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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

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you say the word, im on the way | e. yeager

♤ tags ;; fem!reader, cheating (on reader but not by eren), exes to lover, past toxic relationships, arguing and insults, very emotionally charged sex, co-dependency (in a way), childhood friends to lovers, streamer!eren (BARELY mentioned), make-up sex, oral (f!recieving),, unprotected sex, so much dirty talk, praise kink, petnames angel, baby, pretty girl, eren kinda.. talks to ur pussy djhsdj, 18+

♤ wc ;; 10.2k (utter agony)

♤ a/n ;; i really like. this isn't the best. but that's fine i had a lot of fun alr. very self indulgent. title from teenage fever by drake.

♤ synposis ;; after your boyfriend cheats on you, your ex, eren, shows up for you against all odds. you give into him against your best interest.

You wait for him on the side of the road.

The rain is coming down in heavy sheets. You’re soaked to the bone having left in a hurry with only a single suitcase of your things. Your phones nearly dead, less than 20 percent with an ever-depleting battery. The closest place to charge your phone is too long to walk in this weather. And it’s so late the buses have stopped running.

Even if you could leave, it’s dark and dangerous. Your heart is in your throat, and the only streetlight is so far it hardly makes you feel any safer. You don’t know a single person in your ex-boyfriend's hometown other than his parents, but you aren’t sure you can face them right now if you wanted to.

It’s not like you wanted to call Eren. Or for him to see you as sorry as you are. Dehydrated, exhausted, emotionally battered - you don’t even like seeing Eren when you’re at your best. You’re sure as soon as you get into his car, he’ll start arguing with you. You’ve spent the last 15 minutes mentally readying yourself for his harsh comments whatever they may be.

You don’t have the luxury of being picky. He’s safer than venturing by yourself or taking an Uber. And he owes you one, anyway. Nows a good of a time as any to take him up on that.

Relief fills your whole body when you see a car pull up onto the side of the road. It’s an all-black sports car. Typically Eren, it sticks out sorely from all the other cars that have passed by. Wiping your eyes, you clear your vision to see Eren inside. He’s wearing a black cap and mask.

Your feet sink in the mud as you walk up to the car, but he beats you to the punch. Approaching you in the dead of night with a sort of anger you can feel before you even look at his face. He has a jacket with him made of that thin plastic material.

Before you open your mouth, he’s pulling the poncho over your head. He puts your arms through before he drags you by the wrist to his car. Hurriedly, you grab your suitcase and track it through the mud while you follow. Your voice is too hoarse to protest him, but you shout over the rain.

“Fuck Eren,” You half yell, wriggling your wrist free from his grip “Let me go,”

When he does, you stumble forward. You don’t get a look at his face as he walks over to the driver's side. In your exhaustion, you don’t think twice about it or assume he was doing it on purpose. You resign yourself. Hearing the back trunk of his car open, you try and read his face through the tinted windows. But even with the lights on, you can’t.

Sighing, you truck it towards the back. Your feet sink into the soft earth under you, huffing as you pick it up and shove it into the trunk. After you close it, you hurry back to the passenger seat, finally opening the door to see Eren.

He doesn’t even look at you when you do, eyes focused on the road. You stare at the interior of his car, grimacing at the thought of having to pay him back for getting it covered in mud. Left without a choice, you get in.

The plastic on his seat tells you he might’ve thought ahead. You aren’t sure if you should be comforted by that or not.

The door closes with a soft thud as you get to sit. The sound of the rain is muted almost instantly and leaves you with nothing but the radio, virtually silent, and Eren with a hand over the wheel. You put your seatbelt on and then settle more into your seat. Turning your body to face the window. The tension in the air is so thick you can feel yourself choke around it, breathing through your nose.

Eren’s car smells like spearmint. You’re expecting to be berated at some point, for inconveniencing him or otherwise. After all, you called him through a sob and asked him for something you’re sure he’d rather not be doing.

Instead though, he puts the car in drive, steps on the gas, and does a turn until he’s back on the road home.

He doesn’t say a word or even looks at you. Maybe reminding him of the fact he owed you meant he was going to treat this interaction as entirely transactional, which is infinitely better for you. You let out a breath of relief, shivering. He turns on the heat without you asking.

You decide against speaking and give him a glance of acknowledgment. He doesn’t return the gesture.

You hear your phone buzz in the pocket of your pants, and fish it out. As you expected, it’s just your ex-boyfriend. A slew of missed messages and calls. Your eyes hurt getting adjusted to the bright lights as you send him a quick stop texting me tonight before clicking it off. You want to throw your phone in the river, and yourself. To float down somewhere far from here, and pretend nothing ever happened.

With the white noise of rain no longer drowning out your invasive and sad thoughts, you find yourself choking back more tears. The wound is still fresh, tender, and bleeding.

You’ve always had bad taste in guys.

But you thought this time would be different. He was different. Patient, and attentive and so thoughtful. It was always stable. You met his family, for fuck sake. His mom, dad, and sister - are all good people. A nice house with a garage, health insurance, and a college graduate. From a different place than you and your friends.

It was never all that exciting, but you thought it was better that way. To keep it simple. You put in the effort to make it work. Got comfortable with complacency, and waved off all of your friends when they insisted you should date someone better. Someone who suited you more.

Maybe someone like Eren. The thought makes your stomach sour.

But your ex, he wasn’t a bad guy. It wasn’t so easy. He was safe, and after your other experience with romantic relationships- safety wasn’t something you could dismiss with the idea of deserving more. More was abstract and intangible. Slippery.

You were content, so you stayed. Stability, you told yourself, I just want stability.

He was the last person you could imagine cheating on you. Unsurprisingly with a girl from his hometown who he’d told you about before and swore he got over. Feeling stupid, you let out an exasperated laugh. It’s your fault for trying so hard. For taking his inch and trying to turn it into a mile.

For believing it’d be enough to try. Maybe you know better than anyone, there are just some people you never get closure with. That distant look in his eyes concerned you. But a guy like him didn’t seem like he’d cheat.

You’ve never been so wrong.

Your stomach rumbles as you close your eyes and go over the fight. Subsequently, you forget Eren is even in the car with you. His presence fades into the background, face pained as you think of your exes apologies. He seemed sorry.

But you’re not someone who can forgive or forget easily - so you broke up. It just complicates everything. Already broken up, but you have to get your things. Find a place to stay for the month because it’s too expensive to go home early. Delete him off your socials, and maybe get in touch with your therapist again. The laundry list of post-break-up things to do is the most frustrating and most taxing.

The emotional healing and distrust go in some compartment until you can actually unpack them. After the initial devastations scabs over, you’re sure the sore feeling of sadness will come back with a vengeance.

That’s later though, and this is now.

Moping is a pipe-dream, seeing as you’re in a place where you have no one and nothing. The only person you know lives here is Eren, but you’re not really expecting any help from him after tonight. Maybe 3 days max, if he’s feeling generous enough.

At the very least, he must feel pretty sorry for you. No snippy remark or sarcastic gripe since you’ve gotten in. You can’t figure out what he’s thinking, just as before. It’s almost impossible to get a read on his face, and that thought leaves your mouth bitter.

As bitter as a favor. As bitter as a memory, you swipe your tongue on your teeth to rid yourself of the taste but it lingers.

You avert your eyes to your hands, peeling the skin off the edge of your fingernails. After a minute or two, you drive in front of a stoplight. The red reflects onto your sneakers and into Eren’s car.

“So,” He starts, voice filled with that familiar sharpness “How’s the boyfriend?”

Ah. There it is. He almost disarmed you with his silence. It’s a weird way to start scolding you, but you’ve never really understood why Eren does what he does. You sigh, clearing your throat. It’s thick with tears you’ve been shedding all evening.

“Ex-boyfriend.”

The light goes green, and he takes a right. He lives farther than you thought.

“How’d you fuck it up this time?”

Normally, his insistence on blaming you would frustrate you. It’s classically Eren. The projection was always the name of the game when you two were dating, especially at the sour end of your relationship.

Your desire and ability to fight are diminished though, turning into ember and ash. Giving him a shrug, you laugh a bit.

“Don’t know,” You say with a little more honesty than you were intending to “I just uh. I don’t know.”

He sighs this time, and his voice goes a touch soft. Sympathy feels worse than his anger. How pathetic you must look settles in.

“...What happened?”

It’s hard to get yourself to say it. Even though you know it. Getting the words out feels like climbing a mountain. You lean back into the headrest and turn away from him. Watching the passing cars intently, you smile.

“He cheated on me. From uh, a girl with his hometown,” You say, forthright. Hoping his pity might make him go easy on you “His first love. I came home and found them in our bed,”

You can feel him go stiff beside you.

You realize that anything he said to you right now probably wouldn’t hurt. The numb pain outweighs everything else that you think it’d slide off your back.

“And?”

“Uh... I don’t know. She left. And we got into a fight. Broke up with him and said I’d figured something out. Just didn’t really want to be in the same room with him,” You sigh, rubbing underneath your eyes “Packed my shit and sort of wandered around trying to figure out what to do. Called you when I saw how late it got,”

“Should’ve called me earlier,” He says simply. You chuckle.

“Like when?”

He huffs.

“Earlier. Would’ve picked you from his place and fought him or something.”

You smile somberly.

“I thought about it, buut I thought that'd upset him, so I didn’t,”

This he scoffs at, anger in his voice.

“That’s so like you,”

You wish you could disagree.

“Yeah,” You say back, unsure of what else to do “Yeah, guess it is.”

“What’re you gonna do now?”

You take a deep breath in.

“I won’t be in your hair long. I’ll try and score an Airbnb and wait it out. Leaving early is expensive as fuck.”

“You could stay with me if it’s just a couple of weeks,” He offers easily “Airbnbs are more expensive than a ticket, right?”

“Would your girlfriend be okay with that? Does she know you’re picking me up?”

He stares out into the road, jaw clenched.

“We broke up a while ago.”

“What happened there?”

“None of your business.”

You scoff.

“Of course, it isn’t,” You reply, a little angrier than you can control “Your personal life never is. My mistake. I’m a little rusty on how this works.”

His voice is so cold it’s chilling.

“Don’t,” He grits, hands hard on the steering wheel “Don’t fucking start,”

“I’m not trying to start anything. But it’s hypocritical for you to ask me about the shit that just happened and not even tell me why you and your girlfriend broke up.”

“I’m doing you a favor,” He justifies in a half-hearted way you’ve grown accustomed to “I deserve to know,”

You laugh, voice strangled.

“You deserve a fucking foot up your ass,” You spit, suddenly shaking “A simple ‘It’s complicated or ‘I don’t want to talk about it right now’ would’ve sufficed.”

“You’re still good at picking fights,” He goads, mouth twisted in a sneer “Did you nag him too? Maybe that’s why he went crawling back to his first love”

It’s too far. He’s too far, and he knows it. It’s all over his face, even masked in anger. You shoot him a deadly look, arms crossed over your chest. Suddenly, tears well up in your eyes and you can’t even look at him. It was a mistake, of course it was. You shouldn’t have bothered. Expecting anything from Eren was your own fault. Even basic decency.

Whatever camaraderie you used to have dissolved a long time ago. You bite your tongue

“You’re the fucking worst,” You sniffle, closing your eyes “Just drop me off at a hotel. I don’t want to be around you. It’s my fault for assuming you’d be civil.”

His hands are gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Tell me how you really feel,” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I think I’m being plenty civil right now,”

“Fuck. Do you get off on provoking me? On hurting my fucking feelings?” Your voice comes to a scratchy yell, unable to contain the anger in it “I just got fucking cheated on. In the middle of a city where I don’t know a single person other than you. You’re the last person I want to fucking see, Eren. The last,”

“So why’d you call me crying?”

“I didn’t have a choice! If I had a choice, I would’ve called anyone else. Would’ve called Jean or Connie or Armin—anyone. Anyone who isn’t fucking you.”

He clicks his teeth.

“Liar,” He says with the sort of confidence that floors you “You would’ve still called me even if everyone we know was in the city,”

It stings that he’s right. Your strength crumbles.

“So what if that’s true? What does it matter that I thought of you? That’s always been my issue, right? How’d you put it again?” You laugh out loud, a little out of it “I should stop expecting anything from you, right? It’s my fault. I should just stop having expectations for anyone. It must be me.”

He looks a little strained. Almost sorry. You scoff.

“Yeah,” You mumble, exhausted “You’re right. I shouldn’t expect anything from anyone. No matter how much I heal, or how hard I try to do the right thing”

“Y/N—”

“I worked on myself. Went to therapy. Took time off from dating altogether. Did everything right and still,” Your mouth fills with iron “Still. Still. I can’t find one person to treat me decently. Congrats, Yeager. It’s just like you hoped.”

The silence that follows says more than you ever could. You rub your temple. He’s probably right that you pushed it.

“Sorry for snapping on you,” You reply, voice tense “But, I still want to be dropped off at a hotel.”

“Why?”

You laugh.

“What do you think? Think we’re gonna be able to play house for two weeks? It hasn’t even been an hour and we’re fighting,”

He’s thinking. You can see it on his face, the tight strain of his jaw, and his brows. You haven’t seen him in person for more than a couple of years. But the familiarity always lingers. It doesn’t feel unusual, even the fighting.

He hasn’t changed. That much is obvious.

You shouldn’t have called, you think. It might’ve been better to get hypothermia and walk to the nearest motel.

“It’s not your fault he cheated on you,” He says. You think it’s his way of apologizing, a piss poor attempt at comforting you “Guys are just scumbags. Hung up on their first love or whatever. It’s not uncommon,”

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. Frankly, you don’t have the energy for either.

“Does that include you?” You attempt to joke. To your surprise, he laughs. His voice is hoarse, and a touch resentful. Not at you, though. That feels important.

“Yeah.” He replies, not looking over at you “Me especially,”

It’s the first time he’s said as much about himself in your presence. Before it was that you didn’t understand him or that you didn’t get it. It’s too early to retract your previous statement. Hope sparks anyways. For what, you don’t want to know.

You nod sagely.

“You especially,” You affirm without any trouble “At least you know.”

This time, he smiles at you. It’s barely there. This whole conversation and the good nature of it is like walking on eggshells. You both know that.

Eren breaks the silence first as he pulls into another lane.

“Stay with me for tonight,” He offers “Just tonight,”

You don’t know why he insists. A loud yawn slips through your lips and your inclination to protest dwindles before being snubbed out completely. Shivering, you nod. Your head feels heavy.

“If you say so,”

You think you feel a pair of eyes on you before sleep washes over you like a tide. They might be Erens, but in your delirium, you can’t be sure. It doesn’t take much for you to succumb to sleep.

After your car ride ended, Eren woke you up gently to help you inside. This time, he took your luggage without your asking and helped you into his home.

He lives in one of those luxury apartments with a doorman. It’s fancier than you could ever imagine yourself living in. There’s a chandelier in the lobby, with a gym and a pool. Trekking mud into such a nice place makes you feel guilty. Eren seems unbothered.

You take the elevator up to the 7th floor, and then a right into the hallway. Eren fishes the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let you in.

This is a bachelor pad. It’s the first thing that crosses your mind when you enter.

The decoration is minimalist and expensive. Boyish in its extravagance, littered with pricey things only Eren Yeager would buy. The couches are black, the carpet is white and the windows are big panes that overlook the entire city.

A flatscreen takes up most of the room. There’s a kitchen but it looks unused. It’s lived in, in the way that there are running shoes and clothes. Mess that happens when you spend your time somewhere, but it’s void of things a girlfriend would have in the house. You would know.

On one of the walls is a painting of a woman's naked body, tastefully done. From what you remember of Eren’s ex-girlfriend, she’d have his head over something like that.

Eren clears his throat behind you. When you turn to look at him, he looks a little sheepish.

“Broke up a while ago huh,”

He looks surprised at your deduction. You poke your head at the painting.

“She would’ve beat your ass for even thinking about putting that up,”

His expression is affirmative. After you’re done taking it in, all of your sensory issues hit you all at once. You pull the sleeves of your soaked hoodie over your hands but you’re freezing. His eyes widen.

“Ah, shit. Let me get you a towel. I’ll turn the heat up too,”

“Thanks, ‘ren.”

The nickname slips out of habit, but you don’t get a chance to retract it as Eren shuffles off to grab you a towel.

It doesn’t take him very long, a few in hand. You watch him idly as he turns on the heat before hurrying back over to you, shoving towels your way. You make him hold them for a minute, taking off your poncho and hanging it to him.

You dry yourself off to the best of your ability as Eren goes to put away the raincoat.

“Mind if I shower?”

He shakes his head.

“Would be concerned if you didn’t. I can get us food or something while you’re in there,”

“That’s… thoughtful of you. I’d appreciate it. I can Venmo—”

He puts a hand up, sitting on the back of his couch while you dry yourself off.

“Save your money if you’re worried about it.”

“I don’t want to owe you anything.”

Your frank way of speaking to him irritates him, same as always.

“You won’t owe me,” He assures first “I know we hate each other's guts now, but I’m not gonna let you go hungry.”

Warm. It makes you feel warm. You avert your eyes as you dry yourself off.

“Your mom would have your head,” You murmur. He laughs.

“My mom might forgive me. Zeke and my old man would hang me like a flag,”

“How’s Zeke been?”

His expression goes dry. They’re fighting. Eren rolls his eyes.

“Fine. On my ass, as usual. Business is good. I’ve got a niece now. Zeke’s wrapped around her finger,”

You’ve seen it floating on social media. You feel a little melancholy. It must show on your face.

“You should still visit home sometimes. Don’t be a stranger,”

You smile sadly.

“Easier said than done,”

“...Even if you don’t see me. I’m not the only one who misses you. Jean hasn’t stopped bitching about you going to see just Armin.”

You don’t know if he catches it. He misses you. You’re too afraid to confront it but unable to ignore it. You think over his words.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” You start, voice slow “But after everything… after everything.”

There’s a minute where neither of you talks. Yet it’s not silent. The room is tense with everything you want to say or everything you did. Every regret, every memory starts to buzz all at once inside of your ribs like a spark of electricity through your hollow.

“If tonight didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have ever seen you again,”

He shakes his head with the same confidence as before.

“I would’ve found you.”

He says it like it doesn’t need any explanation. As casual as relaying the weather to you. He gives you a look, scratching his jaw.

“Go shower. How’s Thai? Same as before?”

It takes you a second to find your voice.

“Y-Yeah. Same as before. Where’s your shower?”

He directs his eyes towards the bathroom. You grab your small luggage on your way, offering him a quiet thanks. The sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, faster than the pounding rain.

Time passes like sand between your fingers.

After a shower, a change of clothes, and a full stomach - you and Eren are left totally in each other's company. Your expectation of it being awkward or even marginally uncomfortable becomes unthinkable after a while. Despite how late it is, you aren’t tired or all that sad.

Truthfully, you don’t know how to handle how familiar Eren feels. Like a durable winter coat with a heavy and comforting weight on your shoulders. It’s not burdensome to talk to him. He matches your pace and picks up easily on your quips. Natural lulls in conversation don’t feel uncomfortable and every misdirect or anecdote opens the door for more conversation.

Maybe you should’ve expected that. You and Eren grew up together. Along with Mikasa and Armin, and everyone from your hometown. It shouldn’t surprise you that Eren is comfortable.

When you look at him, you see home. If your gaze lingers. even a second too long or if you think for a minute more than necessary, you’re caught in the web of memories you’ve spent your whole life making.

You wonder about your ex-boyfriend. The irony of it isn’t lost on you. Maybe it hurts because you understand perfectly. No matter how much you love after, there’s nothing like first love. If he saw that in her eyes, it’s all that much harder to feel angry.

The only thing keeping you grounded is remembering that you’ve tried before and it failed miserably. It sinks you when you float too close to your heartwarming nostalgia.

The acrid truth is that this is all temporary and circumstantial.

Every now and again you remind yourself you’ve just been very vulnerable. And Eren’s grounding presence is helping you.

Again and again, you remind yourself that.

“High school was so ass,” Eren leans back into the couch, stretching his legs out “Mrs. Carnegie was such a bitch,”

You give him an unimpressed look. He looks like you remember when he’s like this. Having changed into his own clothes, hair tied up messily. He’s adjacent to you on the couch, far enough to stretch his limbs comfortably.

“She was nice to me. She was a bitch to you because you kept interrupting class,”

He rolls his eyes.

“And who was I doing that for?”

Your heart skips a beat. .

“Man, whatever.”

He laughs at you.

“Weak come-back,” He hums, laying his head on the back of his couch. He tilts his head in your direction “I was a good boyfriend in high school at least,” He adds, a little softer.

“You were. You were kinda like a puppy,”

He groans.

“Don’t say it like that, that’s humiliating.”

“What are you talking about? Puppies are cute.”

“Yeah, but hearing that now is embarrassing. I’m a man now,”

You raise a brow.

“Men can't be cute like puppies?”

“No,”

“But Armin is right there,”

“Doesn’t count. He literally looks like a fairy prince. Statistical anomaly,”

That makes you laugh hard enough your stomach hurts.

“Why’re you laughing? Am I wrong?”

“You just said it so seriously. He is an anomaly but I think Connie is cute in a puppy way too,”

“Connie’s bald ass? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I like it, his hair looks good buzzed.”

“You’d find something nice to say about a pile of trash,”

“I like your long hair, Yeager.”

He gives you an unimpressed laugh as you break out into laughter.

“Low fucking blow,”

“Cry,”

This time he laughs instead, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it easily, holding it to your chest.

“I do like the hair though. It’s all you ever talked about,”

He gives you a little smile.

“You remembered. I thought it’d make me look cooler. Alternative or whatever. Don’t know if it’s working,”

“Your fans seem to love it,”

He looks sheepish at the mention of his work. You laugh.

“It gets a mixed response. A lot of people miss the short hair. I mostly keep it long because it’s easier to style,”

“Both are nice. I like your short hair more when I think about it,”

“Yeah?”

“I guess it’s cause it was short when we’re growing up. And uh,”

“When we were dating?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah. When we were dating, it was always short,”

He closes his eyes, suddenly deep in thought.

“You wanna know why I kept it short?”

You think you’d be better off not knowing.

“...Why?”

“When you’d play with my hair,” Subconsciously, he pushes his hair back a little “I could feel it better when my hair was shorter. Thought if I’d grew it, you wouldn’t touch it cause it’d get greasy quicker.”

All at once, you pull back. Whatevers on your face isn’t enough to make Eren waver when he looks at you. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes. Ocean blue, and full of something dark. Tempting like an abyss or a siren song. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“It’s something I’d do,”

The way Eren stares at you is so intense. You’re dancing around it now. What you both want to talk about it. A conversation that’s gone untouched for more than 4 years. Sober and aching. Different but the same.

Eren breaks the tension first. That’s twice.

“I’d cut my hair short if you asked me,”

You’re quiet.

“I’d do whatever you want,”

“Eren,”

“What?”

What do you say? Don’t? Please? What could you say that means more than his name in your mouth?

“You know what,” You say weakly “You know,”

A conversation you’ve had a hundred times before. It burns like bile rising in your esophagus. Crushed windpipes under the burden of love. Your hands grip the ends of the pillow tighter. He sits up straighter. You don’t want to talk about it.

“Do I?”

“Eren,” A warning.

“There’s not any point in talking around it, “ He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie “Around this. Around us.”

“There is no us,” You correct sharply, shaking your head “Not anymore,”

His face doesn’t have anything you can read. You know yours must read of resentment. Eren is his usual blank.

“There could be,”

You shatter at the sentiment. The hopeful, easy way he says it. Like he doesn’t remember anything, and that you two are strangers. You know better that you aren’t. That no amount of healing can take it all back. Maybe you could forgive Eren, and somewhere far down the line - you could even be friends.

But us is impossible. You tried us. It blew up in your face.

“Fuck you for even saying that,” Your voice comes out garbled “Fuck you for even thinking it,”

“How is it fuck me? For wanting to fix our relationship, seriously?”

You hate him. With everything you have in you, with a burning fiery sort of anger. A resentment that’s spent years strangling you. Every time you’ve bitten your tongue, all the time you tried to fix it.

It’s all so messy and so unspeakbly touchy.

“The sooner you get it out of your head there’s a relationship to fix, the better off we’ll be,”

“Bullshit. Bullshit there’s nothing. I make you feel nothing?”

It’s not what you said. He knows that, but he means what he’s saying. And he knows your answer already because he’s like that. He already knows everything about you. Where to make you hurt, and how to make it sting. Eren is a scar, not a bruise. He stays, for as long as you’re alive. No matter how faint, or how healed - he stays a part of you.

He knows that as much as you do. That’s why it took you so long to leave. Of course you’d end up talking about it like this, but that’s not what you wanted. Or maybe it is. You don’t really know what you want from Eren. What you were hoping for when you stayed up late to talk to him and reminisce. You think just camaraderie.

“I hate you so fucking much,” You croak, wiping away angry tears “More than anyone in my life, I hate your fucking guts,”

“You don’t mean that,”

“I do,” Your reply comes in an angry hush “I can’t forget how we ended Eren. The months after I left were some of the worst of my life. Do you know how long it took me? To get better?”

His jaw clenches.

“I didn’t think you would leave,”

His confession stuns you into silence. His arrogance never fails to astound, Like this, it feels incredibly frustrating. Your stomach sours.

“...You thought I would stay? After everything?”

“You said you would,” He raises his voice this time. He sounds hurt. Angry. Sad. All things you didn’t know he could still feel “You—you fucking promised. It was supposed to be forever and you left first.”

“You can’t be serious,”

“You promised,”

“Yeah,” This time you sit up. Everything hits you at the same time “When I was 17 and in love. Before you treated me like shit,”

He winces. So he does know.

“You remember now, don’t you? You changed. You left for college, you stopped picking up my calls. You were such a fucking flirt that half of your campus thought you were single till I moved in. You remember that Eren?”

His silence makes you madder.

“You remember. right? How I’d desperately try and fix our relationship while you ran around doing whatever? You always looked so fucking indifferent. All we ever did was fight. Nothing I did worked,”

“Y/N—”

“I didn’t know anything other than you. If it was anyone else… But it was you,”

“I’m—”

“You used to tell me when we were kids that if any boy hurt my feelings, you’d kill him. You remember that?”

He closes his eyes.

“Don’t make it sound like I just up and left for nothing. We both know that’s bullshit,” You choke back a sob as you think about it. The gaping hole in your chest that Eren always left splits open again.

“I’ve always loved you. Always. From the minute I could walk and talk. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Eren,” Even now, you don’t want him thinking that “I left because you didn’t love me. I left because I realized that”

The silence that follows your rant exhausts you so much you slump back into the couch. You learned your lessons the hard way. That love was meaningless to safety. That stability was a luxury few can afford. Nothing is guaranteed.

This second time around, you know that love can’t be one-sided. Maybe that’s what all of this has been trying to teach you.

You cry silently, taking in deep breaths. You have no idea what he’ll say, and you don’t know if you care.

“I’m sorry,”

“....What?”

“I’m sorry,” His voice breaks a little this time. You don’t remember the last time you saw him cry “I didn’t mean for things to end like that,”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,”

You know it’s a mean thing to say. It’s not kind or forgiving. His sincerity doesn’t even feel real to you at the moment he says, but sorry doesn’t make you feel better. Sorry doesn't fix it.

“I know,”

“Then why say it?”

“I still love you,”

Drowning. You’re drowning in murky waters, hardly getting air.

“You don’t love me,”

“Don’t say that,” His voice sounds weak and desperate. You haven’t heard it like that in so long. Vulnerable “Even if you hate my fucking guts. I still love you, always did. Always.”

“Then why did you do that to me?”

“I was terrified,”

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Eren. Spoken to him, or even called him on the phone. Years. Checking on him through his social media and streams was all you ever got. Sometimes Armin would fill you in, or Mikasa.

But Eren, in your eyes, had remained how you left him. He got arrogant you think. He got his fix and grew up to be tall and handsome. Had aspirations and grew out of his shyness.

And instead of growing together, you grew apart. You started to accept the fact that the Eren you loved was no longer someone you could reach. The young, doe-eyed lovesick boyfriend. Eren was just a college boy now. Not your only exception, not the love of your life.

Accepting that was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in your life.

So why does he sound like someone you used to love? And why now, of all times?

“When you talk like that, it makes me think you’re different.”

“I am,” He stops for a minute, hands folded “I’m trying to be.”

“...Why were you scared?”

“It’s uhm, I don’t know how to say it,”

“Take your time,”

“Doing long distance made me realize how much I needed you,” His voice is hardly over a whisper. “It was ego. But I hated that. I had it in my head that you were off with other guys, and I—I don’t fucking know—I was stupid. I wanted to feel like you still wanted me,”

“So what? You made me chase you?”

“Yeah. Something like that. When you moved in, it just… I don’t know. I saw how everyone looked at you. I didn’t think it would make me so angry to see you like that,”

“Sounds like…”

“Self-sabotage,” Eren interjects “That’s what my therapist said, at least.”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Only a few months, but yeah. It helps.”

“I don’t understand you at all,” You shake your head “ Not at all,”

“You bring out the best and worst in me.” He replies with a humorless laugh on his lips “Still. Around anyone else, it doesn’t matter. What they do or don’t do,”

“And me?”

“You,” He rubs a hand over his face, voice shaking. He tries to be lighthearted but the sentiment is sincere “I make myself sick thinking about you,”

It feels hot under your clothes.

“We shouldn’t be… I shouldn't—”

“I know. You drive me so fucking crazy and I get so angry. I know, but how the fuck could it ever be anyone but you?”

Your breath hitches.

“What’re you saying?”

“That I want you. I want you so fucking bad. I don’t want to ever be away from you ever again. I can’t help but want that,”

You can feel him coming into your space. How he scoots closer to you, just enough that he’s moving across the couch. He’s so much bigger than you remember. Stronger. It's all moving so fast. When he puts his hand on your knee, you tense but don’t move. The dizzying smell of his cologne catches on your tongue and tickles your throat.

His eyes dart down to your lips. His hands running up your outer thighs. You’re defenseless. Weak, you pull back a little. He doesn’t move.

“I can’t just forgive you overnight—”

“I know,” He leans in a little more. Close enough that his breath touches your skin “I’ll keep trying. I want to try again. I’ll earn it this time. I’ll chase you, and you can ignore me all you want,”

He’s being cheeky as much as he’s being serious. Classically Eren. You’re so screwed.

You feel your throat close up as he inches forward.

“You’re so bad for me.” You whisper, the words too heavy.

“Two sides of the same coin,” He says back, then he smiles “We’re made for each other. You think that too. I know you do,”

“I wanted stability,”

“I’ll try to give you it. If that’s what you want.”

“And if you’re just a rebound?”

“As long as I’m yours,”

“You’re such a scumbag.”

“I know,”

Everything falls from under you the minute you kiss him.

A little noise of surprise leaves his lips that instantly morphs into desire. It’s an uncouth display of emotions, so animal that you can hardly call it love. It’s something in between love and hatred, the opposite of indifference. All the intensity of life, of every terrible emotion you’ve ever had. You kiss Eren Yeager first because you miss him, despite yourself. Everything after that is just another blurry detail.

He moans into your mouth. Where your hand has landed on his chest, he grabs your wrist and then drags you into his lap without ever breaking apart. You end up over him, with his lap under yours.

When he has you where he wants you, he hugs you close to his body. You can feel the hardlines of muscle through his shirt, his arms secure around your back. Your tits are pressed against his chest, bra forgotten. The slightest brushes are what make you feel the most.

Eren’s shaky breaths and the overwhelming way his lips move against yours. Indecision in how to treat you. Soft kisses that are followed by rough ones. The intensity of your own desire consumes your ability to act cordial, as you squeeze against Eren tight.

You can feel the rapid beat of Eren’s heart in his chest, grinding your hips into his.

In between kisses, he makes sure to nip at your jaw. You can feel his teeth pierce your pulse point, his tongue lapping over the leftover wound that leaves you shaking.

He litters bites like that on every inch of your skin, your neck left with an ache. There’s something ironic in Eren licking your wounds over, but the words escape you before you can utter them.

Even in just being claimed, the feeling is intense. It makes you visceral. Not to be worked up from touch or words, but something else entirely. Something cosmic in it’s very existence.

Eren finally pulls away from you, just barely to glance at your swollen lips. He meets your eyes as his teeth sink into the lower one to make you whine. He talks to you while your eyes are locked.

“Fuck,” His voice is thick with lust. Heat splits you right in half “Fuck, fuck, baby. Been so long,”

“Y-Your hands,”

“Can’t take em off you,” They’re smooth as they feel you up. Shamelessly squeezing the fat of your hips in between in his fingers, grabbing your ass hard. A guilt creeps up for comparing him to your ex-boyfriend.

But all you can think about is how Eren is the opposite of stability. Images pop up of when you used to have sex, so many years before. He was meeker before, less assured. You thought his confidence would make you sick, but it doesn’t.

Rather, the look on his face while he gropes you makes you wet. Chewing his lower lip, feeling your body like he’s dying to see it under his clothes. Impatiently and unabashedly wanting you in a way that is distinctly Eren.

There’s truth in the sentiment that no one could ever fuck you like Eren could. It’s one you’ve kept to yourself for so long that you almost forgot it. Eren knew your body and shaped it to his hands years ago. You like being touched because of how he touched you, a memory you carried like a torch.

It was Eren who wanted you first, who fucked you first, who made you cum first when you were both so awkward and clumsy.

“Look at you,” He groans. His hands inch under your shirt, skin on skin. Pinching your nipples gently, till they’re hard against your shirt “Look how sexy you are,”

He knows what you like, what you like being told.

“My pretty fucking girl,”

Fuck. Of course, he remembers that.

“Oh, you—”

“So pretty,” He parrots. Even with electricity buzzing in his movements, he’s patient. Undresses you gently. When your skins bare, your shirt tossed to the other side of the room, he kisses the underneath of your tits. Each one, he kneads them. Appreciates them, worships them. All of that undivided attention that he always used to give you when you were dating.

When you were in love.

“You still like when I tease ‘em too,”

His tongue runs over your hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth, His free hand occupies the other, taking time to give them both equal attention. Your body starts to ignite, little sparks of electricity flitting up your spine.

Letting your fingers card through his hair, you glance down. He looks up at you with his mouth full, eyes lidded. His lashes are long against his olive skin, sun freckles over the bridge of his nose. Your hands reach to touch the moles along his cheeks, all in places you remember.

You don’t resist the urge for intimacy. Not things you did with your ex, but with Eren. You press a kiss to his hairline and his hands get a little tighter. Your want expands, fills like a balloon.

Feeling his cock nudge against your shorts is surprising. A blush crawls over his face, grinding his hips up into you. It’s muscle memory to do it back - rocking yourself until he’s nestled between you. Dry-humping like this makes you feel like a teenager again, doing this in Eren’s dingy basement when you weren’t ready to lose your virginity.

Except Eren knows what he’s doing. He shifts his weight, sitting up enough to push up against your clit. His mouth deatches, a string of saliva in his place. The cool air against the swell of your tits make, adds to the sensation.

He grabs your ass again, this time just to push you up. To set a pace as you grind against each other.

“Wanna know something?”

You choke back a whimper.

“Mm,”

“I used to jack thinking about you,” His voice is slick when he speaks, a low whisper “Remember? You used to be too sensitive so you’d rub against the edge of your bed. Thought about it all the time after you told me,”

Your jaw drops open.

“You—”

“You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Not too sensitive for this, but—,” He does it with more purpose, a long slow drag so you can feel his shaft against your clothed cunt “you still like it slow,”

“Eren, holy—”

“Everything you like,” He hums, this time matching how he moves you with his own body “Still remember every detail,”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah baby,” He dips his head to kiss against the column of your throat again, this time sucking deep dark hickies. You can feel his lips when you moan “Everything. Kept me company,”

You’re almost too afraid to ask what he means.

“Eren,” You half beg, fingers twitching with want “Don’t tease me,”

“What do you need?”

“Uhm,” Embarrassed. For some reason, Eren asking you is making you embarrassed. You’ve never been before “This is so humiliating,”

“You were always shy about asking for it,”

“So why’re you making me, asshole?”

“I like watching you squirm,”

“Shut up, you’re awful,”

“Put something in my mouth, then?”

Your eyes go wide, and he smiles. His breath brushes against the shell of your ear.

“You wanna sit on my face, right? Shut me up,”

It was a stupid arguement you had. At the latter half of your relationship, sometimes the only way you two resolved things was sex. Eren referencing it makes you mad as much as it makes you wet.

When you were both a little inebriated, he used to beg you for it.The memories of that make you nod. Your voice is coarse with lust.

“Wanna sit on your face,”

“Take your shorts off,”

Taking off your clothes is haphazardly done. You and Eren part ways. He takes off his shirt and hoodie to reveal a body cut from pure marble. He was always athletic, but clearly his gym rat posting on his IG story were genuine and not for show. He sends you a little smirk when he catches you staring, flexing his muscles a little.

“Do I look good?”

You nod, awestruck as you wriggle out of your shorts leaving you in just your socks. Eren does the rest slowly, stood up and taking off his sweatpants His thighs are muscular, strong with a little dark hair. It’s on his stomach too, just barely there.

The fabric of his boxers strain against his cock. It’s big, bulges against the black material that you can see the skin. It’s intimidating to look at.

Your eyes follow him to the couch. You watch him get comfortable, moving pillows around to make sure there’s enough space. He flashes you a smile when he’s laid down, untying his hair as a last touch.

“Come here, angel,” He signals, waving you over “Come sit,”

The air brushes past you as you approach him. He reaches a hand out to lace with your hands.

“Face that way. So you can hold onto my hair, yeah?”

“Yeah,”

It takes you a minute. It’s easier to climb over his chest, inching towards his face. When you’re spread right over his neck, he gives you a cheeky grin. His hands reach over your thigh, pulling you apart. His eyes are zeroed in on your clit, finger brushing back the hair on you. The affectionate way he does both makes you want to hide away.

Eren is holding you in place so you can’t move.

“Look at that,” He whispers, breath fanning your cunt “Look at how wet you got for me,”

Instead of putting his tongue where you need it, he cranes his neck to one side and presses kisses into your inner thigh. Licking at the skin, he holds your eyes.

“Tell me something,”He goes an inch highe and leaves a hickey before repeating it a little bit aove “Did he ever get you this wet? You can be honest,”

Your clit throbs between your legs. Eren grins, as you squirm. You look down at him, shaking your head.

“Not like you. I mean, he wasn’t bad but he wasn’t—”

“But he wasn’t me, was he?” He goes on, his lips pressing right against your achy clit, arousal on his lips that he licks with ease “Could never be me, could he?”

“Eren,” You whine. His smile gets bigger, tongue licking one long stripe against your folds.

“Say it baby. That I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

Your reply is a meek yeah. It’s hard to do anything with confidence or self-assurance when your entire body is begging to be pleasured. Eren gives you a few more kisses on your clit, like he’s making out with it. It’s sweet and lazy, making your hips buck for more.

“I’m the same,” He coos, sticking his tongue out as he forces your weight down so you’re not longer hovering but sitting on his face “There’s nothing like you,”

He doesn’t hesitate to dive in right after that. Burying himself deep, your hands immediately fix at the base of his hair. He’s not shy about it, his tongue laid flat, creating just enough suction around to feel. It’s perfectly pracited, familiar.

Eren eats you out from memory. That much is obvious to you as soon as you feel him, the wet heat of his mouth and his tongue. It’s a measured build of pleasure, soothing a long-time ache that slowly escalates to something more.

A mewl escapes your throat. He moans against your pussy, nose bumping against you. Tugging at the roots of his hair, you wiggle your hips to get him to give you more.

You feel the coil in your tummy when Eren goes a little deeper, sucks a little harder, moves a little faster. Encouraging you to use him to the best of your ability as he pushes your hips, nails dug in the skin to keep you steady Looking down makes you see him completely blissed out, like he’s in a comfortable dream.

You don’t really remember the last time someone went down on you like this without asking. Like he’s enjoying it all on his own, like he wants you. There’s vigor to how he takes you into his mouth, tastes you greedily, with appreciative grunts and groans.

The word perfect falls flat to how Eren licks your pussy. Perfect is too prim, too neat. Whatever Eren makes you feel between your legs, is far from perfect. Eren is something more. More intangible, hard to touch. He eats your pussy perfectly, but messily. Desperately, lovingly. Every inch of you is wanted, tongue nestled against your folds and on your hard clit like he wants to stay. He looks at you intoxicated and it shows in how much joy he takes in tasting you. Hitched to your very existence, like a planet revolving around the sun.

He does it like it’s a privilege, a divine gift. Sucks like it’s sweet, ripe fruit in scorching summers. Water in an oasis, deserving of only the highest praise. Not worth wasting even for pride. Shameless.

You can feel yourself tipping closer and closer to the familiar edge. Each second pushes you to it, closer and closer and closer before you feel the feeling again. Deep in your body, undoing you completely.

“Eren, oh—”

You cum hard. It’s the first one, the most intense. Eren is unyielding as you hit your high and start to fall back down, catching on each layer of the ozone. You moan his name over and over, Eren, Eren, Eren. It’s all you can think to say. The only person you’d trust to catch you from this high, you fall foward. Hand gripping on the couch, you try to wiggle away but he won’t let you until he’s had his fix.

When he pulls away, he takes in a deep breath.

You lean back, catching sight of his face. It’s dripping down his chin. He reaches his hands to wipe it with his fingers, then sticks his hands up to you.

“Open your mouth up,” He says, pushing his fingers against your tongue “Or come down here and clean me up, maybe?”

You widen your eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you wiggle down until you’re face level with him. He gives you a glance, encouraging you. Unsure, you push your tongue out against his neck, tracing down to his adams apple. He groans, voice vibrating.

“Fuck yeah,” His hands comes around the back fo your neck “Just like that baby. That’s perfect,”

Your memory reminds you. You repeat your actions, tongue dragging over his nec and chin, presses kisses and bites all along his jaw and neck. Eren moans above you appreciatively. The sound is pleasing. Hearing it over and over eggs you on to “clean” him up well until you reach his lips.

The way he kisses you is sweet and gentle. He kisses your lips before peppering them on your face.

“Fuck, look at what you’re doing to me.”

“Making you sappy?”

“Already was. I’m so hard for you right now, it’s fucking stupid,”

You let out a whine.

“Mm,”

“Condoms upstairs,”

“Don’t need ‘em. ‘s fine. Just give it to me how it is,”

He shivers against your body.

“I wanna cum just thinking about it,”

“Don’t think about it and come fuck me,”

He laughs, handing coming down on your ass.

“Get up,”

You stand up and Eren follows suit. He gives you a quick peck before whispering in your ear.

“Bend over the edge of the couch for me,”

Shivering, you nod your head and walk beind the couch. You shoot Eren a look over your shoulder, seeing him ease his cock out of his boxers to give it a quick stroke. It’s just high enough that you struggle to get over it all the way. His eyes are piercing, watching you as you bend over like he asks. You push your ass towards him.

“Like this?”

“That’s perfect, angel. Stay like that,”

You can hear him coming towards you. The weight of his body, bare chest against your spine is almost startling. He’s not crushing you, but you’re still completely pinned under underneath him. You wriggle your hips back, struggling to move.

His hand creeps lower and lower, finger slipping through your folds. He feels you up like that for a while, whistling.

“You’re so wet,” He coos. His voice is smooth in your ear. You moan. He rests his chin just over your shoulder as you turn your head to kiss him. Slowly, he slips his middle finger inside. You’re surprised how little resistance there is really. The pad of his finger reaches far, rubs against your g-spot without second guessing it.

Your squealing makes him do it again. It’s a careful move. Your body responds to him eagerly as he slips another one, steady. Until he’s knuckle deep, stretching out unhurriedly. When it’s no longer a tight fit, he pulls away from you.

Over you, he repositions. You can hear him spit in his hand behind you, the way his palms move against his cock. It’s all completely quiet besides that, lewd little noises that clue you into what he’s doing. Not seeing him makes the anticipation greater, leaves you vulnerable to whatever he wants to do.

“Missed this pretty pussy so much,” He hisses, the head of his cock pushing past your folds until he’s snug against your hole. The muscle clenches “So fucking warm,”

“Eren,”

He pushes forward, a calculated push of hips. You both moan when he enters you. Just the tip, just the familiar curve of his cock. Your inside ache, deep inside. A place only Eren could reach, you think. He groans nto your ear. Your feet are barely touching the floor in this position, Hardly reaching the ground, toes holding you up. The back of the couch digs into your stomach. It’s puts a pressure on your lower belly, that Eren must feel.

All your muscles are tense. Tight. The tip of his cock rubs against your walls. He’s so hard. Intrusive. You clench around him again. Jaw agape, you moan as he pushes even further.

“See that?” He whispers, against the shell of your ear. His hands grab yours, putting them behind your back till your defenseless “She remember me,”

The moan you let out is entirely involuntary once it hits you he means your pussy. Your walls spasm around him. He chuckles at that.

“That’s right. She loves me even if you don’t, doesn’t she?” Pulling his hips back until your empty, he fills you again. Harder this time. You choke on air “We made love tonight, didn’t we?”

“Eren, shit”

“I like when you say my name baby,” He says, another thrust “Like when your pretty pussy welcomes me home. It’s mine, isn’t it? Always has been. Bet he wasn’t making you feel like this, was he?”

All at once, you feel Eren for what he’s worth. You feel his cock, the curve and the shape the weight as it drags inside of you. You feel the weight of his body, all the stretch in your thighs as he casts over you like a shadow. The gravelly way that he speaks reverberating in your bones. He’s fucking you like he’s all the way in the bottom of your stomach.

Like a puzzle piece, Eren completes you on a level no one else in the world could. The way he talks to you reflects his, confidence not unearned. He’s cocky and awful, but his dick is doing this to you. Making your mouth fall open until your drooling underneath him. He answers every craving you ever had, that bone-deep sense of dissatisfaction that you’ve spent an entire year burying.

Eren fucks you like he’s in love with you, and only you. His cock kisses your cervix, and it feels like the same kind done at weddings. A vow to you, a promise. It feels so fucking good when Eren fucks you. Nothing in the world could ever quite comparing to that satisfaction. Deep in your body, primal and hungry.

“You were made for me,” He pants in your ear “Made just for me. No matter how far you go, I’ll find you. Remind you that. You get it now?”

You whimper out loud. Yes comes out naturally. Eren kisses your shoulder blade before sinking his teeth into it.

“Knew you would,

Eren fucks you the only way he’s ever known to. Deep and paced. You can’t say how he does it with anyone else, but with you it’s always been the same. Like he’s carving you out with his cock, the way you’ve always needed. You know you’re starting to be close again with each thrust. It’s a memory that your body welcomes.

Eren knows what you need to cum, but he waits. Like always, he keeps at it until your walls are tremor. Until you’re just getting there, and you need the extra push to get you to your end. He keeps you at the end as he fucks you, whispers filthy things in your ear until you reach the point of desperation that you’re begging.

“Please, Eren,” At your limit, pleaing “Please make me cum,”

“There’s the magic word,”

He snakes a hand around, reaching your clit and giving it a gentle rub. Everything happens at once. It’s perfect motion. Equilibrium. You can feel your knees start to give in as he gives it to you, the tension gently easing out. A carbonated soda, cracked open slowly to make way for the big finish. The release. Eren speaks to you again.

“Cum for me angel. Give it to me,”

Like a seismic wave, you cum hard on Eren’s cock just like he asked. He’s not far behind you, thrusting through the waves of pleasures. Your brain melts out of your ears completely, babbling to him to give you his cum too.

And he does in record time, shallowly rutting into you until you’re full of him, shooting deep. You feel your insides painted white, content at the feeling.

When he pulls out of you, you feel it drip onto his hardwood floors. You’re unsure of what comes next, but he pulls you right into your arms. Into his chest, even with wobbly legs.

“I’m not gonna let you go again,” He assures, more to himself than to you “You’re mine. Forever and always,”

Against your better judgement, you give in. Just for now. Just for the time being.

#eren x reader #eren smut #aot x reader #aot smut #writing tag #toxic cw #cheating cw

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avoxrising · 5 months

Text

The Feral One • Chapter 7

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Trying to balance good writing with getting out chapters quickly so bare with me!

Content warnings - violence and death, cursing

“It’s a clock!” Katniss exclaims. “Wiress, you’re a genius!”

Katniss explains to the group how the arena works, making you realize that you running into the tribute during the lightning was just a coincidence, and the lightning didn’t always mean danger.

The group decides to go to the cornucopia to survey the arena and test their theory. You would like to grab a weapon but you don’t know if that’s allowed. Katniss already confiscated the arrow she shot you with so all you have is a weak arm and an injured arm.

Finnick walks between you and Peeta, with Katniss behind him. You really need to earn her trust back if you’re going to stay with the group, although, you don’t know how much she trusted you to begin with.

Katniss and Peeta warily eye you as you look through the weapons, trying to find a knife or two. Too many large weapons will just slow you down. You’d rather just have a few knives on you.

“She’s fine,” you hear Finnick tell the pair. “It’s safer for us that she is armed in case we get attacked. She’s already told me she doesn’t want to kill you so I doubt she’ll throw any knives your way. She knows the difference between doing damage in a fight and killing. Just give her space and don’t act so on edge around her. She’s doing her best.”

Katniss lowers her bow but doesn’t make any move to distance herself from you. It seems like the guarding followed you from the capital to the arena.

The group sits down as Peeta draws a map of the arena. Wiress goes down to the water to clean off some wire Beetee got that you assume is for his big smart plan.

“Did you see anything where you went?” Finnick asks you. You shake your head and just point at the lightning Peeta drew on the map.

“Just lightning?” he confirms and you nod your head. Looking at the map, you’re glad you only ended up with lightning. The rest of the jungle looks terrifying.

The group begins chatting about birds in mines when you hear a sudden gasp. You all turn to see Gloss slitting Wiress’ throat. If the capital wanted you to act feral, they were about to get a show.

It happened so fast. Katniss shot Gloss before Johanna threw an axe into Cashmere, killing her instantly. You noticed Brutus and Enobaria going for Finnick and Katniss but you were too far away to stop the knife Enobaria threw from sinking into Finnick thigh. She’s dead.

You charge at her, screaming like a wild animal. She seems ready for your attack, however, and positions herself for your oncoming blow. You collide with her, sending both of you to the ground.

There’s no time to reach for the blade tucked into your belt. You claw at her face, drawing blood, as she attempts to push you off her. She’s successful in rolling the two of you over, putting herself on top. You go to grab for a knife when her teeth sink into your wrist, shooting pain through your whole body. It’s a shock she didn’t bite your whole hand off.

That’s when the cornucopia starts spinning. Enobaria leaps off of you and tries her best to escape with Brutus while the rest of the group is caught off guard by the movement. You clutch onto the rocks with your good arm but you can feel yourself slipping.

Katniss falls off the same time you do, sending both of you into the water. Even with your bad arm, you’re still a better swimmer, so when the water calms you’re able to orient yourself.

You spot Katniss struggling to find the surface a few yards away from you, so you dive back under and swim to her. Bracing yourself for human contact, you grab her arm and start propelling her to the surface. It takes her a second to realize you’re helping, especially with the amount of blood you’re releasing into the water, but she swims with you till you reach air again.

Peeta helps her out of the water, checking to make sure she’s ok. You do your best to pull yourself up but you’re in too much pain. Finnick takes notice and grabs onto you, yanking you onto the rocks.

He doesn’t even have to say what you’re thinking. The bite looks bad. It’s hard to tell if Enobaria punctured the vein in your wrist but you think she did due to the amount it’s bleeding.

“Johanna,” Finnick calls. “Do we have any bandages left?”

“Nope,” she shouts. “The only ones we had went to Volts.”

“Shit,” he mutters, trying to figure out what to do. He uses your knife to cut the arm off your wetsuit, apologizing that he had to cut yours as his was destroyed by the fog. He wraps the fabric tightly around your wrist, trying to stop the bleeding.

“This should work until we can get some sponsors to send us something better,” he states. You shake your head at him. Sponsors wouldn’t send you anything. You were on your own.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #hunger games fic #finnick odair #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair angst #finnick #thg finnick #finnick fluff #catching fire #the feral one

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book-reaper · 2 months

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Closer

Please note that this is my first time posting on Tumblr so please be kind since I don't really know what I'm doing.

TW?: Smut, and biting kink (giving and receiving), ft. Will Graham at the end. Read at your own risk. No minors pls.

Also no use of Y/N, I sort of made up a character but if you guys like her I have a couple ideas for a story with the three of them. But buckle up this is longer than I intended it to be.

Amara was fast asleep beside Hannibal as something inside him woke him. Something deep and primal was demanding more and more attention, remaining unsatisfied and unrelenting until it got what it wanted. Opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling he took a moment to assess this new feeling. Soon enough he realized this feeling was directed towards the woman still sound asleep next to him, unaware of the new urge that plagued him. Taunted him.

As he placed together the pieces of what he was feeling he looked over at her. The woman that was so much like him and yet so different. He can still remember the day he met her for the first time with clarity that he hoped would never go away.

Hannibal was standing next to Will and Alana as they observed the girls. The Butterflies as they had referred to themselves several times. There were twelve sitting in the room hidden mostly by their hospital beds that they had pushed to the center of the room and placed in a circle. Each bed coming into place made them just a tad safer, a tad more hidden, as they sat in the center of the circle quietly talking to one another and seeking comfort in those that could truly understand what they had gone through.

“The other one, Amara, is upstairs. She was pretty seriously injured in the escape.” Jack’s voice came up from behind them.

“How bad is it?” Alana asked, always the first to worry.

“Gunshot wound to the leg, stab wound in the abdomen, a fairly serious amount of blood loss, some trauma to the head but it looks like she’ll be fine.” Jack reassured.

“I don’t think any of them will be fine for a long time.” Alana had remembered the pictures of the place they had been. Over two hundred other Butterflies had been chemically preserved and mounted into glass cases lining the walls of their hell.

Hannibal was intrigued by the wings. Each girl had a different pair of wings tattooed onto her back. A different type of butterfly. Each one was unique and crafted with care. The shapes were distinct and shading meticulously perfect. Each pair was a work of art.

“They are keeping her separate from the others?” Will asked, unsure if it is the best move to keep her separated from the only support network she had.

“The extent of her wound means they would need to keep a closer eye on her, change her bandages, and check on her far more frequently than the others; however anytime someone enters the room the butterflies get stressed out. They are most likely separating her so they can treat her without making what the others are going through worse for them.” Hannibal explained briefly.

“While the majority aren’t willing to speak to anyone much less talk about what exactly happened, she is apparently an open book.” Jack reiterated what the charge nurse had told him.

“She’s talking about what happened?” Alana asked, surprised.

When Hannibal had entered the room he remembers feeling an unexplainable sense of possessiveness at seeing her standing by the window rather than laying in bed. Two nurses were stood on either side of her asking her to go back to bed.

“Bailey, Dezeray, I understand that you’re trying to do what’s best for me, and I appreciate that, but if I have to lie around for another minute I think my mind will break here more than it ever did in The Garden.” She told them calmly. Something about her oozed a sense of serenity and calm. Whatever it was made the nurses feel comfortable to let her stand and move around with the promise she won’t over do it, despite that being the only things she shouldn’t be doing with her injuries.

Maybe it was that very feeling of serenity she gave him that made him fall for her in the end. Maybe it was how easily she got the two nurses charged with her care to let her do things she shouldn’t be doing. Maybe it was her wings. They were the wings of his favorite butterfly after all. Greta Oto, The Glass Butterfly. Maybe it was her small frame that came in at a mighty 5’3. Maybe it was the look in her eye that he nearly missed as she recounted the events that took place in The Garden and her escape.

The subtle darkness that shifted over her eyes as she recounted how she killed each of the three men keeping her and the others captive before returning to her enclosure to free them. A predator disguised as prey protecting her kaleidoscope. Maybe it was a combination of her beauty with her cleverness, her logic, her level of emotional control and regulation, her persuasiveness that seemed to come as easily to her as breathing, her sharp instincts as he recognised her clocking what he was within a few moments of meeting him, her sense of hearing which complimented his sense of scent wonderfully.

Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was none of them. Regardless he found himself awake before the sun and the side of him that he had only ever heard telling him to kill, to consume, now telling him to hold her. To get closer to her. And so he did. He was careful not to wake her as he pressed his body against her back and locked her in place with his arm.

Closer. It urged. He pressed his body flush against her and slid his other arm under where her head rested on the pillow, allowing him to gently place his nose into her hair and flood his senses with her. She stirred gently at the movement but remained asleep.

Closer. It voiced. He tenses slightly, the arm around her unconsciously pulling her tighter against him. He would have to wake her to get even closer.

Closer. It demanded. Hannibal knew that when that side of him started demanding things it would get what it wanted in the end. There was no denying it but he could hold it off for a little while. Hopefully long enough. Hannibal gently brushed the hair away from his beloved's neck, exposing the soft sensitive flesh to the beast of a man. He gently placed feather light kisses all along the column, gradually getting firmer. Trying to slowly and gently wake her from slumber.

Amara was a light sleeper, always had been, so she was awoken by the faint kisses being placed on her neck by rather familiar lips. Enjoying the unprompted affection she laid still and fought to keep the smile off her lips. A battle she lost as he got more firm. If she hadn’t known any better she would say that Hannibal was acting needy. Hannibal, not seeing the lazy smile on her lips, only pulled his lips back from their spot just behind her ear and paused briefly as she let out a content hum.

Now knowing she was now awake he kissed his way up from her shoulder to her jaw. As he got closer she shifted onto her back so she could look up at him. As he locked eyes with him she gently brought her hand up to run her fingertips along his cheekbone. Hannibal's eyes fluttered shut as his body relaxed slightly when it was satisfied for a meer moment before demanding more. Amara noted that Hannibal needed something although she wasn’t entirely sure he knew what he needed.

But her touch seemed to soothe the fire coursing through his body but as he opened his eyes again she found a certain type of hunger within them that she had satiated less than 12 hours ago before they had cleaned up and gone to sleep. Hannibal knew she knew what he needed even if he hadn’t figured it out yet himself. He could see it in her eyes and soul that read him with an ease that no one else had.

She gently smiled at him and grabbed his shoulder, softly pulling and insisting he lay atop her. He did so without resistance and placed his forehead on hers, simply taking a moment to breathe in her presence and the passive effect it seemed to have on every part of him. Almost shyly, she reached up and kissed him. Short and quickly at first, hoping to get him to understand what it was he needed as she pulled back and gave him a moment to sort through his mind.

Soon enough he seemed to understand and as he settled a small bit of his body weight on her he kissed her with all of what he recognized as desire to be burning in his body like a blaze. The kiss was firm, urgent, and demanding as it got louder.

Closer.

He pressed his tongue gently against the seal of her lips. She let him in.

Closer.

He slid his hand under her (his) shirt and dragged it up to her back, up her wings to easily press her chest against his.

Closer.

He tilted his head to be able to better explore her mouth with his tongue as he took in the feel of her breast pressed against his chest. And as if she heard its plea she locked her legs around his waist and pulled his hips flush with hers. A groan slipped past his lips at the feeling of his cock pressed against her, separated only by his silk pajama pants and the cotton of her underwear.

Closer. It got louder. Instinctively his lips left hers and instead went searching for that one spot on her neck he knew brought her pleasure. While she ran her hands over the muscles of his back the hand not still pressing her to him slipped from its place in fisting the pillow beside her head to between the two and began unbuttoning the shirt she wore.

He needed to feel her skin against his. He craved to feel every inch of her. To mark every inch of her. To hear her moan and scream and wither beneath him. He needed these things as much as he needed to breathe. He needed to be closer.

Her hands wandered up to his hair and pulled gently. He felt the tremor that ran down her spine as he found that special spot on her neck. He attacked it with teeth, and tongue, and harsh sucking. The moans that slipped past her lips vibrated through him and granted his very soul pleasure. He needed more.

And more he got as his hand finally undid the last button. His hand came to support her lower back to help keep her hips against his as he sat up with her in his lap. The shifting from a horizontal position to a vertical one grinded her hips against his in the most delicious way. He could feel his patience waning as he pulled the shift off her as if it had offended him.

Closer. Feeling her slipping from his lap his hands quickly pulled her hips back against his. Although it was no use. The silk of his pants just kept forcing her to slide.

“It will just be for a moment.” She whispered the reassurance to him before pulling away from him entirely. He didn’t like it. Faster than he had ever done before he stood and removed his pants before climbing back atop her. While he removed his only barrier she removed her last and threw her panties on top of his discarded pants.

Closer. It wasn’t as loud as Hannibal grinded his cock against her slick opening. He nipped at her collar bone and chest relentlessly. She knew what he needed. He knew what he needed, but he needed permission first. Permission she did not hesitate to provide.

“Bite me, Hannibal.” Those three words opened a floodgate in his mind. He bit down on her breast. Her head pushed back against the pillow as her back arched her breast into his mouth. Helplessly, her hips bucked up to grind against his cock. She had no control over it. A fact Hannibal knew and used to his advantage. With each bite and bruise he left on her she bucked against him, coating him more and more with her slick.

By the time Hannibal pulled back to breathe she had thoroughly soaked his cock and her slick had begun dripping down onto the sheets. With one final closer reverberating through his mind he pushed inside her. Hannibal wished he could say he was gentle with it, even with the very generous coating of her arousal Hannibal was simply too big to enter her as roughly and as quickly as he did without causing discomfort to her. Discomfort that was voiced through the sharp sound of a hiss as she sucked in a quick breath and tensed.

He shushed her gently and rested more of his body weight on her knowing that it would often help ground her. Delicately he cupped her face and placed kisses along her jawline and up to her lips. Despite wanting nothing more than to thrust and grind wildly against her he controlled himself. It was the least he could do after his demonstration of his lack of control. He held himself buried to the hilt, hips pushed flush against hers as he waited for permission from her once again.

After a deep breath or two she ran her nails along his back, gently up either side of his spine exactly how she knew drove him crazy. A test. She did this over and over again testing his patience when he did not want to use it. Once she deemed him in control, she clenched around him. Hard.

That clench had been what he was waiting for as Hannibal pulled nearly completely out and slammed back in with a force that moved her up the bed. He couldn’t have that. Sliding his arm under her back, across her wings, he gripped her shoulder and held her to him as he thrust again and again. Each moan and soft gasp from her lips was like a melody, weaving its way through the room, enticing and captivating Hannibal, a symphony just for his ears.

As Hannibal was thrusting wildly but slowly, taking the time to gauge her reaction to each new spot he touched as he desperately searched for something. Amara had her neck bared for him. A temptation he could not resist. On the side he had been so gentle with previously, leaving a trail of gentle kisses earlier before the sun had begun to rise, he bit down. His teeth sinking into the flesh giving him a pleasure he believed to be unmatchable. That was until he found the spot he had been searching for.

As soon as he had found his target her nails dug into his back. Marking his flesh in return as she very nearly screamed his name. Nearly screaming isn’t enough. He couldn’t stop the growl that rumbled from deep within his chest as his jaw tightened on her neck and his hips began moving faster than what she could keep up with. Now that he knew where his target was he would be damned if he missed it even once.

Amara was aware that she was simply along for the ride at this point. She clawed at him helplessly in an attempt to ground herself as he held her so tightly to him she had difficulty breathing. He held her so closely that she could feel every sound in his chest that he would kill as it attempted to make its way up his throat. He had always preferred to listen to her sounds rather than his own. He had once told her that her sounds of pleasure were more pleasing to him than any sound any instrument could produce.

Amara, in a desperate attempt to hold off her orgasm decided to cling to Hannibal. Her legs raised and locked around his hips. She made the wrong decision. The new position of her hips allowed Hannibal to not only thrust against that spot inside her with more force but now it allowed the head of his cock to kiss her cervix. After the mere second thrust she came with a scream of Hannibal’s name, her back unable to arch into him any more than she already was yet trying anyway.

He slowed, showing her momentary mercy. He could feel the sting on his back of her marks. Wearing her marks gave him pleasure. He needed more. Regardless of whether or not she was ready for more, his thrusts picked up speed again. She withered and squirmed beneath him as he quickly overwhelmed and overstimulated her.

“Just one more.” The words quietly tumbled from his lips. She knew he wasn’t just talking about one more orgasm. He wanted another mark on his body. A sign to show everyone he was not theirs. Just as his marks showed the world that she was not theirs either.

Amara just managed to scrounge up enough composure to latch her lips onto his neck. Her teeth scraping against his pulse allowed a moan to slip past his lips as he quickly became putty in her hands. He needed this. He needed to bear her marks. He needed the constant connection and sense of closeness to her that her marks brought him no matter how far apart they may physically be that day.

Amara, seizing the opportunity to drive Hannibal mad, took great pleasure in sucking multiple marks onto his neck and teasingly grazing her teeth over him yet never biting down. She could feel Hannibal’s control slipping. Each brush of her blunt teeth and of her sharp canines coming so close to sinking in, brought him closer to his end.

Hannibal knew he wouldn’t last much longer while she was having her fun so he brought his hand down and played with her clit. The attention to her clit was the last little push she needed to fall into that blissful abyss once again. Her mouth being so close to Hannibal’s flesh, so tantalizing. In her haze of pleasure she hadn’t realized that she finally bit down in the junction between Hannibal’s neck and shoulder until her mouth was flooded with the rich taste of blood.

For Hannibal, the pain, the erotic act of your lover sinking their teeth into you, was what finally pushed him over the edge. As if he was only close enough to satisfy the darkness within him when she had her jaws fastened around him. His hips slowed to a grind as he emptied the last bit of his cum into her. Despite the sweat and heat Hannibal did not dare more from her. Even as she removed her teeth from his flesh and allowed her head to fall back onto the pillow, she didn’t dare move to push him away.

It took longer than if there were more space between the two but eventually they caught their breaths. A quick glance to the clock sitting on the nightstand showed it to be nearly 7 o’clock. He didn’t have to be in the office today until 10 so he was happy that he had plenty of time for aftercare. It took him a while to find the willpower to pull himself out of her and even longer to find the strength to pull away from her and finally allow her to breath unobstructed.

With a quick kiss to her forehead he got up and made his way to the bathroom, allowing her a few minutes to herself as he started the shower and made sure it was the right temperature. He was about to return to the bedroom to collect you when Will entered with you in his arms.

“Will, I was not aware you were up.” Hannibal addressed his other partner.

“I wasn’t until you woke me.” Will grumbled, not happy about being woken up this early nor being excluded from the fun, as he carefully placed Amara down on her feet but not letting go of her since her legs were still shaky.

“Sorry. I would have gotten you but Hannibal was being needy.” Amara was quick to throw Hannibal to the metaphorical wolves all with a playful smile. Not amused by her words but always by her, Hannibal merely raised an eyebrow at her with a fond smile on his face. She got a chuckle from Will, albeit a still groggy one, but getting anything besides a complaint from him this early is a success in her books.

“Next time I will make more of an effort to pull myself away from her to get you Will.” Hannibal apologized before inviting them both into the shower with him.

#smut #hannibal #will graham #oc? maybe #oc?? yeah i think #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #i think that's it #im not sure what else to put #biting kink #future story?#if you want #I don't even know if anyone will see this

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bicycle4two · 1 year

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short fic starring jason and his little mouse from built to love, but broken now

find more ficlets of this couple here

Driving Lessons

Learning how to drive has always been something Jason wanted to do. Even before Bruce took him in, Jason wanted to drive, wanted to have the freedom to go wherever he wanted, to be in charge of how he got there, to be able to dictate when he can leave.

And, sure, he can always just do it. He’s smart, clever, has a natural instinct for this sort of thing. If you put him behind the wheel, Jason’s pretty sure he can make it from point A to B without crashing, without veering too close to the sidewalk, but with all the things he does behind the police’s back, outside the law, he figured that this, this is the one thing he can do by the book.

At least until he needs to make a quick getaway, then there really isn’t much he can do about that.

Anyway, Jason’s quite confident he can get his license without sweat. It’s just, he thought that it would be good if his little mouse could learn, too, for emergencies. She had refused profusely when he brought it up, had begged Jason all the way to the counter to let her just stay home, told him that she had no interest going anywhere that wasn’t walking distance from their apartment. But Jason had fate in her.

Which he is seeing now, with each lesson that they take, was greatly misplaced, that for the first time in a long time, he’s miscalculated.

“Try to relax, mouse,” Jason says through gritted teeth when the instructor’s advice doesn’t seem to be helping. The car lurches once more and Jason feels a migraine forming.

“I’m trying.” She’s tense. More tense than he’s ever seen her. Her shoulders are practically to her ears and her knuckles are white with how hard she’s gripping the steering wheel. She presses on the break too strongly and Jason chokes when the seatbelt snaps him back into his seat. “I just, couldn’t we do this with an automatic? I only have two feet.”

“It’s better to learn manual first,” the instructor says, tone kind but tired. It’s the same question every lesson. “If you can drive a manual, you can drive an automatic.”

“Also, you don’t use both feet in an automatic,” Jason adds.

“So, what you’re saying is—” She drives over a hump too quickly making the car and everyone in it jump. Jason thinks that this, this is probably how it felt to be in the back of the batmobile during that night. “What you’re saying is, I just can’t drive.”

“No, of course not—”

“Yes, mouse, you can’t drive. This was a bad idea. That’s on me,” Jason cuts the instructor off because he’s pretty sure any longer in the car he’s going to vomit. “Get out. I’ll take it from here.”

“Mr. Todd, I think—”

“Thank you!” She jumps out from her seat and Jason barely has a chance to tell her to look before she swings the door open. A speeding car zooms past them, slamming into her open door, tearing it off its hinges. She lets out a shriek and falls back into her chair just as a police car quickly follows, sirens wailing.

“Good Heavens! Are you okay?” The driving instructor looks like they’re about to pass out. Jason feels like his heart is going to jump out his throat.

“I’m fine.” She’s shaken but unharmed. Also, a little pissed off but that’s assuring in its own way. “Did you get the plate number of that jerk?”

“I’ll deal with it tonight,” Jason assures her when he feels like his heart is back to normal, steady and strong against his chest. “What did I say about checking before you open the door, mouse?”

“What did I say when I said I shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel?"

“Touché.”

...

a/n: lets just say the roads are safer without Mouse on them

#ficlet #oneshot #jason todd one shot #jason todd reader #jason toddxreader #arkham knight #arkham jason todd #arkhamverse

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garbagefarm · 1 year

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Garbage Farm (#45)

2023-05-07, Garbage Farm session number #45, spanning Year 4, Fall 7 through Fall 17

cast:

me (@mothmute)

E.B. (@salamand3rin)

Kimi (@2kimi2furious)

Experimenting with the format and listing them by day this time!

Fall 7:

Starting off with keg day!

The ducks still refuse to do the thing.

Liquidating my wine reserves

Coffee chest by the greenhouse!

Kimi will redecorate her house even if it kills her (it does)

died looking at the ikea catalog

E.B. hits level 10 fishing! angler or pirate? doesn’t matter, gonna respec for crab pots

(the first day of a session is always a little slow)

Fall 8:

Cranb day!

Elliott tells Kimi to come visit him if she ever needs a break, and that he’s usually at home

Kimi knows where you live, Elliott.

(also ... are you flirting with my farmhand?? I approve, get it 😘)

I make a brief excursion to the Skull Caverns

E.B. pays the weird looking dog statue to respec for crab pots

“ginger, or bones?” BONES BONES BONES B O N E S

Fall 9:

Bait-free crabbing!

Elliott “fed the animals” (meaning, the horrid ducks)

after I’m done with my chores, I go boning in the mines

Kimi collects the Frog’s nuts

(E.B. points out that it was the day of Boning and Nutting)

Fall 10:

They don’t deserve it, but I deluxe the ducks.

then I go boning again!

E.B. shows up, and kills enough skeletons that the valley feels a little safer (derogatory)

E.B. goes down the stairs into an unavoidable explosion, oops

We got the bones!!

New crystalariums set up in the mushroom cave, gotta make those coffee diamonds

Kimi wants matching bone shirts

rip E.B., died in her bedroom

New cow named Pumbo! their parent was named Jumbus or something but I didn’t write it down

Fall 11:

Jam day!

The walnut room is open (and the challenges suck)

Kimi gets a bone shirt!

Kimi wants to focus on the Skulls to try and get autopetters

(I spend a little time in the volcano and get a couple teeth)

Fall 12:

every time Kimi wakes up, her children are waiting for her

TWO BIG PUMPKINS! Screenshot is slightly delayed until E.B. can make a matching bone shirt (the cloth was in the cheese shed)

Screenshot at the big pumpkins!! (see gallery)

Managed to buy two ducks before Marnie clocked out— Mistake and Disappointing.

Kimi DIES dies, and Harvey charges her for it despite being a garbage-in-law

Fall 13:

Cranb day again!

E.B. replants the pumpkins

I make it to floor 72 while Skull Mining

(Kimi ran into me somewhere on the way down)

rip me, dead on my floor

rip E.B., too

Fall 14:

Bone mill recipe!

Jam day and keg day!

(Alex never skips keg day, he lifts them to stay fit)

Looks like only E.B. can make cheap copper crab pots?

Garbage Farm passes 10,000,000g!

Fall 15:

Elliott looks forward to the fair! (see gallery)

(These walnut room challenges suck, too)

I spend all day in the volcano and barely make it home after unlocking the caldera

Fall 16:

George mailed me some rocks. Thanks, George!

Fair day!

I don’t dare bring the forbidden shards for the grange, but, the normal kind should be fine

Kimi delayed due to cheese chores

We win the grange display! —and for once, we didn’t blackmail Lewis!

(at this point, they’re our lucky purple shorts, anyway)

INFINITE BURG (see gallery)

Jam day! (at night)

Fall 17 (non-canon):

We storm the mayor’s mansion and proceed to BOMB LEWIS REPEATEDLY

including hitting him with explosive ammo

while rubbing our grubby little hands all over the forbidden shards

TO-DO:

Add even more good-for-nothing ducks, in hopes that one of them will do the thing and make the horrid creatures halfway worth it

Continue ramping up Garb-ucks Coffee project

SKULLS! SKULLS! SKULLS!

auto-petters may be rare, but that won’t stop us

I need to keep adding kegs and preserves jars

Still thinkin’ about those tapped trees

Island Obelisk requires TEETH

(continue long-term self-supply and chef projects...)

make friends

Walnut room is open...... (but the current challenges suck)

Gallery:

Big pumpkins and matching skelly shirts! (screenshot credit to E.B.)

this man can’t say anything like an actual person would (and I love him for it)

INFINITE BURGERS (E.B.’s eyes might be closed, but I assure you she is also eating infinite burgers)

Hey Lewis! We’ve decided to start the “bomb Lewis” event! And you can’t stop us! (non-canon)

#garbage farm #stardew valley

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maddiwrites · 3 years

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Breathe With Me

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: After finding out who hurt you on that horrific night, JJ helps you through another panic attack and makes plans to protect his girl.

Note: This was requested a long time ago after a chapter of my rewrite was posted! Instead of doing JJ x OC, like requested, I changed it to JJ x Reader so that people who don’t read my rewrite can enjoy it too. Hopefully this is okay with ya’ll.

Word Count: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault!!! This chapter has descriptions of sexual assault. Please do not read if this is TRIGGERING!!!!

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Masterlist

It was another regular day on the island. Hot and crowded with tourists. With everyone working, you decided to tag along with JJ and Pope to delivery groceries for Heyward’s business. Usually this meant going to Figure Eight, your least favorite place to be. Normally it didn’t creep you out too much, but because of a rather recent incident, you didn’t like being there.

Right after your dad went missing, you spent a lot of time with Kie as she lived out her Kook Year. Avoiding the Pogues and John B and surrounding yourself with stuck up assholes and their expensive drugs and alcohol helped you forget about your own family crisis. You would do anything to take your mind off your dad’s disappearance even if it meant getting high on whatever was offered to you. You didn’t ask twice about what it was. You figured if the rich people we’re doing it, it couldn’t be that bad right?

One night you did a long line surrounded by Rafe and a couple of his buddies. Pretty much everything after that was a blur. Your memories are fuzzy, like a puzzle piece you can’t piece together. The last thing you remember is your black hitting something soft, like a mattress or a pillow. You thought you heard the zipper of your shorts being pulled down but figured it was Kie helping you change into a pair of pajamas.

The next morning you woke up practically naked with a blanket covering your bottom half and your bra pulled down to your stomach. You began to panic and ran your hands down your side, flinching at the tenderness by your hips. The skin was yellow/green and getting ready to bruise. Your breathing became shallow and your throat tightened up. You fumbled around the room you didn’t recognize for your clothes and slid them on, not caring what was backwards or inside out. You stumbled out the door and tip toed down the long staircase of the large house you were in. Figure Eight, you thought.

You didn’t go home first. You went to Kie’s house. Because your body ached. Because you wanted to cry but didn’t want John B or the other boys to hear you. Because you were afraid to be naked around anyone but another girl. The second she opened the door, you sobbed into her arms and told her what you think happened to you. Kie tried to get you to go to the police or even the hospital, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone knowing about what happened. Not even a stranger. Because you were embarrassed. You blamed yourself for this happening to you. You were high as fuck, trying to forget about your family troubles. You were the one to make yourself weak and vulnerable. No one else. Someone just took advantage of the position you put yourself in.

Kie didn’t pressure you. She wanted to support you in whatever decision you made, despite wanting justice for you and sending whoever the sleaze bag was to jail. She sat on the toilet and talked to you as you showered slowly. You spent most of the time staring at the wall and feeling ever inch of your body. You felt so dirty and no amount of soap or scrubbing could make you feel any cleaner.

You stayed at her house for a couple of days until John B eventually texted her because he was worried. You both decided it was time for you to go home, but you never told them what happened. You were afraid of what John B and even JJ would do if they found out. And the last thing you wanted was for either of them to get hurt or in trouble.

John B didn’t notice something was off as much as JJ did. He could tell you were being more quiet and reserved than usual. Your usual style of crop tops and jean shorts changed to sweats and baggy t shirts. You slept with your door locked and didn’t touch a single can of beer since you came home.

Moving on from that night was a slow and gruesome process, one you don’t know if you’ll ever fully recover form. Luckily for you, JJ was a great distracter. He was an amazing story teller, he could make you laugh with a small hand gesture, and his laugh could draw you in for hours. No one was surprised when the two of you eventually started dating. Not even John B, who was a little apprehensive about it at first.

To JJ, everything came to light when another make out session became heated. Like that morning, it became hard to breathe and your mind wandered off to what could have happened to you that night. In a blink of an eye, you were back in Figure Eight with someone pulling your zipper down. You could physically feel the bruises on your hips again and your skin burning.

A panic attack emerged and JJ was left confused and lost. Fortunately for you, he was quick to realize something was seriously wrong and helped you through it. He breathed with you and talked you down. When you were calm, you explained what happened. At first he was pissed. Pissed at whoever could have done this to you and even a little bit at you and Kie for keeping this from him. He was ready to charge out of the house, grab John B, and find the sick son of a bitch who would touch an unconscious girl. But your cries stopped him. He’s never heard pain in your voice like he did that night. It physically cracked his heart into a million little pieces and he dropped every instinct he had and stayed with you instead.

Since then, he’s been the most supportive and protective boyfriend. At every boneyard party, he would keep an eye out for any Kook that decided to show their face on your turf. He took note of anyone looking at you in a weird way. He carried the gun he stole from Scooter in his backpack for protection. He was serious about using it too. No one touches his girl and gets away with it.

Luckily, nothing happened between JJ and any Kook. No one made a move to talk to you or tease you. Kooks kept their usual distance from you, which not only made you feel better for yourself but because you didn’t want something to happen to JJ. You know the rules of the game of this island. Nothing bad ever happens to Kooks. They don’t know consequences.

When Pope docks his boat, he asks if you would come with him to drop groceries off at the Thorntons. If he did it alone, it would cause two trips and he doesn’t want to waste time.

As you go to agree, JJ steps in and shakes his head as he looks between you two. “I don’t think thats a good idea.”

“Why not?” Pope asks, completely clueless.

You subtly shake your head, silently begging for JJ not to say anything. Pope and John B still didn’t know and you want to keep it that way. Sure you would feel safer with JJ by your side, but you won’t be alone. You will be with Pope. And who would try to start something in the middle of the day anyway?

“It’s fine, J,” You tell him. You even try to joke. “I’m sure you’ll survive one hour without me.”

When you kiss his cheek, JJ turns to look at you with his brows pinched together with worry. “Y/N...”

“Seriously, J...” You say. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You whisper that last part as Pope turns to get the bags.

“You have your phone?”

You nod and pull it out of your pocket to show him. “Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

As JJ walks in the opposite direction of you and Pope, you feel the tension in your shoulders get tighter. The sight of these homes gives you flashbacks. The worst part about all of this is you don’t even know who hurt you. It could’ve been anyone - a touron even. It would be easier to know who did it so you know who to avoid.

Pope notices your change in behavior but doesn’t mention it. Instead he keeps a silent eye on you and studies your every movement.

As you pass the golf course, you hear a couple cat calls and cheering from a group of teenagers. When you look up, you see Rafe, Topper, and one of their friends making their way over to you. You take a step behind Pope, hiding behind his body and keeping your eyes trained down on your shoes.

“What do we have here?” Rafe whistles as he comes closer. He looks down at the bags in your arms and the beer in Pope’s hand. “Bring us something?”

“These are already paid for,” Pope glares at them.

“Oh, right, right,” Rafe nods as if he understands. Then he takes is golf club and swings it at the brown paper bag in Pope’s arms, causing everything to spill out of it.

“Dude!”

“Sorry, man!” Rafe holds his hands up in fake surrender. He leans down to pick up a beer bottle and tosses it to his tall friend. “Trevor, you feeling thirsty?”

The guy, better known as Trevor, cracks the beer open and takes a long sip. When he looks down, he spots you and eyes your figure up and down. Then he smirks to himself and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Like a piece of meat or someone he knows too much of.

Rafe catches his eye and smirks to himself. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. You and Routledge have some history.”

Pope looks over his shoulder at you and sees your chest rising and dropping at a quicker pace. You’re gripping the bags in your hands so tight that he can see your knuckles turning white. You look away from the group of Kooks at the golf course with a frown on your face. Something was wrong, Pope thought.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trevor chuckles. He looks at you again and tilts his head. “What? You don’t remember me?”

“Pope...” You feel like you’re choking. How could he know you when you have no idea who he is? You don’t like where this is going.

Trevor continues, “Can’t say I blame you. You were out of your mind wasted that night -”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pope says, looking between you and Trevor. He wasn’t one to get confrontational or angry, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. He didn’t like how you were acting. Something wasn't adding up. He knew you’ve hooked up with Kooks before, but this one was different.

“Almost as dead as her daddy,” Rafe chuckles. Something in Pope snaps and he pushes Rafe back by his shoulders. In retaliation, Rafe raises his golf club and smacks it against the middle of Pope’s back, causing him to fall down with a thump.

“Pope!” You cry and drop the bags you were holding and kneel next to him.

“Hey,” Trevor touches your shoulder to try and pull you away from the two fighting boys, but you flinch away from him.

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” You cry.

Trevor immediately holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. Your outburst causes everyone to freeze in their movements, even Rafe and Pope. The wheels in Topper’s head start to move a little quicker too. He looks between you and Trevor and feels off about your connection. You looked terrified. And Y/N Routledge was almost never terrified.

Even though you are outside, you feel claustrophobic. Your heart is beating so heavily against your ribcage that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to break your ribs. Pope notices you’re two shades paler and having a hard time breathing. Tears are silently falling down your face and you continue to crawl away form the group of Kooks backwards.

“Y/N...” Pope says quietly.

“We should go,” Topper says. He never hated you like some of the other Kooks did. Sure you never got along, but a small part of him thought you were cool. He knew something was extremely wrong and he couldn’t help but think it had to do with their friend, Trevor. He looks at Rafe who continues to stare at you with surprise. “Dude.”

“Yeah...” Rafe says slowly. “Trev, let’s go.”

The three Kooks scatter back to the golf course. You squeeze your eyes tightly and grip the fabric of your shirt, pulling it away from your body because right now it just feels suffocating.

“Hey.” Pope crouches down near you and lightly touches your shoulder. His touch feels like an electric shock, making you flinch even further away. When you open your eyes, you’re back in some random Kook’s house on a mattress you’re unfamiliar with. “They’re gone. Hey, they’re gone.” Pope tries to be gentle with you, but he also wants to get you out of here and in a more comfortable setting.

“JJ,” You manage to say. Your throat feels on fire. “I need J-”

Pope immediately starts fumbling for his cell phone and dials his best friend’s number. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently listens to the ringing. “Come on. Come on.”

JJ answers. “Hey! Sorry I’m on my way back now. You’ll never believe how much this lady tipped me. I swear I’m coming on every -”

“JJ, shut up and listen to me. Y/N...” He glances back at you and sees you’re hunched over with your forehead resting on your knees and your fingers through your hair. “She’s having a panic attack or something. I - I don’t -”

“Where are you?” JJ’s once elated tone has dropped to a more serious one.

Pope tries explaining what part of the golf course they are near.

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Pope, get her under some shade or something. And if you can, try to get her to look at you. She needs to open her eyes to see where she is.” Pope nods, forgetting that JJ can’t see him. “Pope!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, doing that now.”

JJ hangs up the phone so he can run faster.

Meanwhile, Pope crouches down in front of you again and says, “Y/N/N, hey. Can you open your eyes?” Pope lightly taps your ankles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” You slowly blink your eyes open and sniffle back the tears. Pope smiles when he sees he’s made some sort of progress. “Hey. JJ’s on his way. Why don’t we move you under some shade? It’s getting pretty hot out here. Can I help you up?”

You nod and let Pope help you up and bring you a couple feet away under a large tree. Your back rests against the bark and you try taking deep breaths to calm the swirling nausea in your stomach.

It was Trevor. It had to be Trevor. From the way he looked at you, to the innuendo Rafe made. You knew in your heart that it was Trevor who had hurt you that night.

A part of you always wanted to know who did this, but another part of you wished you never figured it out. Because now his face will haunt you forever.

About a minute later, you hear another set of footsteps quickly coming your way. You panic, your immediate thought going to Trevor. Would he come back?

But then you hear your boyfriend’s beautiful voice. “Hey.” His tone is soft and gentle. “Hey, baby. Look at me. It’s JJ.” You open your eyes and meet the lovely blue one’s you fell in love with. He grins at you and takes your hands in his.

“I’m so - sorry,” You sob, suddenly hating yourself for bringing this back up to your boyfriend and ruining Pope’s work routine. “I - I -”

“Hey,” JJ says and pulls your hands to his chest, palms down. “Remember what we did last time? Match my breathing, okay? Ready? Take a deep breath.”

Pope watches with awe silently from the sidelines. He’s never seen this side of either one of you. You so panic stricken and scared, JJ so intent with concern and intuitive.

You follow JJ’s breathing until you feel calm enough to breathe on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” JJ shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. You want to tell him. Of course you want to tell him. But you’re afraid of what happens next. You’re afraid of how JJ will respond.

“Rafe, Topper, and their friend Trevor jumped us,” Pope answers for you. Like JJ, he’s also curious about what happened. Of course he was there for the physical breakdown, but he wants to know more about what you’re going through emotionally.

“Did they hurt you?” JJ looks back at you and inspects every inch of your open skin for signs of scratches or bruises.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then...”

“I know who it was,” You say, your voice as soft as a whisper.

“What? You mean. -” JJ’s head snaps back and forth between you and Pope. “Who?”

You dip your chin into your chest to hide your tears as they start to flow again. You take a deep breath and look back up at your boyfriend. “Trevor.”

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” JJ looks at Pope.

Pope shrugs, “I don’t know. He was golfing with the other two Kooks.”

“Where’d they go?” JJ stands up, causing both you and Pope to follow him.

“No, JJ -” You try to pull him back to you but he slips his wrist out of your grip.

“JJ!” Pope calls out to JJ who walks in the direction the other three disappeared to.

“JJ, stop!” Your voice cracks which makes JJ turn around to look at you. “Please. I just want to go home.”

JJ freezes and bites down on his bottom lip, feeling conflicted. His head is telling him to run after the Kooks and beat every single one of their faces in until he finds the one named Trevor. But his heart is telling him to walk back to you and take care of you.

“Okay,” he decides and wraps his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After you fall asleep later that night, JJ tip toes out of your room and silently shuts your door behind him. You passed out early, exhausted from the panic attacks and crying. In the living room, Pope, Kie, and John B are waiting. You had no other choice but to tell John B what happened. Now that Pope knew, it felt wrong keeping it from your brother as well. Of course it caused an argument, but in the end, John B only wants the best for you and to protect you. Which is why they’re here now.

“Ready to go?” JJ looks directly at your brother.

John B holds up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Kie grabs John B by the elbow and glares at both of them.

“Where do you think?” JJ says.

When Pope and Kie stepped out of the room to check on you, JJ and John B both secretly decided that when you fell asleep, the two of them would sneak out and find this Trevor person and give him what he deserves.

“Don’t be stupid,” Pope says, looking between the two. “You know how this works. The two of you end up getting in trouble and he gets to walk away clean.”

“I don’t care. I’ll kill him -”

“You can’t,” Kie says.

“I’m not asking for your permission, Kie!”

“Where’s the gun?” Kie says. “If you’re going to do this, I’m not letting you bring the gun. Leave it here.”

JJ looks up at John B who reluctantly nods his head for JJ to give it up. The blonde sighs and reaches into the back of his waistband and pulls it out.

“This is a bad idea,” Pope says again even though he knows the other two don’t give a shit. In a way, he kind of respects it. He would go to if he didn’t have a scholarship to worry about.

“Keep an eye on her. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” John B says.

“You better hope you are. Because if you’re not, you’re only going to be making this worse for her,” Kie tells them.

Kie’s words have both John B and JJ rethinking their decision. But only for a split second.

JJ nods. “Don’t worry. I’d never leave my girl behind.”

#jj maybank #jj x reader #jj fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx imagine

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sameheart-sameblood · 3 years

Text

Live While We’re Alive

(gif by @rex-is-best)

pairing: commander wolffe x f!reader

summary: you thought being a newly recruited civilian doctor to the GAR was hard enough until you developed a hopeless crush on Commander Wolffe

words: 2.8 k

warnings: mature, some suggestive talk, mutual pining, medical exams, co-workers to lovers, a doctor having inappropriate thoughts about their patient

a/n: I started writing this awhile ago and then lost all creative motivation but I've been in a Wolffe mood the past few days and sad we didn't get to see him in The Bad Batch so here we are. I'd like to apologize to my doctor dad and all medical professionals everywhere lol. Also, I had intended for this to end in smut but then got lost in feelings so there mayyyy be a chapter 2. We'll see ;)

read on ao3!

You want to fuck him. It’s been decided. This realization couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. You’re surrounded by Jedi and Clone Officers in a very important meeting detailing your next mission. But you only have eyes for one of the men and he’s currently standing at the head of the room giving a briefing to the holo of Master Yoda. It’s a testament to Commander Wolffe’s presence that you barely notice the little green Jedi Master he’s conversing with. Well, his presence and his extreme handsomeness.

When you’d first met him, you’d been truly intimidated. The other women you worked with nodded in understanding, whispering they had been thrown off by his cybernetic eye and prominent scar. But that wasn’t it. You’d noticed those things, but that wasn’t what made you uneasy.

It was the fact that he took one look at you and seemed to see right into your soul. You couldn’t explain it but you felt like with just a glance, he could tell your deepest insecurities. And stars, did you have a lot of those.

You had worked your way up through the medical field and had started your residency at the biggest hospital in Coruscant. After your training ended, you had secured a permanent job there. It had been difficult, to say the least. Though you knew you were qualified, even more so than most of your male co-workers, you still doubted yourself often.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had come to visit you one nondescript Thursday afternoon, telling you of the need for doctors in the GAR. He said you came most highly recommended when he was searching for recruits but still, you thought a mistake had been made and that someone soon would realize and send you back to your normal life. It was a recurring nightmare you’d developed in the past few weeks that shook you from your sleep.

You had agreed to join the GAR, sympathetic to the cause and wanting to do your part. The next few weeks had consisted of you getting your bearings and meeting the rest of the staff at the base . Kix, the clone medic in charge, had helped you learn the ropes and had introduced you to all his brothers. At first, you had been overwhelmed by the sea of identical faces. As the weeks had gone on, you’d learned everyone’s names and they’d made you feel welcome, like one of their own.

The Commander and you had crossed paths several times. He was polite but distant. Not like you blamed him. He had more important things to do than exchange drawn out pleasantries. With each run-in, though, he seemed to be making more of an effort to be personable. Unfortunately, each conversation left you looking more and more like an idiot. Or a di’kut. The boys had been teaching you some Mando’a.

You were a medical professional, a well-respected doctor and yet Wolffe made you feel unsure of yourself. It had been so long since you’d had a crush that you didn’t realize this was what the beginning of one felt like.

*******

As you sit around the war room table, you feel even more like a school girl. Instead of paying attention to whatever Master Yoda is saying, you’re transfixed by Wolffe’s face. The hazy blue light from the holo reflects off his features, making him look ethereal. His scar looks even more prominent and you blush, remembering how often you’ve wondered what it would feel like to let your fingers trace it. And his lips. They’re moving, responding to whatever the Jedi has said. They’re mesmerizing and now you’re thinking of what it would be like to kiss him. Or even better yet, to have those lips pressed against the plushier parts of your body.

You continue to stare until you realize his face has turned to you. It probably only takes you a second to come back to reality but it feels like an eternity. Somehow you’re able to respond to the question.

“Yes, Commander. All medical personnel are prepared for an 0800 liftoff. Kix will take his team with the 501st and I’ll have my staff along with the 104th. We’ll reconnoiter once we’ve landed on Hisseen.” The rest of the table nods, moving the conversation along. Wolffe stares at you for a moment, a hint of a smirk on his lips. You avert your gaze, finding the table a much safer object of your attention.

The discussion wraps up and Wolffe stands at attention, puffing his chest out, before Master Yoda disappears. Once again, your eyes are drawn to him. You’re not sure how but he makes something so mundane look indescribably attractive. Wolffe’s head turns in your direction but you’ve already bolted from your seat, hoping to cool down in the hallway.

Kix pushes through the crowd to get to you. “Hey, Doc. How’d the meeting go?” You shrug. “Nothing new to report. Just making sure we’re all set for our campaign.” He’s shifting back and forth, a sort of glazed look in his eyes. You realize he’s not paying particularly close attention. It’s the look of someone asking you something just so they can request a favor in return.

“Hmm oh yeah, that’s nice. Say, Doc, do you think you could cover for me for a few hours? I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Since when is playing Sabacc with Fives and the boys urgent?”

“Since I remembered how terrible they are at it. I can make a real killing playing against them.”

You laugh. It’s true. You’ve come to love those men but a lot of them are really horrible at the game. You’ll need to give them a remedial course if you have any downtime on Hisseen. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” He rewards you with a huge grin. “Nothing hard! A few higher ups coming in for their physicals. Just the usual. Make sure they’re in tip top shape to get shot at by some tinnies.”

He gives you the list. It’s only a handful of men but the last one on it makes your blood go cold. “Commander Wolffe needs a physical?” Kix is oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Oh yeah, but he knows the drill. Honestly everyone can do it themselves at this point. We’re basically there to oversee it as a formality.”

You swallow down your apprehension and nod. “Sounds easy enough. Go have fun. And take it easy on them, will ya? Let them keep a little of their dignity intact” Kix just grins and shoots you a wave as he runs off.

*******

Your first few appointments go just fine. The officers are professionals and Kix was right, they could do these routine physicals with their eyes closed. You give them all your seal of approval and settle in to do your paperwork before your last, most anticipated patient arrives. The forms in front of you hold no interest and you find yourself checking the chrono every few seconds.

It’s not easy but you manage to finish your work. You set it aside and take steadying breath. Five more minutes and he’ll be here. You scold yourself. The Commander has never been anything but professional. You’re the one thinking these very unprofessional thoughts.

And you’re a doctor, for kriff’s sake. Your patients should be able to come to you without worrying you may be fantasizing about what they look like naked. But these are uncharted waters. It’s your first time having to deal with a patient you’re this attracted to. They really should take your medical license away.

Just as you’re thinking of packing it all up and handing in your resignation to the Jedi Council, a knock at the door snaps you to attention. Well, here goes nothing. You scold yourself once again for checking your reflection in the mirror before answering the door.

You had tried to adopt a passive, professional look to your face before greeting Wolffe but it must not have worked. “Everything alright, Doc? I’m not early, am I?” You shake your head.“Not at all. Punctual as always, Commander.” You beckon for him to come in and take a seat. You close the door, then sit across from him at your desk.

Your datapad hums to life and you busy yourself opening the appropriate forms you need to fill out. The weight of his eyes is heavy on you and your cheeks heat up in spite of yourself. You push on through as best you can.

“Well, Commander, how are you feeling today?” There’s that ghost of a smirk again but it vanishes so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it. “I feel like a million credits.” You giggle despite it not even being that funny. You’ve got it bad. “Glad to hear it. This should be quick then.” You gather your equipment and get to work.

First, you take his weight. Then, you listen to his heart. You press the stethoscope to his sternum, thankful you can do this over his blacks. He observes you the whole time. “And what about you? How are you today, Doc?” You risk a glance and meet his eyes. That was a mistake.

“Me? Oh-um just fine. Maybe not like a million credits but a few hundred at least.” You trail off dumbly but he humors you with a chuckle. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard that sound from him before. It’s like music to your ears. “Anything I can do to help? You do look a little flushed. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” You avert your eyes again.

“No. I’m alright. It’s just, uh, hot in these uniforms. The coarseweave doesn’t breathe.”

“You sure? Maybe I should be the one giving you a check-up.”

You realize he’s toying with you now.

“That won’t be necessary, Commander.”

You move on to check his lungs. “Breathe in for me.” You move the stethoscope to his chest, then move it around a few different spots on his back. “You can call me, Wolffe. If you’d like.” He breathes in every time, not even needing prompting, ever the dutiful soldier, even when he’s teasing you.

“I would like that. Thank you, Wolffe.”

Next, you measure his blood pressure. You’re shocked that it’s so low. He sees the look of surprise on your face. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. The opposite, in fact. Your pressures are great. I just thought with your lifestyle they might, understandably, be a bit higher.”

“What kind of lifestyle do you think I have?”

You’re backtracking as quickly as you can. “I just meant, your life as a soldier, it must be extremely stressful.”

There’s that smirk again. “It is. But you don’t get to be a Commander by not being able to handle the pressure.”

“Of course. But even so, if you’d like some stress relief techniques I can suggest some.” He hums as if really thinking it over. Thankfully there’s only one part of your exam left. Which is good because you’re not sure how much resolve you have remaining.

“Everything looks great. I’ll just do a head and neck exam and then I can send you on your way.”

You need to touch him for this part but you stop yourself, hands hovering but not quite meeting their destination. You feel like once you touch him, really feel his skin under your fingers, there may be no going back.

Wolffe sees your hesitation, then slowly reaches out to take your hands. You watch with wide eyes as he guides them to his neck. He looks up at you innocently enough but you can tell he’s laughing internally. You try to reign in control of the situation.

“Sorry, I just got distracted.” The Commander studies you but this time it’s in earnest. “Are you nervous? This’ll be your first time in an active war zone, right?” You had been anxious but not about that. But now that he mentions it, yeah, you honestly don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Yes, I’m not sure what to expect. I guess you could say I’m a little scared.” Wolffe gently holds your chin, directing you to look back at him. “I won’t lie. It’ll be overwhelming and frightening. Battles can seem never-ending. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You’re staring into each other’s eyes and you don’t want to stop. But then he’s clearing his throat and gently removing his hand from your skin. You realize you’ve been resting your own hands on his shoulders this whole time. “Thank you, Wolffe. I do feel much better knowing you’ll be there.” You offer him a smile, hoping it conveys just how much you appreciate him looking out for you.

You begin your exam, gently kneading where his neck meets his shoulders, checking for any anomalies. Then you move to his throat. The throat you’ve so often been distracted by. It’s featured prominently in your daydreams. You move your hands along it, under his jawline. Having a man this powerful baring one of the most vulnerable parts of his body to you is intoxicating. Focus, di’kut.

Everything feels normal except for some knots you find resting right below the surface of his smooth skin. “Lymph nodes feel good. You’re a little tense, though. But I bet it’s from that bucket you have to wear most of the day.” He hums in thought. “True. But even so. Maybe you could give me some of those ideas for stress management?” He looks up at you with big eyes. There’s mischief in them but something else. Vulnerability?

You gulp audibly. “Of course. There are a few that work particularly well, um, like deep breathing techniques, going on walks, talking with friends, meditation, journaling, physical activity…” You’re rambling, fighting a losing game against your resolve. Wolffe thinks on it. “Physical activity seems like a good place to start.” His hands come up to gently cover yours that are still resting on his neck.

The sensation of his calloused fingers on your skin sends shivers down your body. You close your eyes, feeling the last of your self-control topple over. “Wolffe,” you whine “We shouldn’t…” He immediately drops his hands, worry etched on his face. “I’m so sorry. It’s just- I thought you wanted-.” He cuts himself off, snapping up to his feet and to attention. “Doctor, you should report me to General Plo Koon for immediate disciplinary action.”

Dank Farrik, you’ve just ruined everything.“Wolffe! No, I’m not reporting you to anyone. If anything you should report me for being so unprofessional.” His shoulders relax a bit but he still eyes you as if you’re a live grenade that might explode at any second. “What do you mean?” You sigh in frustration. This isn’t how you wanted to confess your feelings to him.

“I…want you, Wolffe. The second I realized that I should have asked to be re-assigned to a different battalion. Instead I thought I could push those feelings down and continue to do my job. Looks like that was a mistake.” You hang your head, avoiding his piercing gaze. He’s silent for just a moment but it feels like an eternity.

“So, you want me and I want you?” You nod your head, ashamed, as he continues. “Then what’s the problem, Doc?” Your eyes snap to his, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Isn’t it wrong of us?”

Wolffe sits down on the exam table again, genuinely thinking on it. “I don’t see why. We’re both consenting adults. We don’t work directly with each other- I report to General Koon, you report to General Kenobi- so there’s no real conflict of interest. The worst we’ll face is a little ribbing from the boys if they find out.”

You raise your head to look him in the eyes, needing to make sure he’s serious and that this isn’t some twisted joke. What you find staring back at you is hope and promise. He senses your trepidation and gently takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry if I came on strong. But the thing about this life is that there are no guarantees. Tomorrow isn’t promised and so I figured I’d rather go for something, someone, that I want and have my heart broken rather than regretting my inaction.”

Your eyes roam the scars on his face, evidence of just how true his words are. You’re heading into active battle tomorrow. One or both of you could be injured, or worse. You step towards him. He spreads his legs so you have room to get closer. You rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

His hands come up to caress your sides. You take a shaky breath. He questions you softly. “Cyar’ika?” Ah, now that’s one of the new words you definitely remember. His vulnerability makes you ache and the decision to hand your heart over is an easy one. “You’re right, Wolffe. Might as well do some living while we can.”

*******

#commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #instead of becoming a doctor like my family wanted i decided to just write about being one who's slightly inappropriate instead #tcw fanfic #tcw #allie writes #my writing

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smellslikemultifandomimagines · 3 years

Note

I have a request for a smut for Mitch Rapp and a fem!reader: basically enemies to lovers. They (think they) hate each other but in reality they just REALLY wanna shag each other (Stan kinda suspects it). The seggssual tension between them grew to the point where neither can take it anymore and they shag! That's it for the plot. Feel free to make it the filthiest piece of filth that has ever seen the filth of day. They can punch the other, kick the other, pull the others hair! I am a okay with either of them getting staped. Biting and scratching are on the table. They can use fire... I hope you can turn this to a smut for me. I really enjoy reading your smuts!

also:

pairing: mitch rapp x fem!reader

warnings: smut → seggsual tension that can be cut with a knife, oral (male receiving), degrading kink, rough penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it).

word count: 1.4k

a/n: ahh omg i love the b9-9 reference!!

+ i've added this other request here too bc they had the same vibe to it - hope that's okay anon!

++ also [y/l/n] means your last name (but i think we've all read fanfics long enough to know that lmao)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests for the sleepover are open🖤!

request guidelines here✨!

smut night masterlist

🌻masterlist🌻

taking in Mitch’s attire for the first time that night, it was apparent to you that Mitch was quite the attractive man.

But Mitch rapp was anything but attractive. He was repulsive. Rude. Had nearly gotten you killed so many times on a mission due to his inability to stick to plans, especially if they were made by you.

His tie hangs lose around the white collared button down shirt. His blazer thrown onto the couch that he planned to sleep on. Stan suggested that you share a room, never knowing nor predicting when the bad guys could attack. It was better, and safer, for the two of you to stay together.

Slipping the tie from around his neck, he throws it to wear his blazer lays, his eyes darting up to you. You, sitting cross-legged on the bed, quickly averted eye contact. You hear a slight huff of amusement coming from him, which only makes you roll your eyes. God, what you would do to share a room with literally anyone but him.

Your pj shirt hung low on your chest - almost a little bit too low. Mitch, for only a second, glances at your cleavage. His mind wanders into places he’s never really though that hard about before. He wanders what it would be like to suck those perfect tits of yours. If it wasn’t for the tv, he would’ve made an awkward coughing sound to release some of the built up tension in the room. You can feel the tension too. Building and building. The room getting hotter with each breath you took. You stand from the bed, going over to the small tea station to turn on the kettle.

“Want some tea?” You ask, not daring to look at him. For some unknown reason, you’re afraid to.

“sit.” He demands, his eyes glaring into you with such intensity. You return the glare, clenching your jaw as he nods to the bed.

“Why?”

“We need to talk about what happened today-"

“We have nothing to talk about. You did your usual shit and I did mine.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

“Like what? At least I’m not the one trying to get us all killed,” you spat, folding your arms over your chest. Mitch stalks over to you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Say that again. I dare you,” his voice is so low, you’re not sure if it scares you or turns you on.

“You always try to get us killed. That’s why your plans never work." you try so hard not to falter your voice, but he’s making it so difficult when he’s standing in front of you, with such a dominant demeanour, you thought you might as well submit to him now. He knocks your legs apart with his knee.

“Same could be said about you. Just remember that,” he growls in your ear. Without thinking, you grab him by the collar and thrash him down on the bed beside you. You stable him, pinning his wrists beside his head.

“Now, miss feisty. Might want to save your energy for tomorrow,” he chuckles, not even the least surprised that you’ve just done that.

“Don’t patronise me, rapp. You’re lucky I don’t just kill you now,” you purr in his ear, feeling his hips knock against yours. The feeling of his hardening cock poking at your thigh is something you’d never thought you’d ever get to experience with him.

Mitch flips you over, you know the grip on your wrist is going to bruise. "don't forget that i'm just as capable, darling."

roughly, he pushes off you, unzipping the pants of his suit. His jaw clenched, skin so hot and heated you can see the veins protruding through his hands.

"suck." he demands through gritted teeth. Your jaw drops as you just stare at him. he couldn't be serious? His eyebrows raise in anticipation - the same look he gives our targets when they try and plead their case to let them live.

You sigh, pushing yourself off the bed and onto the floor. Your hand pumps his cock up and down slowly, wanting to test the waters a little bit - or so you told yourself.

"[y/n], dont." he spits out, roughly gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Without needing to be told twice, you take him in your mouth, gagging as he thrusts into your mouth. he couldn't even for a second let you be in control. typical man.

You bob your head faster, moaning around him at the tight grip he still has in your hair.

"you like when im rough with you, huh? you dirty little slut." His jaw clenches as you clasp your hand around his wrist. "get up."

you do as you're told, and stand on your feet. Roughly and hasty, he practically rips your pjs off before pushing you on the bed.

"don't make me get the tie, [y/l/n]," he smirks as he hovers over you. You gulp and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a rough kiss. He may be on top, but you can still be in charge.

HIs hand snakes down between your bodies, teasing and toying at your clit. He pinches it gently, clenching his jaw to restrain a dark laugh as you breathe heavily against him, not wanting to make a sound. you were not about to give him that satisfaction.

his calloused fingertips circle heavenly around your clit. He wants you to at least let out one moan, and he was going to make you do it - whatever it takes.

He leans back, eyes burning into your soul as he watches you. You bite your tongue from within your mouth, restraining every ounce of your body to not contort in pleasure.

"i could make this easy for you, you know. you're choice," he arches an eyebrow in amusement, his finger slipping into your entrance with such ease.

"oh please," you scoff, rolling your eyes in annoyance - although you're sure it was from the pleasure rather than his haughtiness.

"fine," he practically rips his hand away, you bottom lip immediately receding into your teeth to control the whines that wanted to come out. He wasted no time in lining himself up at your entrance. You look at him with pleading eyes, to which he catches before he slides in.

His thrusts are slow at first, wanting to tease you as much as possible.

"oh come on. even i can do better than that," you challenge, pushing him off before straddling his hips. You sink down on him, his hands on your ass. He kneads them before slapping hard as you bottom out. An unexpected yelp slips from you, followed a dark chuckle comes from him.

You bounce roughly on him, leaning back on your hands as they rest on his thighs. His hands trail all over your body, wanting to explore very inch possible. He'd never admit it, to himself or especially you, but he's always wanted to do this. So of course, he's not wasting any opportunity. as far as you've both silently agreed, this is a one time thing.

Mitch slaps your breast, causing another yelp to escape from your swollen and desperate lips. You sink all the way down on his cock until he's completely inside you, before gyrating your hips. Both of you moan loudly, the pleasure feeling all too right to not let out a sound.

Roughly, mitch picks you up and places you on the bed next to him before he holds your legs up to his chest. He thrusts into you and fucks you hard - slow, but hard.

"fuck, oh my god," you give in to the pleasure, his cock feeling all too good not to.

"see, that wasn't so hard was it?" Mitch's malicious teasing causes you to roll your eyes but once again let out a moan. the wall takes it from the bedframe, thumping intensively with each hard thrust of his hips. Both of you couldn't control your moans, and it was only a matter of time before the next door guests came knocking on the door to complain.

The two of you are close - much closer than either of you liked to be. Mitch knew it too, from the way you clenched around his cock, you moans becoming louder and more high-pitched. He spreads your legs apart, which you gracelessly wrapped around his waist to draw him in closer. His hand, once again slips between you both and rubs your clit in circles.

"mitch..." you breathe, scratching your nails mercilessly down his back.

"let it go, babygirl," he grunts before leaning down towards you ear. "at least i'll have the satisfaction of making you cum."

"don't get too cocky now. I'm still not finished with you yet."

#mitch rapp #mitch rapp smut #american assassin #american assassin smut #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x reader smut #smut night #1k+ followers sleepover

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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oitommothetease · 3 years

Text

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it.

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends.

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee.

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did.

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it.

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out.

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

"It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out.

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked.

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought.

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit.

"Okay, I understand.”

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-”

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently.

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

"Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions.

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

"Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat.

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?”

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately.

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did.

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now.

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

“I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.”

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on.

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running.

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.”

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything.

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office.

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you.

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

“Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

And that's when you noticed.

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced.

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days.

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

"No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night.

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally.

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes@goodcleanfunsis @valsworldofcreativity

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her-world-on-fire · 3 years

Text

Kisses in the Corridor {Tim Drake x Reader}

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 3,604

Request: Could you please write a tim x reader fic where the reader is a superhero (I was thinking like Barry Allen’s kid and the new Kid Flash) and is also Tim’s s/o and maybe Bruce and/or the Flash catch them having sex? 💜

2s. “stop before someone sees!" & 4s. "ten? i only need five."

WARNING NSFW MATURE CONTENT 18+ Tim and reader are 18

I WOKE up to the sound of a loud buzzing. I moved away from Tim’s grip and reached on the nightstand for my phone. I looked back at Tim, he held the same peaceful expression. I squinted at the caller ID and immediately sat up. I tried to be as gentle as possible, not to wake Tim. He was normally a very light sleeper, but he was sleep deprived. I pushed the blankets off and moved out of the room. I gently opened the door and snuck out into the hallway. I looked down at the caller ID once more to be sure before I answered.

DAD

“Dad? It’s 3am, what’s going on?” I whispered, I heard a rustling in the background. There was some kind of conflict, but I couldn’t quite make it out. After a few moments there was silence, then a heavy sigh.“I need your help.”

“What’s going on?” I moved down the hall trying my best to be quiet. “I’m going to send you some files. I need you to get Tim to decrypt them.”

“Okay send them to me and I’ll have him look at them as soon as he wakes up.” I heard a pause from the other side of the line. “When he-” He paused. “He’s with you right now?” I hadn’t exactly mentioned that I had moved in with him. As far as he knew I was still staying with in the house with the others. I faked a yawn. “I gotta go dad, love you.”

I quickly hung up and moved back into the bedroom. I got back into bed and Tim shifted slightly. I moved closer and he put his arm around me again.

I woke up and found Tim looking up at the ceiling. “Did you sleep okay? I noticed you got out of bed last night.” He turned to me, and I sighed. “Sorry I thought I was being quiet.” He chuckled, “Work hazard. Don’t worry about it.” I sat up and grabbed my phone. “Well it was my dad.” He squinted his eyes. “Why did he call you at 3am?”

“He wanted me to send you some files he needs decrypted.” I handed him my phone and showed him the files. He hummed and sat up. “I’m sorry I know you just finished your project-” He shook his head and get out of bed. “I really don’t mind. I’m sure your father wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.” Tim grabbed his laptop and connected my phone. We moved into the bathroom and got started on our morning routines.

Tim’s was straight forward, he wanted to brush his teeth and get to work. I on the other hand had a few steps. I tried to make Tim do them with me as much as I could. “Come here.” I grabbed his face and massaged a gentle cleanser. Wearing masks almost every night didn’t work wonders for out skin. He waited patiently until I was done. I applied some moisturizer, “All done.”

He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. “I’ll get the coffee started.”

-------------------------------------------------

Tim spent most of the day working on the files. When it was time to leave for patrol I had to pry him from the computer. “It’s time already?” I nodded and moved to get up. He stretched and then looked around.

I held out his suit and he sighed in relief. “What would I do without you?” He pulled his shirt over his head. My eyes raked over his toned chest. He had come a long way. He used to be lanky, but he had put on a lot more muscle in the past two years. Whatever shape he was in, I loved him.

Truth be told I was still getting used to his chiseled features. I gave him once last glance. “If I stay here any longer we’re going to be late.” I handed him his suit and moved out of the room. I grabbed my phone and noticed a missed call.

DAD: I’ll be by Friday afternoon, Bruce needs me to speak at his proposal. Looking forward to talking to Tim.

As if Tim didn’t have enough on his plate. I still had another 3 days to prepare Tim. I decided to tell him tomorrow. I put my phone down and Tim emerged from the bedroom. We met Dick at the coordinates he gave us. Dick left for the night leaving the two of us in charge. Tim had wired the police scanners to our headsets. The night moved slowly.

That was until the 3rd hour.

“10-44. Any units between 4th street and Palmdale?” Tim and I exchanged looks, stolen vehicle. We were only a few minutes out. Tim used his grapple, seeing as we were nearby. I got there a few minutes before him. “How bad is it?” The scanners had grown more chaotic. This wasn’t a normal stolen vehicle situation. We learned that there were children inside the car when it was taken. On top of it all, the driver was intoxicated. “Can you send out an alert and clear the next two blocks?”

“Done.”

I kept up with the vehicle, doing my best to move civilians out of the path. With the alert Tim had sent out. I was going to get inside the vehicle and stop the driver. “He’s approaching a construction site. You’re going in blind, the city hasn’t updated the maps.”

“Send an ambulance, and make sure the police don’t go into construction.”

“Y/N-” Tim’s voice said sternly. He was too far behind to do anything. “Be careful.”

“Always am.” Now that there were no civilians in the way, I was going to have to get the children out first. He was nearing the end of the map. I moved in and saw two children in the backseat. I needed to take them one by one. It was safer, their bodies weren’t meant to undergo high velocities. I needed to protected them from whiplash.

The first child was a beautiful chocolate haired boy. “Okay, where are you Tim?”

“Magnolia.” He replied immediately. I took the boy and ran him to Tim. By time his older brother blinked I was back. I left them both with Tim and rushed back to the driver. By now he knew that something was going on. He sped up. “What are you doing?” Tim’s worried voice came over the headset. “They’re safe.”

“He could get away.” I used every ounce of my stamina to catch up. I caught up and moved inside the car. I tried to take control, but he wasn’t giving up. The site was less than a mile away. As it grew closer, I saw it was the outline of a building.

If he breached the gates he wouldn’t have time to stop. He would drive through the building’s foundation, which wasn’t secure. It would crumble onto of us. His hand moved to the gun he had by his side. He slammed the gun into the side of my head. I felt the warmth trickling down the side of my face. I threw a punch and felt it connect. He fired a shot and moved my head back. He missed. I lifted my head back up and took the gun. and tossed it in the back seat. I looked up, it was too late. We were almost inside the building.

Tim was screaming in my headset. He heard the gunshot. I opened the door and pulled the driver out. I looked in front of us, the building slowly started to crumble. There was still a chance. There was a small opening where the building hadn’t caved in yet.

I had to make a choice. I needed to risk taking him and him slowing me down. Or I could leave him and get out, guaranteed. I had a fraction of a second to decide. I took one look at him and decided to risk it. I held on too him and used all my strength to reach the opening. I was exhausted. Just catching up to him when he was miles ahead had taken it out of me. Now I was bleeding, and drained.

I thought about Tim. Memories of us flashed inside my head. I mustered enough strength to run. I threw the man out and then jumped out of the opening. On impact, I knew something wasn’t okay. I had landed on my shoulder. “Tim.”

He was just outside the gates.

-------------------------------------------------

Luckily my body worked hard to fix the broken bone. Being a speedster came with its perks. Fast metabolism, and healing. By the time Bruce’s proposal came around, my wounds were almost completely healed.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Tim asked once more, hands on either side of my face. “I’m fine Tim. I promise. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He sighed, he had seen the x- rays. Physically I was fine. “Fine but if you start to feel even just a headache, we’re coming back.” I nodded and he looked over my face again.

I stuck out my hand and he placed a kiss on it before intertwining our fingers.

We arrived right on time. Tim’s part of Bruce’s proposal was one of the first points. He had to go set up in Bruce’s office. “I’ll be right back.” He took his files and rushed up to the office. I joined Dick, Jason and Damien in the lounge. “Hello, boys.”

They looked up and Dick’s eyebrow’s knitted together. “Are you even supposed to be out of bed?” I laughed, “Dick it was just my shoulder. I’m fine.” Damian snickered at his brother. Dick looked at between his brothers. Jason had a smirk on his face. “What?”

“Speedster. They heal 20 times faster than us.”

“He got promoted to lead of the biotech department of Wayne Enterprises a few weeks ago.”

The boys bickered. My eyes scanned the room for my father. He was incredibly hard to miss. “I’ll be back.” The boys didn’t even turn in my direction. I walked to the other side of the lounge. He turned to me and then patted his college on the shoulder. He approached me, a big smile on his face. “Hey dad.” He opened his arms and pulled me in for a tight hug. I groaned, “Little too hard.” I gasped and he let go. “Sorry, I just haven’t seen you much.”

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been meaning to visit.” He nodded and looked around. “Where’s Tim?” I pointed to Bruce’s office. “He’s setting up.” My father raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know he was part of the presentation.”

“Wow. That’s fantastic.” He genuinely was impressed. After all he had a background in bio medicine. He knew how hard the work was. “We’ll I’d love to talk to him about it.” I laughed, of course he did. “You can come by our place after and I’m sure he’d talk your ear off.” He turned to me. His eyes narrowing.

Realization struck, and I cursed internally. Eventually I was going to have to tell him, but I was hoping back at home. In front of family and witnesses. Before he could say anything. There was an announcement on the overhead speaker. We were ushered as the presentations were about to begin.

-------------------------------------------------

Tim did fantastic as expected. He kept the crowd engages and said everything perfectly. He approached me as he walked off of the stage. I clapped along with the crowd. He greeted me with a kiss. “You did amazing Tim.” We walked to the back of the room. He didn’t want to interrupt anyone. He gestured for the door. He took my hand and I followed after him. We closed the door behind us and stood in the corridor. Tim let out a deep breath.

He still wasn’t used to speaking in crowds, and this was a lot larger than he was used to. “Are you alright?” He nodded, “I’m glad it’s over.” He moved to take off his tuxedo jacket. I watched as his arms contracted. He slowly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular arms.

He put his jacket over his arm and looked over at me. A small grin on his face. “What?” I shook my head and sighed. “How much longer is this?” He looked at the clock. “We still have another hour.” I looked up at him. His piercing blue eyes were fixated on mine. His hair wast neatly parted down the middle, every strand perfectly combed in place. He moved closer and put his hand over the wall near my head. “What’s got you all flustered Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, my eyes fixated on his lips. “You, Drake.” He smirked and pressed his lips against mine.

Barry looked around the room, and noticed the absence of Y/N and Tim. He turned to Bruce. “Where are they?” Bruce looked around. No sigh of them. He looked at the cameras on his watch. He didn’t see them. Bruce shook his head. The two got up and moved into the lounge. Damian, Jason and Dick were there for security. He knew no one would get past them unnoticed.

“Have either of you seen Y/N and Tim?” Bruce asked. Dick and Jason looked at each other and then shrugged. Bruce sighed, so much for security.

“I think I saw them go-” Damian spoke nonchalantly. He looked in front of him, behind Bruce and Barry Dick and Jason were trying to tell him something. Quite frankly, they looked like idiots. They were shaking their heads violently waving their arms back and forth. Damien squinted as he tried to read the boys lips. Dick mouthed something he couldn’t quite make out. Bruce and Barry exchanged looks, they turned around and saw Dick and Jason conversing casually.

“Damian?” Jason motioned for him to keep his lips zipped. A smirk grew on Damian's face. He wanted to see it all play out.

Dick and Jason tried. They weren’t quite sure what they were up to but they knew it was nothing good. They tried to stay in Tim’s good graces, in the blink of an eye Tim could hack everything they owned. As for Y/N, they knew there would be no escaping. Y/N could catch up to them anywhere. In short, they didn’t want to piss either of them off.

They had noticed their brother couldn’t keep his hands off of his date. They were two hyperactive teenagers, it didn’t take rocket science to figure it out. They watched as Damian’s smirk grew. He hadn’t figured it out but he knew it would get Tim in trouble and that was enough for him. “They went down the hall and up the elevator.” Bruce gave a short nod and the two went off.

“Well, we tried.” Jason shrugged, and took a swing of his drink. He wasn’t going to deny that watching Tim get his ass kicked by a speedster wasn’t funny. “Should’ve choked the little bastard.” Dick sighed, the two could only wait.

-------------------------------------------------

“Tim.” I let out a shaky breath, trying my hardest to keep quiet. “Stop before someone sees!" We were in a building full of people, at any moment someone could walk down the corridor. Tim chuckled against my neck, “You really want me to stop?” I bit my lip, he was right. I didn’t want him to stop. I was just worried about being caught. “The next presentation starts in 10 minutes.”

"Ten? I only need five."

At this point I threw all common sense out of the window. I took his hand and we were in his office in seconds. I had closed the door behind us. Tim smirked, “In my office? You little-” I interrupted him by kissing him. My hands moved from his hair and down to his suit. I quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt, and my hands moved to unbuckle his belt.

Without breaking the kiss i discarded his dress shirt on the floor. His hands moved to remove my clothing. We broke away for a moment to catch our breaths. He picked me up and moved us to the couch. His lips reconnected to mine once more. I straddled his waist and moved against him for friction. My hands moved back down to the waistband of his boxers. I pulled them down and ran my hands up and down his length.

He let out a groan. “Fuck.” He got rid of the rest of my clothes throwing them across his office. I didn’t waste time in scolding him. I lowered myself down onto his length. We both let out a sigh, all of our pent up frustrations released. Tim’s hands moved back to my waist. He lifted me and then slammed me back down onto himself. I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet. His lips moved down to my neck, leaving wet kisses before moving to whisper in my ear. “They’re all down stairs, I want to hear you.”

Tim loved hearing vocalization, he couldn’t get enough. He knew every part of my body. He knew exactly what to do to get what he wanted. He speed up, and hit just the right spot. I gave in. “Oh god.” We were both breathing heavily. Sounds of pleasure overtook the room. Our bodies moved against each other hungrily. Tim smirked as he moved back to my neck. He moved right to my sweet spot. “Fuck,Tim.”

I dug my nails into his shoulders, leaving small red lines, He pulled away from my neck, satisfied by his work. His lips moved back to mine and speed up again. I felt a growing knot in my stomach each time he moved in and out. Sensing I was close he sat up and took control. He thrusted up into me, over and over, and I grew louder each time. “Please, Tim.” I could feel his thrusts becoming more sloppy, he was close. My orgasm came soon after, my body gave out. I shook against him. He helped me ride out my high. He came and I felt his warmth spread in my core.

“Y/N are you okay-” The door burst open, in the heat of the moment I had forgotten to lock it. Luckily Tim reached for his shirt. He quickly used it to cover me. “I thought you were hurt or dear god.” Barry looked at the ceiling, trying to avert his gaze.

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE!” Bruce’s voice echoed off the walls. Surely the boys down stairs were snickering. “In your office of all places.” He rubbed his hand across his face. Neither of us knew what to say. “Get dressed. Now.” Bruce said sternly before slamming Tim’s office door.

We moved off of each other and tried to find our clothes. Of course Tim in desperation had scattered my clothes. I was kind enough to leave his nicely by the couch. We quickly got dressed and opened the door. Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. Barry glared at Tim.

“Hey dad.” I smiled nervously, he sighed deeply. “I don’t even know where to start. I’m so-”

“Did you finish uploading the files before you-” Bruce couldn’t finish the sentence, Tim pulled the hard drive out his pocket and handed it over. “Go.” He waved us off and I watched as he placed a hand on my father’s chest. I motioned for Tim to go, and I approached my father. Bruce looked between us and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He nodded, a silence washed over us. Neither of us sure what to say. Finally, he broke the silence. “So, you really love him?” I looked back at Tim who was having his talk with Bruce. I smiled and nodded. “I really do.” It gave Barry comfort. He had seen the strength of the connection when he first met Tim a year ago. He knew that they were growing up, it was inevitable. After all, he was a teenager once. He knew what it was like to be deeply in love. For now, all he could do was try and forget this ever happened. Tim approached us. I looked back and forth between the two. For a long moment there was just silence. The two held eye contact. “I expect to see you during the holidays Timothy.” Tim nodded, “Of course sir.”

We went back down stairs. Damian snickered, and Tim shot a glare at his brothers. Dick and Jason pointed to their youngest brother. “If either of you breathe a word...” Tim trailed off, his threat looming. His older brothers nodded. “And you,” He turned to Damian. “I’ll end you.” I placed my hand on Tim’s chest. He backed away and stood up straight. “You know he-”

“Thank you for the drive, you helped save a lot of people.” And with that he was off. Tim breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought he was going to kill me.”

“I know. In time, let’s just get through this.” Tim sighed, “Fine.”

MASTERLIST

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#Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader smut #tim drake smut #batman #Red Robin #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #red robin smut #red robin x reader smut #batboys #batfamily #Bat Family

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matchablossomwrites · 3 years

Note

Well, here I am hehe, I would like to ask for an imagine with Chifuyu, angst to comfort if it possible The reader is in a difficult situation, with some anxiety attack (if it does not bother you obviously) and he is there to help her- <3 I hope that information is useful!, I wish you a good day or night hehe, some love and hugs <3 <3 Take care!

hey hey hey! Thank you so much for your request first off bestie luv you and 2nd off just know I'm here to help! I was diagnosed by a doctor with GAD and like I can teach you tips and tricks that help! Just know you're not alone in this fight and I hope you have a splendid day/night

You were stressed. it was obvious from just a side glance that you weren't doing ok.

All the noise from the gangs. the yelling, the fighting. it was getting tougher by the minute. your pulse increased and you were beginning to hyperventilate.

it was going to happen any minute now and the battlefield of a gang rivalry wasn't the best place to have a panic attack.

Just how did it get like this again... oh that's right

It started out small. something simple even. a few threats from Tenjiku. nothing you knew Mikey and your best friend Chifuyu couldn't handle.

However things went south when gang members of Toman came back injured. That's truly where the stress began. It grew increasingly worse when your friends had been hurt. It didn't help that Mikey agreed to go to war with them. You tried to argue against it, but he insisted.

That's what led you here. Unable to help, your world feeling like it was crumbling down on you second by second. Being unable to breathe as you tried to fight back against classmates and friends alike.

You knew these boys. You had gone to school with the Haitani's before you transferred and still kept in touch.

Yet here they were, right in front of your eyes socking your friends left and right; bruising and bloodying them.

wake up. wake up. wake up. wake. up.

This has to be a nightmare, right? This has to be all a bad dream. You'll wake up any minute. You were sure of it.

But what confirmed that this was all real was the wailing of Souya. That's when you knew hell had broken loose and you didn't know what to do.

your best friend died. your bestie's crush wasn't able to cope, and you were left in charge of some things like they were gone, thus bringing you here.

No mercy was shown from either parties as you got worse. shaking like a leaf, biting your lip raw, your mouth as dry as the Sahara, and when you did talk it came out in stutters.

What was he thinking? you weren't good enough. you were gonna kill them. this was your fault. your fault. your fault. your fault. all of it- all because of you.

Chifuyu noticed your current state the moment he set eyes on you.

But, he needed to stay here at least until backup came right? he couldn't just abandon Toman. They weren't fairing well and they needed every last fighter they could get. But... you. What about you? He wanted to help you. hold your poor shaking form in his arms and comfort you should you allow it. hum to you so you'd feel safer in his arms as he calmed you down. a warm cup of tea next to you, blankets wrapped around your still slightly trembling figure as he took care of you.

The moment Mikey came, he already knew what was going on since he'd passed you in your current state. Knowing how much he cared for you, Mikey gave Chifuyu a look as if to say 'go. take care of them. treasure them because you never know how much time you have before they disappear like they did'

So, he sprinted to you the moment he got a chance. When he reached you you were looking about frantically. Flinching and gasping when someone came too close to your personal bubble while you still attempted to fight. This, obviously wasn't working in your favor.

Chifuyu carefully approached you, making sure not to startle you when he did so. He every so gently took your hand and led you away from the noise. Once you were finally at his house, which just so happen to be quite close, you broke down crying.

"Chi... Fuyu I failed them. I failed them. I failed Mikey. I failed Angry. I failed you." you sniffled as you attempted to stop, but with all the stress and anxiety, your walls came crashing down like a waterfall.

Chifuyu stayed silent. That was the only thing he knew what to do in this situation. He then listened to you rant about everything, not uttering a single word, only sitting across from you.

Once he felt you were ok, he spoke up softly. "You didn't fail anyone y/n. I promise. you're not a failure. Mikey doesn't think so either. he knows you miss them too. He thought you could handle it though, since you're a strong, intelligent person." he smiled softly.

"B-But S-Souya and hakkai..." you whimpered thinking back on them. "It's alright. they're fine, I promise. Y/n did Mikey ever make mistakes in battle and let his members get injured?" he asked. "Y-Yes..." you stammered. "Mhm. Do you ever think he looks back and wishes he could change the outcomes of those things?" Chifuyu asked. "Maybe.. I just don't know." you shook your head. "that's right. One thing I do know about Mikey though is the fact that he loves Toman with all his heart and if you or anyone for that matter got hurt, he wouldn't be able to live with the guilt"

You thought about it, but your mind was still in a vicious cycle of pain. So, as any sensible person would do, he decided Peke J would help. When he quickly got up, picked Peke J off his bed, and then placed the adorable cat in your lap. The adorable cat sense no threat from you, so he curled up in your lap and decided to go back to sleep. "you can pet him, petting him always helped me when I was having a tough time." he said softly as he took your shaking hand in his before guiding it to the cat.

Soon you fell into a rhythm while petting Peke J, soon causing purrs to slip from the kitten in your lap. Though this did help, it didn't entirely dissipate your worries. You abandoned your team. You were awful. They hated you. Mikey hated you now. You were going to be kicked out since you couldn't follow your orders. Smiley got hurt because of you. it was all your fault. Your fault, your fault, your fault, your-

"You did just fine. I promise" he murmured. "w-what?" you asked barely above a whisper. "It wasn't easy. I can't imagine the kind of pressure you felt, but I promise you did fine." Chifuyu leaned forward. "It wasn't your fault that they got hurt. They're not mad at you. You carried out orders just fine." he said as Chifuyu held your hand with both of his calloused, bruised hands. "W-We abandoned them though. Right in the middle of all of that no less. M-Mikey hates me now I'm sure of it a-and I-I couldn't even do anything to help I'm so fucking useless" you whimpered as you began to tear up again.

This time however you felt the boy in front of you wipe away your tears with his thumb as he started into your eyes with so much sincerity you almost believed him then and there. "No one's mad at you. I'm not mad at you and neither are Hakkai, Souta, Nahoya, Mikey, and Draken. If anything Mikey is most likely happy you were able to help while he was at such a low point. It's obvious he cares about you y/n and so does everyone else. Me, especially" he smiled as he hugged you close to him, being careful of Peke J.

At this time, he knew he shouldn't allow his feelings for you to even get involved in something like this, so he silently shoved them to the side as he rubbed soothing shapes into your back while you let out muffled cries into his sweater.

This was the least he could do for you after all you had done for him.

So, he stayed there with you cradled in his arms until you cried yourself to sleep due to exhaustion and stress. 'oh y/n. Tell us next time, please. I never want to see you in such a state again... We care about you. more than you'll ever know' he sighed softly as Peke J jumped out of your lap, allowing him to place you in his bed while he went to take care of his scars.

a/n: I'm sorry if this isn't what you were hoping for, I just hope you like it

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #chifuyu matsuno #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers chifuyu #chifuyu imagines #chifuyu scenarios #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu x you #chifuyu hcs #chifuyu best boy #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers imagines #chifuyu tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcannons #tokyo revengers hcs #tokyo revengers scenarios

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willyoulovemeinthemorning · 3 years

Text

The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 1

Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes? A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in a very long time, but this story idea has been living in my head for upwards of 6 or 7 years! Please go easy on me, and I hope you enjoy! a big thanks to @candlesandsoftrain for being a great beta! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader  Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: nothing in this chapter except lots of flirting, tension, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 4000+

Chapter 1

The years moved by much too fast for your liking. You were older than you were willing to admit, and the years had been hard. Time moved so oddly- it was so difficult and slow when it was happening, but when you looked back, it was as if it sped by like a freight train.

Today was your first day at your new job- you were 27 and you’d been waiting your whole life for this day to finally come. After hearing stories about your father all through your life; catching the monsters in the dark as well as those that hide in plain sight… you wanted to be a superhero too. And lucky for you, you had a certain proclivity towards reading people. So, you became a profiler. And after years of grueling school, training and fighting to earn your place with no one knowing the legacy in your blood line, you did it.

No, those weren’t tears in your eyes… it was just dusty in the bullpen, that was all. You could feel him everywhere. You knew this was where he lived and breathed and worked for so much of his life. Your mom never understood how you ended up being so understanding about never seeing him, while your brother spent so much of your lives incredibly bitter and angry at him for “abandoning” you both. You always told Stephen that dad spent every minute of every day trying to make the world a safer place for the two of you to grow up in. And now you could finally continue his life’s work.

You caught a few pairs of eyes looking at you when you entered the bullpen for the first time, walking through like you’d been there a million times before- because in your imagination, your dreams, you had. Dad was always so descriptive with his words, and it was never hard to get lost in his stories.

You walked right to the Unit Chief’s office, knowing that Agent Hotchner was already in there waiting for you. You were supposed to have your first meeting on Monday, but when the team didn’t get back in time from their last case- a strangler in Minnesota, he had called you and you rescheduled to accommodate those dang annoying serial killers. Now it was Wednesday, and you could feel the tired energy in the room. It was filled with the sounds of scribbling pens and pencils on paper, the groans and squeaks of chairs as everyone tried to stay comfortable while doing their paperwork. You spotted a few very attractive people around you, but tried to keep your eyes forward as you headed for your destination.

After knocking on the door, you heard a shuffling of papers as a low, gritty voice welcomed you, “Come on in.”

“Hello, Agent Hotchner. Nice to see you again.” You offered your hand, which he took with his baseball mitt sized one. It was rough and strong, and reminded you of your fathers when you were young. You could tell these hands had seen a lot of conflict.

“Y/N , you’ve grown up a lot since last I saw you.” He had a kind smile on his face, which surprised you, even after all this time. Aaron Hotchner was always such a serious man, even when you were younger. “And please, call me Aaron. You know that.”

You chuckled in response. “I know, but it feels weird to call you that now that you’re my boss.”

“Hotch will do then. Morgan will give you quite a hard time if he hears you calling me ‘Agent Hotchner’, I can promise you that. Sit, sit. Let’s get through all the necessary annoyances so I can properly introduce you to your new team.”

After all of the finalized paperwork and introductory nuisances, Hotch finally stood up, indicating it was time to enter the bullpen again, but with a promise of introductions to your new team. You felt a small pang in your heart. You wished your dad could have been here to do this instead of Aaron. He took notice of your second of discomfort- something you were sure to get used to quickly working with profilers.

“Y/N, he’s here… in you. I know how proud he would be of you.” He said to you with a hand falling to your shoulder.

With a smile, you accepted the comfort, turning to look at him again. “Would you mind… could we see Uncle Dave first? I think it would make me feel a little better to have him next to me for this.” That damn dust was at it again. You were fine, really. You’d been preparing for this emotion for months now- there was nothing to surprise you.

With a gentle smile, Aaron- no, Hotch, you remembered- nodded. “Of course. Follow me to his office.” It didn’t escape your notice that, as you followed him, you were on your way to your dad’s old office. Each step brought you to a place you’d heard about, thought about, dreamt about, but had never seen. But when you walked in behind Hotch, you knew this was nothing like your father would have kept it. It just screamed Rossi.

“Y/n! If it isn’t the smartest and brightest star from the Academy, falling right here into our laps at the BAU!” Dave cheered as he saw you, shooting up from his chair and almost running to you, pulling you into his arms while Hotch closed the door to offer you all some privacy.

“Uncle Dave, you can’t believe how amazing it is to have you here on my first day.” You said into his shoulder, holding him close. He was always such a big supporter of your career- there every step of the way whenever your dad couldn’t be. You always said that you were lucky- god blessed you with a loving, mildly helicopter mother, and two superhero dads so fight all the monsters for you.

“You’re gonna be great, kid. Unless your academy grades and reputation were all a lie to get you out of their hair!” He laughed, low and warm.

You giggled, pulling back from him and punching him lightly in the arm. “Rude.” You took a deep breath, and both men noticed that you were preparing yourself to say something important. “Aaron, Uncle Dave... I made it here on my own, with my mother’s maiden name and no one knowing who my father is. I am so proud to be the daughter of Jason Gideon, and I miss him every day… but I think I want to keep my birth last name a secret for now, if you’re both okay with that. They legally changed my name when I was a baby, and while I would be so proud to have his last name again, I’m- just not ready to hold up his legacy just yet.” You explained to them, hoping they understood. Your parents had decided very early on that they didn’t want you to have the last name Gideon. It was just- too dangerous. Your father had put away too many bad people, especially people that preyed upon little girls, to risk your life that way. So while you thought of yourself as Y/N Gideon in your mind, you’d never said it out loud before. Not once.

“Of course, kiddo. Whatever you want, we’ll follow your lead. Hopefully Garcia can’t find anything with your last name, but we’ll have Kevin keep an eye on her search history in case she finds anything. But if you’re worried about anyone finding out, I would tell her and promise her to secrecy though. Because if super tech genius finds out before you tell her… everyone will know.” He explained, and you laughed. You’d heard about Garcia. Your dad used to drive her crazy. You considered Rossi’s advice and nodded, understanding and deciding to think on it.

“Ready?” Hotch said after a moment, gesturing to the bullpen, where you could see several people grouped up at a desk, staring into Rossi’s office with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of uncertainty.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rossi squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, a big toothy smile shining back at you. With two men you knew you’d already trust your life with by your side, you walked out of the room knowing that these people who you already knew so much about would soon also hold your life in their hands. “Team, I’d like to introduce you to the new member of our team, Y/N L/N. She’s transferred in with top marks from the Academy, and she’s been highly recommended by all of her professors.”

You blushed at his compliments, rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t have the highest marks in ALL of my classes. Shooting targets took me a while.” You smile, waving at the team awkwardly. “Hi everyone, it’s an honor to be here with you. I’ve heard so much about all of you. You’re all pretty famous around the bureau. I can’t wait to meet you all and get to know you as my team instead of people I’ve been idolizing for 10 years!”

Everyone laughed, and a tall, dark and handsome man walked forward with a giant grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N, I’m Derek Morgan. You are welcome to continue to idolize me as much as you’d like.” You could have snorted, he was so much like your dad described.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.” You said with a mildly flirty smile, holding your hand out to him happily. No worries for you, you were definitely going to like your job if you had him to look at all the time.

“That’s enough touching for now, little newbie,” a big beautiful blonde said from behind him. “That is my man-candy you’re ogling and groping, thank you very much.” There was no venom to her words, just something that you could only describe as adorable teasing. She was so colorful, it was almost as if there was a light shining around her. She was just a glowing ball of sunshine… You knew you’d be fast friends with her. “I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech Goddess and most loyal beck and call gal.”

You took her hand and shook it, before doing a slight curtsy, earning you a giggle. “An honor to meet you, Tech Goddess Garcia.”

“Ignore her, they’re perfect for each other because of their over inflated egos.” You heard a blazé voice coming from the other side of Derek Morgan. “He’s eye candy for us all, much to her dismay. She’s never been one for sharing. I’m Emily, one of the few normal ones here.”

“Normal, pfft. She’s far from normal. You should hear her talk about her cat. Jenniffer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”

You took both of their hands in firm handshakes, grinning at them both. “Nice to meet you, and thank you for the permission to ogle, Agents. As far as normal, I sure hope not. Normal is vastly overrated.” You grinned at them. Damn they were cute. Was this whole team models who decided to become do-gooders and join the FBI?

“Halloweentown, 1998, said by Debbie Reynolds.” A small voice in the back of the group piped in, confident in words and speed, but somehow… demure and shrouded in uncertainty, too. The team parted so you two could see each other, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds. In front of you was the prettiest, most adorable, hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had a sexy professor thing going on, but simultaneously looked like he was an anxious teenager, terrified of being bullied by this newcomer.

You longed to hold him and protect this stranger from the rest of the world and heal any wounds he had succumbed to in the time before you. He was staring at you too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, pupils a little bigger than you can only assume they would normally be. After a snicker broke you both from the weird moment, pretty boy smiled a little and gave an awkward wave. “Hi. Doctor Spencer Reid.”

Oh. God. Your heart stopped a second time, and you swore, this is what a stroke felt like. You’d heard about Spencer for the last ten years. Your father loved him almost as much as he loved you and your brother. Maybe even more sometimes. The BAU resident genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory, born in Las Vegas and wasn’t allowed in most casinos due to his card counting ability. Ability to empathize and love in a beautiful and incredible way- your father adored him, and because of how he spoke of him, you… you’d always had a crush on this faceless idea in your head with his wild mop of hair and tall, lanky frame. You had a general picture from all these years, but nothing had prepared you for this.

“H-Hi. I’m Y/N. N-Nice to meet you.” You said, trying your hardest not to sound like a little school girl with a crush on her teacher. You’d just met the man, for god sakes. You heard another snicker, and this time you knew it was from Morgan just from the proximity of the sound and the testosterone you could feel from the gesture. You tried to ignore your flaming red cheeks, and held out a hand a second before remembering that he hated being touched by strangers. A big germaphobe, always calculating the risk of what contact could mean for him. But before you had a chance to pull away, he reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. You must have looked as shocked as you felt, but no one else noticed because everyone was staring at Reid with the same expression you were wearing. And to be honest, he looked just as surprised, if not more so.

Garcia made a breathy squeak sound, and somehow, that broke the tension of the moment, and you and Reid pulled away at the same time, both looking like you’d just been shocked by electricity. You stretched your hand out, staring at it, feeling on edge all over again, thinking about how good his hand felt in yours, and how good it would probably feel other pla-

“Well, I hope you all will be on your best behaviors, and treat Y/N like you would want to be treated as a newcomer in a team like ours, seeing what we see.” Hotch finally broke the silence. “Y/N, if you have any problems, come find myself or Rossi and we’ll help sort them all out.” Nodding, you looked at him and smiled, suddenly very embarrassed that your boss and your uncle just witnessed all of that. As profilers, they were going to come to so many conclusions, and each was more embarrassing than the last.

“Pretty boy and pretty girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-” You heard Derek sing-songing and he walked away, looking like the cat who got the cream. He was interrupted only when Emily punched him quite hard in the arm, looking at you with a wink and a smirk as she headed back to her desk as well. You tried to avoid looking at the genius again, but it was… difficult to say the least. You wanted to memorize everything about him. You wanted to pick his brain and listen to every fact he’d ever memorized. You wanted to experience him in all the ways your father had gotten to and more.

You watched as the team dissipated and then your eyebrows furrowed. “Rossi?” You asked, stopping him in his tracks as he was headed back to his office. “Where’s my desk?” He looked over his shoulder at you and you could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin as he pointed with his thumb to the desk directly across from Reid.

Fuck. You both looked at each other… or well, you looked at him, and he looked away like he’d been caught doing something and sat down, looking at his paperwork blankly. As you headed to your new desk, you’d give anything to know what was happening inside that massive brain of his.

Staring at your empty desk, you imagined what you could put there. Pictures of your family, pictures of your friends and your cats… One day you would put up a picture of your father… one day. For now, you grabbed your briefcase from your side and opened it up. You started unpacking some of your first day necessities; pens and notebooks, little toys and bright objects to remind yourself that there is good in the world. Your pile of books out; you always kept at least ten books on you at all times. One for every kind of mood you could be in- and at least three that you hadn’t read yet and were planning on.

As you prepped your desk, you could feel those eyes on you, analyzing your every move. You wanted to look up and see if you could find what he was figuring out within those eyes, but you tried to keep busy so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

“Another book nerd, I see.” You heard that deep, caramelly sweet voice behind you. Derek sat on your desk right next to you and smiled a toothy smile at you. “Pretty girl likes to read, huh?”

Smiling at him, you raised a brow. “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” You were about to quote the originator, but someone else beat you to it.

“Malorie Blackman. British children’s literature writer and science fiction author.” Your head snapped to the person in front of you, who wasn’t looking at either of you.

Smiling at him, you nodded, and then turned to Morgan. “Yup, Malorie Blackman. Empathy is a huge part of the job, right? Reading allows us to experience a million different perspectives- which, as proflers, is necessary to catch the bad guys. I read so I can try to understand as many perspectives in this world as possible.”

Derek looked a little impressed, at least, and you couldn’t get a read on the gorgeous mop of brown hair on the desk across from you. Derek picked up one of the books still on your desk, not organized in your little library yet. “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings?” He comments, and you catch Spencer’s eyes flick up at the title, curious.

“It’s my favorite. Not only do I love birds, but I’m a very big Maya Angelou fan. I’ve… always kind of felt like a bird stuck in a cage. Flitting about, trying to figure out what to do with my life and who I am... No book has ever made me feel more seen or understood as a human being.” You caught those big, interested eyes and you almost felt like you might have shared too much. You’ve always been an open book, but somehow, the way he was looking at you made you feel more vulnerable than you had… ever.

Derek nodded and smiled, putting the book down on your desk. “Well, lady genius, I’m going to try and get everyone to get together tonight for drinks, would you be interested in getting to know us in a more fun environment, or would you rather just go to the library with Pretty Boy over here and nerd out together?” He teased, making both of you blush.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve spent all of the years of my adulthood studying and sleeping and working to get here, so I haven’t really… spent a lot of time at bars?” Admitting that wasn’t the best feeling, but better to be honest than try to make up a lame excuse.

“Do I hear we have a light weight to peer pressure?” Derek said, loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone else. JJ and Emily looked enthused, and Rossi poked his head out of his office to chime in.

“Someone’s convincing Miss nose in a book Y/N to go out for drinks tonight? I’m in and I’m buying!” That was met with an uproarious approval from everyone on the team, with the exception of Reid, who was just looking at you, seemingly waiting on you to decide.

You bit your lip, noticing how Reid’s eyes fell to your lips in reaction. Well… if you could spend more time with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen looking at you like that more… “Well… I guess. Sure. Sure, okay, I’m in.” You finally agreed, everyone whooping and hollering in celebration at you giving in. “Doctor Reid? What about you?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, and you could swear you saw his eyes dilate more.

“Oh, pretty boy barely ever comes out drinking with us anymore. He’s always holing himself up in his apartment- books from floor to ceiling, books in the fridge, freezer, on the bed, in his drawers and closets…” Derek teased, reaching over to Spencer and ruffling his hair.

Reid looked at Morgan and shoved his hand away and tried to fix his hair, rolling his eyes. “I do not have books in my freezer. That would be a terrible spot to put them, it would completely ruin the delicate spines.” You smiled at him in support, and he sat up a little straighter. “I… I’m in. For tonight.” He looked right at you when he said it, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach at the idea that he was going just to get to know you.

Morgan seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the face he gave Reid as he stood up and sauntered away said more than he needed to outloud. Once Reid looked away from Morgan, your eyes met and you both smiled again. “You’re a fan of Maya Angelou?” He asked, nodding towards your book.

“I am. I was always drawn to books that had birds on the covers, but then I actually read it and realized how beautiful it is on the inside.” You held the book in your hands gently. It was a mutual love, one your shared with your dad.

“The number of bird species in a person’s surroundings correlates directly to happiness levels.” He said, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The attention should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you feel warm… important.

“Really?” You searched his eyes, wondering how much information was in that brain, stacked away for use when necessary. “That’s so interesting. I thought most people found birds annoying because of all the noise.”

He shook his head. “On the surface, they think it’s annoying, but once one becomes used to the sounds all around them, they find the background noise comforting. Most people find absolute silence much more disconcerting.”

“Absolute silence, for sure. But comfortable silence between two people who find solace in each other… I think that’s my favorite background noise.” He looked at you as you spoke, a small bit of hope flickering in both of your faces. You’d felt… alone, since your fathers spirit left this world months ago. It had been so hard to be at school and unable to go to his services, terrified of people finding out who your father was and that information altering your career. You hadn’t even applied to the bureau until you had your recommendation letters in order- you didn’t want Aaron giving you any false starts just because he knew. You liked to visit his grave once a month and tell him all the things you wrote in your letters to him. You carried around his private notebook as a reminder of the people in the world he saved, the people you wanted to save. You clutched your briefcase close, knowing you couldn’t put it in your desk with Reid watching you so closely. You’d find time to slip it in later, when no one was looking. With that eidetic memory, you knew he’d recognize it immediately, and you didn’t want his curious gaze to ruin your secret just yet. You wanted the team to form their own opinions of you before they knew... because the moment they knew, everything would change.

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