. “Nothing I’m not used to. It’s ok.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. What did I say?”

“It’s ok, really. I’ve had worse.”

“It’s not ok to me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Flo, please. Tell me.”

She hesitates a moment, her eyes bouncing between his before she sits on the bed.

“You were making a lot of noise one night and I came in to check on you. Your eyes opened but I don’t think you were really seeing things. You kept calling me Poppy. And when I asked who she was, you flipped out.”

Clint’s jaw tightens as the memory floods back. Her hair. That’s what made him think…

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me, Clint. I just wanted to know if I needed to call someone-”

“Poppy…was my wife.”

“Oh.”

Silence stretches on for several seconds before Clint swallows hard, continuing.

“She was…the love of my life. Made me a better man. Great woman. We got married…got pregnant. And then…” Clint clears his throat, blinking back tears, Flo waiting patiently, letting him take his time.

“I came home one day and they were…I held her while she…died.” He whispers the last word, but it’s like he yelled it, screamed it. He’d never talked about it with anyone, not even Poppy’s parents.

Flo puts her hand on his and squeezes. “I’m so sorry, Clint.” He just nods, trying not to lose his shit in front of her.

“You have her hair. It’s almost exactly like hers. So I guess I saw it and mixed with the meds, I thought…you were her.”

Flo nods, squeezing his hand a little harder. “I understand.”

Clint looks at her, his eyes hardening slightly. “How would you understand? How would you know what it’s like?”

She takes a deep breath before puffing it out. “I was engaged once. High school sweethearts. We were waiting to get married until we were out of school. Anyway, he was taking night classes and one night, this other guy decided it would be super fun to get drunk and drive….I lost my future that night. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Fuck. So she did know exactly how it feels.

“You remind me of him sometimes.” She says it so quietly Clint almost misses it.

“I do?”

“Yeah. It’s not…it’s in your small movements, the way the light hits your hair sometimes. So..I get it. Honestly, it’s just nice having someone else here. Someone who gets it.”

“Yeah. It is.” Clint squeezes her hand back and she looks at him, her eyes big in the lamp light, the glow bouncing off her hair and looking just like Poppy’s.

Their hands stay intertwined for several long moments, Clint rubbing his thumb gently over the back of her hand. She scoots a little closer to him, her hand gently sliding up his arm. Clint’s breath picks up as her hand cups his cheek and they lock eyes, both silently asking the other if this was ok. Clint hesitates for a moment before slowly lowering his head to hers, their lips gently touching. Flo’s lips are soft and a little more plush than Poppy’s, but her tongue timidly brushing against his lips is all the permission he needs.

His hand slides to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulls her close, his tongue dancing with hers. She moans softly, clutching at his shirt and he feels his pants growing tighter. Flo pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against his.

“Bedroom. Nurse’s orders.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Flo takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom, the door closing behind them. For a moment they stare at each other, another moment of confirmation before she starts to pull her shirt off, the rest of her clothes following. Clint matches her actions, his own clothes falling into a pile on the floor. His eyes roam over her body before stepping forward, pulling her face to his again. Her fingers glide up the sides of his body, her warmth pressing into him and it all feels so intense, but not bad. He walks her backwards, her legs hitting the bed and she breaks the kiss to climb up it, Clint crawling over her, Flo’s legs opening to give him space. Her hands lightly squeeze his biceps, which feels nice but then the light from outside hits her hair a certain way and for a moment he’s transported, sees Poppy.

His hips push against hers as his hand grips her hair, her heat enveloping him as she moans, her legs wrapping around him. He blinks and it’s Flo again, but as he works his hips against hers, the light catches every now and then in her hair, he gets flashes of Poppy.

Fuck, this feels good. It had been so long since he’d held someone, felt them touch him like this. He had been alone for too long, not letting himself live fully. He felt guilty, even with Poppy telling him to live his life. His eyes find Flo’s and he can tell she goes somewhere else occasionally too, his guilt slightly lessening at the thought he’s bringing her some comfort like she is him.

He can feel himself getting closer to the edge. He licks his fingers and snakes them between their bodies, teasing her between her legs. He can feel her starting to squirm, her breaths starting to pick up. Clint grabs her hand with his free one, lacing their fingers together as he pushes her hand into the mattress slightly above her head. Her fingers dig into his skin but the second she tightens around him he comes, burying his face in her hair.

When he rolls off of her, Clint pulls her to him, feeling her nuzzle further into his chest before falling asleep. He stays awake a little longer, gently tracing shapes on her back as he thinks.

In the morning, just before the sun rises, he gets dressed, gathering up the handful of personal items he had. He hesitates briefly, staring down Flo as she sleeps. He presses a kiss to her head, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him before he steps out into the morning light, back into his life of violence.

A Few Months Later…

“You thought you could just kill my family and nothing would happen?” Clint twists the knife he had in the man’s leg, smirking when he screams out in pain.

“N..no!”

“Then why did you come for them?” Clint taps the knife and the man whimpers.

“I wasn’t…we weren’t going to.” Tears were streaming down the man’s face, fear at seeing the end of his life.

“But then you decided to try and find me? Why?”

The man takes a shuddering breath. “Will you not kill me if I tell you?”

Clint grips the knife and the man cries out. “How about I’ll kill you if you don’t?”

“OK! OK!” He takes another breath, inhaling sharply through his nose. “We weren’t trying to seek revenge. But then one day, we get invited to this house and get handed everything on you. Who you are, where you live, all of it.”

Clint cocks his head. “Who gave it to you? Why?”

“They..they said they would give us a chance at revenge. Only if we promise to…to take you out.”

“Take me out. Why did you kill my wife?”

The man blinks, swallowing hard. “We were told to since she was…since your line would be carried on.”

Clint had to take several deep breaths so he didn’t turn this man inside out. He still needed one more piece of information. Someone had betrayed him, and he had a strong feeling he knew who. He swallows down his rage and looks the man in his eyes.

“Who?” He grunts it through gritted teeth and the man shivers.

“He’ll kill me.”

Clint twists the knife hard and the man screams, jerking around against his restraints. “Who?”

The man seems to rethink his situation. “The….The Guy.”

That was the answer Clint was hoping not to hear but had a suspicion he would. It was the only thing that made sense. The Guy didn’t want him to quit, his best hitman. He knew the only way Clint would come back would be to have someone take away his new life. And The Guy made sure of that.

Before the man could beg, Clint yanked the knife from his leg and slit his throat, waiting until the gurgling and sputtering stopped, his body still before he sighs, getting to work on cleaning up the mess. But his mind was elsewhere, planning and plotting. Which is why he didn’t hear another man coming up behind him until it was too late, his body falling sideways and slamming into the ground.

The man gets on top of him, pulling out a knife. Clint dodges as best he can, but he does get a good knick on his shoulder. Grunting, Clint throws his body weight and the man, a lot skinnier than him, gets thrown off balance. Clint pushes up and manages to flip them, gripping the man’s wrist and slamming it against the floor, the knife clattering across the ground. No weapon in hand, Clint reaches for the man’s head, but his shoulder sends searing pain down his arm. He must have dislocated it when he hit the ground. Instead, Clint grabs the man’s hair, slamming his head into the ground until he stops moving. He gets off the man and sits for a moment to catch his breath, his shoulder throbbing.

Well this will make cleaning up suck.

He can’t go to the hospital, but he knows he needs stitches. He can’t do it himself because of his fucking shoulder, which is just violently throbbing at this point. He knows where he can go, but should he? Finally, he gives in, knowing he has no other option. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Flo, he does. He really does. But that’s the exact reason he shouldn’t go. He doesn’t need to bring his shit to her.

He sighs, knocking on her door. It takes a moment but the door opens and there she is, almost glowing, just gorgeous. And for a moment, he’d forgotten why he was there.

“Oh! You’re bleeding!” Flo takes his hand but he jerks it back.

“Shoulder is dislocated.”

“You’re just all kinds of fun. Come on in.”

Clint heads inside, kicking off his boots before following Flo into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair from the table and motions for him to sit down as she goes to get her med kit. She returns a moment later and sets it on the table, moving to stand next to him.

“I take it you’ve had a dislocated shoulder before?”

Clint looks up, her eyes big and round and he momentarily wonders why he had left. He nods, preparing himself while she gets into position, gripping him.

“Ready?”

“Just do it.”

Flo nods, looking down at his arm. “1…2…I’m pregnant.”

“What?! FUCK!” His arm pops back into place, the initial sharp pain quieting down to a dull ache. Flo hands him some pain meds and a glass of water but he pushes them away.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Take these. You’ll need them. I’ll also sling your arm.”

“Fuck the sling. Flo, you’re…you’re pregnant?”

She takes the sling off the table, not meeting his eyes yet. She helps him get situated in the sling and reaches for the alcohol to start dabbing at his other arm. Clint had completely forgotten about the knife gash. But before she starts, he grabs her wrist, giving it a little shake so she’ll look at him. She sighs and meets his gaze, worry etched in her face.

“I..am.”

“Who…am…am I…”

“I’ve only been with you since the accident.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t mean to get her pregnant. Fuck, this is not what either of them need. It’s not that he doesn’t want the kid. He would love to be a dad, was going to be a dad before…fuck. He has to kill The Guy or he’d find them and kill them too. FUCK. He has to protect them. Clint is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even feel it when Flo starts to sew his wound, tying it off and putting a bandaid over it.

“You should be all set. Just try not to fuck with that shoulder too much.”

Clint’s mind clears and he focuses on the main objective: to keep Flo and his unborn child safe. He can’t let them die for him, for his mistakes. He will never let that happen again, even if it kills him.

“I’ve gotta go.” Clint abruptly stands and pushes past a bewildered Flo, grabbing his keys and closing the door gently behind him. It never occurs to him to say anything to Flo. She doesn’t need to know about this. About any of it. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the sobs coming from inside the home as he walks away from it.

It takes him another month to locate The Guy’s new hiding place. He imagines it would be difficult for anyone to find - anyone who doesn’t know The Guy like he does. Clint watches from his steakout point, his eyes hardening and his brain sliding into his job mode, compartmentalizing what he needs to do to protect his family. What he should’ve done before.

The bodyguards at the door hesitate when Clint walks towards them, but soon they are silenced, slumping to the ground before they even had time to draw their guns. Quietly, Clint moves inside, making his way down the hall, silencing another several guards. The Guy really needed to hire better employees. He pauses outside of what looks like a main door, listening. From inside, he hears a familiar voice, a voice that has commanded him to do so many violent things for him.

“I don’t care what it takes, I want it done!” A phone slams down, The Guy sighs. “I swear, it’s so hard to find good help these days.”

Clint listens for a few minutes, hearing no other movement behind the door aside from The Guy, assuming he was alone in his office. Clint takes a deep breath and stands straight, holding his gun at the ready before pushing in the door and aiming his gun directly at The Guy. When Clint enters, The Guy glances up, all color draining from his face. He was totally alone and he knew from looking at Clint that the cat was out of the bag.

“H-hey Clint. How’s retired life?”

“Why?”

Beads of sweat start to drip down The Guy’s temples. “Why what?”

“Why did you kill them?”

He seems to debate for a moment, settling on the truth instead of pretending he didn’t know. “Look man, good workers are hard to find. And you were the best. You did everything for me and so when you wanted to leave….well, you knew too much.”

“So you took out my family?”

The Guy shrugs. “I figured maybe you’d come back if you had nothing left. Besides, I couldn’t have you continuing your line if they’d go to work for someone-”

POP!

Clint fires his gun, hitting The Guy directly in the forehead, his body crumbling to the ground. He listens for a moment, but no one comes running. No one else is here. Clint lowers his gun, dropping to his knees and buries his face in his hands, wailing and screaming, as he gets closure on the last chapter of his life.

Clint stands in front of Flo’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking. He had been sitting in front of her apartment for another 2 weeks, making sure no one was casing the joint. But no one would - Clint had taken out the remainder of The Guy’s associates. No one would be coming for them.

The door opens and Flo stands before him looking absolutely breath taking. Her eyes widen and her mouth nearly drops on the floor.

“Clint?” She whispers it, hesitating for a moment before reaching her hand out.

“It’s me.”

SLAP!

Clint rubs at his cheek, chuckling a little to himself at the assault. He deserved that. He deserved more than that.

“What the fuck Clint? I tell you I’m pregnant with your baby and you just leave? Not even a word?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Flo. But I had to…had to make sure you were safe.”

“I don’t expect you to be involved, but you could’ve- safe?”

He nods. ”Can I come in?”

She studies him, her eyes somehow seeing through him and she nods, opening the door. “Lock it behind you.”

This time, he decides to tell her everything, about his past life, about what happened to Poppy, what he’d done now to protect them. How he couldn’t let it happen again, not when he has the chance to have a family again. To his surprise, when he was done, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, holding him tight. He hugs her back, swallowing down some tears and melting into her embrace. It’s several long moments before she pulls back, cupping his face with her soft, warm hands.

“It’s not your fault, Clint.”

He looks down, shrugs a little. “But-”

“You can’t control what other’s do. Poppy knew that. Why do you think her last words were of love and not revenge? She doesn’t blame you, Clint. She would want you to be happy. So, be happy. Even if…even if that’s not with us.”

His eyes snap to hers and he’s surprised to find tears there. “Do you want me to leave? I understand if you-”

“No!” She grips his face a little tighter. “No. I want you here, but I need all of you here. We need it. But if you can’t, I understand.”

“You…you want me? Even though I’ve…I’m a violent…”

She cuts him off by pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Look, I knew you were in some shit when we met. I’m not stupid. You came tumbling out of that bar stabbed and then tussled with another guy. I had to patch you up and you bled all over my floor. I figured you were in some shit. This is Oakland. But..you were also gentle with me and patient, even when I told you about my past and I thought…we had that moment and I know we were both a little in our heads during it, but it was..fuck, it was nice having someone, especially someone who..gets it. I like you, Clint. I don’t expect you to like me in the same way, but however you want to be involved in our lives, that’s fine with me.”

How the fuck did he lead such a violent and fucked up life, all the shit he’s done, and he managed to find not one but two amazing women who just cared for him despite it? Poppy never knew exactly what he did, but Clint always suspected she knew he wasn’t really a delivery driver. She just never pressed. Just carried on loving him.

Clint reaches forward, cupping her face in his hand this time. “I want to be involved with the baby. And I’d…I’d like to see where this goes,” he gestures between them and she smiles, realizing his intent.

“Really?”

“Really. But know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for both of you.”

Clint and Flo dated for a month or so before they decided it was easier to just move in together. They found a little place for their growing family, a little 2 bedroom place in a better area of town. Clint had had some extra money after taking out The Guy (and raiding his safe) and happily moved them all in. Clint is there for every weird craving, anytime she wanted something at 3am, foot massages, all of it. He loved being there for her, talking to her belly, but also being with her. Flo was the first person to help him realize that he still deserved love. And even if he didn’t believe it, he knew that Flo deserved it and he would spend the rest of his time making sure she had it.

Their son Christopher came screaming into the world right on time. They got him cleaned up, wrapped in blankets and a little tiny hat and handed him to Clint. He gently takes Christopher in his arms, walking over to Flo who was still laying on the bed. Tears well in his eyes as he stares down at his son, Flo leaning her head on his arm and he sighs, happy that he’s finally getting the life he wanted.

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fandoms-writings · 8 months

Note

How about Vampire!Bucky with “Keep your pretty eyes on me.” and “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”?

But like, the classic vampires of Anne Rice, not the sparkly bastards from twilight? Perhaps soft!dark too?

Love Bites

Pairing: Dark!Vampire!Bucky x Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.4K (i just can't not write long fics)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HEAVY DUBCON , smut, p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), blood, vampire feeding, it's kinda dark tbh, use of mind control (if i miss any please let me know so i can add it <;3)

A/N: I hope you enjoy love! this was tons of fun to write <3 thank you big time to @aquariusbarnes for beta reading for me! all mistakes are my own though.

Masterpost || Bucky Masterlist

You sniffled as you walked, watching the stone of the old road pass under your feet. You wished you could appreciate the history of the place, really take it in like you wanted to. You wished you could enjoy this trip like you intended to. You worked so hard to get the time off, to pay for it. It was your anniversary trip, you were supposed to be having fun.

This was anything but. You'd gone to the bar with John, your piece of shit husband, and he'd excused himself to the bathroom, but when you noticed he'd been gone awhile, you went looking for him. Just to find the bathroom door locked, moans flowing out from the crack at the bottom. The bar had a strict 'no sex in the bathroom' rule, so the bouncer kicked in the door, and there was John, balls deep in a girl you recognized from the booth next to the one you'd been waiting at.

You'd removed your ring, threw it on the ground, and stormed out, which was a shame. You loved that ring, the ruby was just gorgeous in it. But John hadn't even chased after you, it was like he was a different person.

You thought about the way he looked at you when the bouncer kicked in the door. His pupils were blown wide and it was like he wasn't even there anymore. You did take notice of the white dust around the edge of his nose though, so maybe he wasn't there. But that's no excuse, especially because you'd never even seen him do drugs.

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself," said a voice from behind you. It was low and soft, smooth like honey. You turned around, wiping the tears from your face before looking at your observer. "It's dangerous at night."

You gave him a tight lipped smile, "Thanks for the warning." He stepped out from the shadow, and you couldn't help the nerves that lit on fire in your belly. He was tall, built but not too muscular, his hair was cropped short, almost like a military cut. His sharp jaw was clean shaven, and he had gentle blue eyes.

"You alright?" He asked, gesturing to your disheveled state. You sighed, pursing your lips for a moment debating on if you should really tell a stranger your life, but you'd probably never see him again, so what's the harm?

"I'm supposed to be here on my anniversary trip," You muttered, "but I found him cheating not even two days into our trip, so. . ." You crossed your arms, shrinking in on yourself as he approached you.

"Well, he sounds like an idiot," He said, stopping in front of you, "He'd have to be a moron to be able to even take his eyes off of you." He held his hand out, "I'm Bucky."

You introduced yourself, placing your hand in his and let out a small gasp when he raised your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, even if it was something terrible that brought you out this way." He smiled, releasing your hand. "Can I walk with you? Just make sure you get to wherever you're going safely, if nothing else."

You hesitated. This was a stranger, in an unfamiliar city, asking to walk with you to where you were staying. It sounded like a terrible disaster just waiting to happen. You shouldn't let him come with you to the hotel.

Before you could process what was happening, you heard your voice agree, telling him he could join you, but you didn't remember giving your mouth permission to say those things.

He fell into step beside you, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets, only bumping your elbow with his if he was trying to show you something. He told you about the city as you walked, distracting you from the events of earlier. He stopped at an old ice cream place, buying you a small cup of your favorite flavor, and taking you to a small park bench where he sat with you while you ate.

"Thank you," You said when you finished your cup. He took it and threw it away before coming back and sitting next to you. "You really don't have to stick with me all night. I'm sure you have places to be."

"This is the only place I want to be right now," He looked over at you with a small smile.

"With a stranger?" You ask, wrapping your arms around yourself. The ice cream was good, but that mixed with the small night breeze, you can't stop the chills running up your spine. Bucky took notice and stood, pulling his sweater off and offering it to you as he sat back down.

"I'd say you're just a little more than a stranger now," He chuckled.

"I guess you're right," You smiled.

"Are you planning on going back to your hotel?" He asked, "Would your husband be there?"

Fuck, he's right. Your smile falls as you think about it. Where else would John go except back to the hotel? You didn't want to stay there if he was going to be there. He had a key so he could be there already, and you weren't ready for that. You didn't want to face him right now.

You hang your head with a sigh, the tears beginning to well in your eyes again. "I don't know. I don't want to see him, but I have nowhere else to go. And neither does he, so he would definitely be there." You wiped at your face with your hands and let out a groan.

Bucky didn't respond immediately, but when you looked over at him to apologize for all the drama going on in your life, he looked like he was debating on telling you something.

"What is it?" You prompted, watching as he sighed.

"I know you just met me," he started, "and by no means do you have to accept, but I have a spare room that you are more than welcome to stay in. At least for the night, and then in the morning you can sort your hotel stuff out and go stay wherever you want."

You went to decline, this wasn't something you would accept from a stranger for multiple reasons. You didn't know him that well, you didn't want to impose, and he could be dangerous. But it was like when he asked to walk with you earlier - it felt like your body had a mind of its own as you heard yourself agreeing to stay with him, and before you knew it, you were following him to a lavish apartment building in the middle of the city.

"You live here?" You asked as you eyed the building in wonder, the towering skyrise seemingly reaching into the heavens.

"I do," He smirked down at you as he held the door open for you, leading the way to the elevator. You watched as he pressed the very top floor button.

"Top floor, huh?"

"Best view of the city, you'll see," He smiled down at you before looking forward again. You eyed him a bit - you could've swore you saw a hint of a different color in his eyes, but you couldn't get another good look to confirm.

The elevator stopped and you pulled the sweater tighter around you, nerves beginning to set you more on edge then before as you waited for the doors to open.

The doors opened, and he was right, the view was spectacular.

The place was lined with floor to ceiling windows where you could see the expanse of almost the entire city below you. There were only a few lights on here and there, the place mostly lit up by the moon right out the windows.

His decor screamed money in a dark modern luxury type of way. The furniture was all dark wood with even darker cushions. You kept him in your peripheral as you walked around the room. If you had to guess, he was probably working for the mafia, or he was a CEO of some huge company you'd never heard of. No one his age could afford this place without being famous for something.

"You want anything to drink? Or eat?" He asked as he led the way to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went.

"Just some water would be lovely," You said, following a bit behind him. Something about this place made you uneasy, you weren't sure what it was - if it was him, or how high up you were, or the fact that for some reason you had agreed to this - but you were attempting to keep your distance just in case.

You watched as he filled your glass and slid it across the counter in front of you, adding nothing strange to your drink in the process.

That's good at least, you thought. He started talking about where the shower was, where you could find towels, and that he'd get you a spare change of clothes so you didn't have to smell like the bar anymore. You took him up on the offer, grabbing everything you needed before locking yourself in the grand guest bathroom.

~~~

"This is the guest room, and I'm down the hall," Bucky stated as you followed him through the hall. You noticed none of the bedrooms had windows and you thought it was odd, but at least the sun wouldn't wake you the second it rose.

"Thank you, for letting me stay," You said, fiddling with the edge of the shirt he gave you, your legs warmed by the fleece pants. "I really appreciate it. I owe you."

"Of course," He smiled down at you. "You don't owe me anything," he reached forward, picking a piece of lint from your shoulder, "all I want to do is help you forget about your husband."

Your brows scrunched together, "What?"

"After the night you've had, don't you think you deserve to have some fun?" He suggested, reaching to cup your cheek. His hand was oddly cold, but you did just take a hot shower so you didn't think too much about it. "Say the word, and I'll make you forget about your moron of a husband. Or I'll leave you to your room."

It was like all the air was sucked out of your lungs as you stared up at him. He wore this look of sincerity and. . . hunger? How long had it been since you'd been on the receiving end of that stare? John hadn't really cared the past few months, you'd hoped this trip would spark something in him again. He'd run off with some woman from the bar, not even 50 feet from you, so what harm would sleeping with Bucky do?

He'd been nothing but nice to you, catering really. He'd taken care of you, though you did have those two moments where your body betrayed you in favor of his wishes. But, maybe that was your body telling you something. If anything, you'd just slip out in the morning the second the sun came up.

Reaching up to grab his hand, you nodded, "Make me forget about him." You whispered it, but the second it left your lips, his eyes darkened, darker than you've ever seen anyone's eyes go.

He nodded, moving to lace your fingers with his as he led you down the hall to the master bedroom. It was just as lavish as the rest of the apartment, maybe even more so. The bed was massive, lined with a deep rich red comforter and sheets that looked as soft as clouds. He pulled you to the edge of it before cupping your cheeks, pulling you in till you were just a breath away.

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking to you for confirmation before he moved.

"Yes," You muttered, gasping when his lips met yours. It was slow at first, the way his lips moved with yours, like he was learning how you kissed, how you liked to be kissed, before he deepened it. His tongue slipped past your lips, taking a quick taste at your mouth before retreating, like he was asking for permission - permission which you granted.

He tasted the entirety of your mouth as he hands moved under the shirt to paw at your skin, gripping and pulling you flush against him as he groaned into your mouth. He guided you towards the bed, pulling away to let you lay across the comforter, which was as soft as you imagined.

Laying himself above you, he slotted his knee between your legs, pushing his thigh into your warm core, smirking at the small whine you let out as your hips grinded down on his thigh. "Eager are you?" He mumbled against your lips, "Did your lousy husband never satisfy you?"

"He used to, but not lately," it ignited a bit of shame, admitting how unfulfilled you were in your marriage, but all Bucky did was smile as his hands moved to the waistband of your pants.

"I'll fix that," he pulled your pants gently down your legs, admiring your skin as he went. "Don't you worry." He winked at you before grabbing one of your legs and starting a trail of wet kisses up from your ankle. Suddenly, it was like all of your nerves fizzled out. You were almost completely comfortable laying there, like you belonged.

He ran his nose up your calf and your thigh, stopping at your hip to place another wet kiss, sucking a bit on your skin and sending shivers of excitement up your spine. Pushing the shirt up over your chest, he followed it with his lips and his tongue, inhaling your skin, savoring it as long as he could. You'd never had someone be so attentive, so infatuated with you that they took their time like this. He helped you out of the shirt before settling between your thighs.

"I've barely even started and you're already dripping," He slowly said, his voice starting the butterflies in your stomach. He leaned down, placing a gentle peck to your clit, smirking when your hips jolted, trying to get more pressure. "You are eager."

"Please," You whispered, watching with half lidded eyes, "please, Bucky."

"Mm," he hummed, reaching up to grab your breast, gently tugging on your hardened nipple, "only because you asked so sweetly."

He flattened his tongue along your folds before dragging it up and circling his lips around your clit, groaning into you when you let out a wanton moan. Your hands dove down, trying to grip his short cropped hair, tugging him closer with what you could grab, settling for just gripping his head.

He ate you like he'd done this a thousand times before. He knew exactly when to speed up, and when to slow to keep you teetering on the edge, the band that quickly grew in your stomach just ready to snap.

He pulled his tongue off of you, cooing at you when you whined at the loss, trying to pull him back. He pulled his hand from your breast, using his thumb to circle your clit, pushing on it every so slightly.

"Now," He started, his voice raspy as he sunk a finger into your cunt, "I need just one thing from you, before I give you what you want - what you need."

You looked down at him, swallowing the sudden nerves in your throat as you nodded.

He smirked, his eyes going red, "I need you to stay still, and keep your pretty eyes on me."

Your body froze and your eyes went wide. His suddenly red eyes sent a spark of fear through you, but your body wouldn't move out from under him, no matter how much you tried. It was just like before, where your body followed his exact commands.

"Good girl," He growled as he curled his finger, brushing at that spongy spot, "I'll only take a little, I promise." His mouth opened in a hungry pant and you watched as his canines lengthened themselves into points.

You wanted to run, to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but your body wouldn't move. He pulled at the skin of your thigh before gently sinking his fangs into you, the sharp pain only lasting a second before it went numb. You could feel him lapping at your skin, the blood flowing into his mouth.

He looked up at you for a split second before his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned, the vibration running through your muscles. You shouldn't be turned on by this, you know you shouldn't, but the way he looked at you after, like you hung the sky itself, it was intoxicating.

He pulled away gently, licking up the bit that escaped his lips before turning his attention back to you. "You taste even better than you smell." He wiped at the corner of his mouth with his free hand, licking the blood off of it before climbing up your body, curling his fingers again.

"Now," He said, pulling his finger free from your pussy's grip on it, and pulling his cock free from his trousers, "Your turn."

He lined himself up with your entrance after coating himself in your slick, and pushed in slowly to the hilt, filling you in a way you never knew before. He groaned once he was seated all the way in and he reached to grab your legs, holding them as he slowly started to rock into you.

"I've been watching you since you got here," He stated, relishing in the tears that were starting in your eyes, "Your dumbass of a husband following you like a bored teenage boy. You deserve better. Then," He slammed his hips into yours, closing his eyes at the feeling of being so deep in you, "then I got a whiff of you, of your blood when you got that paper cut opening the welcoming card from your hotel. I knew I had to have you."

He dropped one of your legs, placing his hand over your stomach, pushing down on the bulge he was creating with every thrust, the band in your stomach starting to grow tight again. "It was easy, getting him to listen to me. I found him in the bathroom, told him to fuck the girl who was gonna join him, and sent her in there." He smiled deviously down at you, an eerie hint of obsession tinting his eyes.

"Then it was just a matter of waiting till you were far enough away from him that I could approach you," He leaned down till his nose was brushing against yours, "And fuck you're perfect. Make some noise for me, will you baby?"

A loud moan tore itself from your throat and you couldn't stop the series of curses that left your lips as he sped up his hips, slamming into you, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over, quickly bringing you over the edge. But he stopped before you could topple over, and he gripped your cheeks, making you look at him again.

"You'll forget about him," he ordered, "you belong to me, now."

You couldn't remember who he was talking about, or what had happened. All you knew was that you were his, and he was yours. And he was fucking you so good.

"That's it," He smiled when he noticed that familiar look in your eyes. His hand left your face, and his thumb circled your clit as he pounded into you again, tossing you quickly over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, your walls gripping him as he kept pumping in and out of you, quickly pushing you towards another one.

The second one took you just a fast, your blood roaring in your ears. The smell of your blood rushing through your veins pushed him to his climax and you watched his hips stutter before painting your walls with his spend.

"That's my girl," He panted. Once you caught your breath, he smiled down at you, "I have something for you."

You smiled, "For me?"

He reached for his pants without pulling out of you, and his hand dove into the pocket, pulling out a gorgeous ring. It had a silver band, with a ruby surrounded by small square cut diamonds.

"Bucky," You gasped, "That's gorgeous, but why?"

"My girl deserves pretty things, don't you think?" He slid it over your finger, smirking as it fit perfectly. "Look, it's like it was made for you."

You smiled bright up at him with a laugh. "It's perfect," you muttered before reaching up to pull him down to you, slotting your lips over his, "Thank you."

"Anything for my girl."

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