#there was other life stuff going on too and the stress pushed me over the edge and I sobbed then went to bed at 6 in the morning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-mohawk · 3 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

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“She was lying.”

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day.

“About how she got to the institute.”

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.”

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance.

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...”

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.”

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.”

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?”

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?”

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.”

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.”

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London.

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting.

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you.

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means.

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more.

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with.

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table.

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules.

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day.

You wonder if they ever get a break.

Maybe this is a break for them.

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority.

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy.

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you.

Except you don’t know your pack.

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first.

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price.

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after.

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you.

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one.

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs.

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall.

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle.

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers.

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now.

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C.

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too.

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back.

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.”

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit.

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.”

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully.

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most.

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing.

“You hungry?” Gaz asks.

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting.

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh.

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well.

The thought makes something flutter in your chest.

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?”

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.”

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.”

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you.

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his.

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower.

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either.

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight.

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table.

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone.

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling.

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.”

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own.

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away.

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand.

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one.

“Captain John Price.” He says.

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves.

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other.

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep.

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta.

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.”

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA.

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.”

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond.

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.”

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says.

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.”

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.”

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.”

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.”

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.”

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things.

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.”

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond.

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks.

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says.

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.”

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second.

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.”

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want.

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction.

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.”

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.”

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.”

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole.

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face.

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?”

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base.

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.”

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega.

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world.

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age.

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas.

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up.

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check.

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack.

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings.

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world.

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you.

Or maybe they would have been worse.

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.”

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?”

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.”

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?”

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.”

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask.

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?”

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer.

“And how did that go?”

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.”

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?”

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it.

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares.

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer.

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns?

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center.

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways.

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center.

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks.

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night.

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit.

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.”

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.”

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.”

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning?

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being.

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel.

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space?

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.”

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him.

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit?

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence?

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response?

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself.

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive.

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.”

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble.

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you?

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives.

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside.

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over.

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.”

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.”

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought.

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that.

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk.

An unneeded disruption to their lives.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you.

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate.

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you.

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile.

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet.

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?”

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.”

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!”

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself.

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?”

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.”

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.”

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says.

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game.

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap.

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him.

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?”

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.”

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch.

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder.

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again.

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.”

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state.

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up.

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made.

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.”

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.”

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face.

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#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics

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actiniumwrites · 2 years

Text

𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎]

synopsis: they ignore you after an argument

characters: childe, ayato x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationships, mentions of injuries/ burns in childe’s

notes: since the other one did so well, i decided to make a part two. i was originally going to add dainsleif but these were both over 1k words each, so if i do another part he’ll probably be in it

part 1 (scaramouche, yelan), part three (xiao and heizou), part four (kaeya and alhaitham)

Childe:

You and Childe had been dating for quite awhile and were friends for even longer before you made it official.

And while you weren’t a part of the Fatui, you respected his work and stayed out of it…for the most part, anyway.

Recently, he had been coming home more and more injured each night and you were growing increasingly worried about him and his job. You loved and respected him, but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t getting upset about his work.

When you finally brought your worries up to him, he blew up on you telling you things like “You need to stay out of my work life,” “What happens to me doesn’t concern you,” and “You could never understand.”

Admittedly, it probably wasn’t the best time seeing as he had just had a really rough week, but you knew it was better sooner than later. The last thing you wanted was for your boyfriend to leave for work one day and not come back home because he got killed.

After a long period of yelling back and forth and getting no where with each other, he stormed out of your shared home without a word and left you standing alone in your house.

Whenever you and Childe had an argument, it wasn’t uncommon for him to go out and train or practice sparring to blow off some steam. So, you let him do his thing and decided that he would probably just come back later and you guys could talk it out like the responsible adults you were.

Much to your dismay, Childe never did return and apologize like he normally would. Because, while he did come back, he didn’t utter a word to you. He merely brushed you off when you asked if you could talk to him and went into your shared bedroom and locked the door. Of course, you had tried knocking a few times to see if he would come out, but it was to no avail.

This went on for the following few days as well.

He would come home and hang his stuff up and then return to his work or to train outside, not even sparing you a glance. Even when you tried to talk to him, he would just stare ahead with a smug smile on his face as if he was mocking you.

Though, it eventually became crystal clear that he was, in fact, mocking and ignoring you. When you made dinner, he would push it away and cook his own. When you would try to snuggle up to him at night because it was too cold, he’d lightly push you off and scoot closer to his own side of the bed.

Even when you had a rough day and wanted nothing more than to have him hold you, he would return that same smug smile and ignore you. And if you tried to talk to him, he would make sure your shoulders bumped as he walked past you to really rub in the fact that he wasn’t going to listen to you.

Today in particular, you were becoming quite frustrated with him. When you had woken up, he was getting ready for work. He even made sure to flash his bandages at you since he knew how worked up you had gotten about them. You even saw the way he nearly laughed at your frown. But all you did was shove down your anger and turn away from him.

Instead, you decided to go pick up groceries for the week and run a few other errands to de-stress. And when you returned home, you decided you would make yourself your favorite food. It’s not like Childe liked it anyway, so there was at least one bonus to him not eating your food.

You put away your groceries and got to cooking. It was going pretty well, though the thought of your argument was still lingering in the back of your mind. Somewhere amidst your cooking, Childe had returned home which brought the argument to the forefront of your mind.

How long was he going to continue ignoring you? It’s not like the argument was your fault anyway. No one could blame you for looking out for your boyfriend’s safety, after all, it was out of love.

Suddenly, a painful burning sensation spread across your hand and a loud scream escaped your mouth followed by a string of curses. The tears that had been unknowingly building up in your eyes had now escaped and flowed down your face as you grasped your hand tightly.

At some point when you were lost in thought, you had accidentally grabbed the burning hot handle of a metal pan and burned your hand. You didn’t even notice the worried Childe now bent down on the floor in front of you asking what happened.

He gently grabbed your arm and pulled you up to the sink, turning on some cold water and carefully placing your hand underneath it before rushing off to find some first aid supplies. Once your crying had ceased and your hand was taken care of, he sat you down on the couch while he grabbed you some water.

He glanced around the room as you downed your water, now feeling quite awkward at the silence, contrary to how he was acting the rest of the week. You sat the cup of water down and stared down at your bandaged up hand and away from his gaze.

You gulped down your nervousness before softly speaking, “Are you done ignoring me now?”

Though he should’ve felt it days ago, guilt rushed over Childe and he snapped his eyes toward your own with a sad look in his eyes. A sadness you felt he had no right to feel.

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it just as quick, blanking on what to say to you. He didn’t have an explanation for what he did and wasn’t sure how he could make it up to you.

You shoulders dropped and you huffed out a sigh before getting up and turning to go to your room, “Nevermind, it was pointless to ask.”

Childe stood up quickly, nearly falling over at the sound of your dejected voice, “Y/n! Wait, I-”

He grabbed your shoulder and gently turned you around, quickly embracing you in a tight hug, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like I did and I shouldn’t have waited till you got hurt to stop it. Please forgive me, y/n, I’m so sorry.”

You returned his embrace but pulled back to look at him, too tired to argue with him, you spoke, “Why don’t you help me finish cooking and then we can talk over dinner?”

He nodded with a warm smile. Childe was never good at apologizing, you knew that well. Yet, you couldn’t help the way your heart warmed at the way he tried for you.

Ayato:

Ayato and you had been together for a long time, having both been prominent figures in Inazuma. Naturally, the two of you got along well and eventually began dating.

You shared a similar nature of hardwork that often resulted in overworking yourself, and because of that, you guys made it a rule to keep each other in check and take care of one another.

Recently, however, Ayato was overworking himself again with marital affairs and some international stuff. So, you decided to check up on him and try to get him to take a break, even if it was just for an hour or two.

But contrary to how he would normally react, he lashed out at you and called you overbearing and annoying. He even told you that you checking up on him the way you do makes him feel even more stressed.

Stunned at his words, you silently hid your tears and trembling lip as you hurried out of his office to leave him alone.

It had only been a day since your argument, yet, Ayato was still locked up in his office. You were too nervous to knock on the door or even see him, so you tried your best to avoid him for a bit. Though, that obviously couldn’t last forever.

Your first encounter was at breakfast.

Thoma had made a big and delicious breakfast for all of you to enjoy and you were hoping it was going to give you the chance to talk to him. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t talk to you. Instead, he spoke to Ayaka the entire time and even had Thoma join you guys.

When you had asked for him to pass you the teapot, he simply side-eyed you and acted like he didn’t hear you. Ayaka and Thoma were quick to glance between the two of you with puzzled expressions. Luckily, Thoma was nice enough to grab it for you to avoid the awkwardness.

For the remainder of breakfast, you kept to yourself and ate in silence, not even looking up at everyone else.

Your next encounter with him was when you were passing by him in one of the main areas of the Estate. You had been carrying a stack of papers to bring to Ayaka when you had tripped and dropped them, allowing them to scatter across the floor.

Ayato had been walking out of his room at the same time only to witness the entire thing happen.

Normally, he would be quick to get on his own knees and help you gather the sheets of paper and make sure you were okay. However, since he was seemingly ignoring you, he merely stopped to stare down at you before walking past you and around the papers.

You just sighed and continued picking them up as he walked past, wondering why he was acting like this.

The final encounter was the same night when you guys had guests over for business. There were around ten to fifteen of them, and they weren’t people you had met before.

Usually, Ayato would have you standing close to him with an arm around your waist or have his own arm linked with yours, but tonight there was a rather unusual distance placed between the two of you. You were sure even the guests could see it.

Regardless, you tried your best to appear normal with a bright smile on your face and politely answering any questions. Unfortunately, you couldn’t help the fidgeting of your hands or the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You just hoped the guests couldn’t see it.

It felt like they were going to be there forever as you sat distanced from Ayato. While you pretended to be paying attention to what they were saying with the occasional nod or smile, you were really just lost in thought over how to fix whatever it was that was going on between you and your boyfriend.

He was barely even acknowledging you, and it almost seemed like you weren’t even there. You didn’t even look like his partner.

Having had enough, you got up to excuse yourself to use the restroom. But on your return back to the room, you had stopped as you heard two of guests, who you recognized as being an older husband and wife, gossiping to themselves in hushed voices.

“Archons, have you seen Lord Ayato’s s/o? They don’t even look like they should be with him!” The man laughed, his wife quick to join in.

“I agree, at least it’s obvious he’s not that interested in them anyway. I give it a good few weeks before he finally breaks up with them and he marries someone actually worth his time.”

You clenched your fists and attempted to stop the tears from falling from your eyes as they continued to talk. You, on the other hand, turned around and rushed to your and Ayato’s shared bedroom.

After what you had just heard, you couldn’t be bothered to stick around for the rest of the night, especially with the new found thought of Ayato breaking up with you now plaguing your mind.

—

When twenty minutes had passed, Ayato had begun to get suspicious of where you were. Sure, he was supposed to be ignoring you, but you didn’t normally take this long and he was worried. After all, he was still your boyfriend.

His eyes darted around the room at all the guests while his mind was beginning to fill with ideas of how to kick the guests out without it becoming obvious he wanted them gone.

He gulped down his thoughts and stood up out of his seat and fixing his attire before pretending to look at what time it was on the clock, “Ah, I do sincerely apologize, but it is getting quite late. Perhaps, we can all meet another time?”

The guests looked toward the clock as well before agreeing with him and grabbing their coats and other belongings. A fake smile remained plastered on Ayato’s face as he walked the guests out and bid them a goodnight.

As soon as they were gone, his nonchalant facade dropped and he was quick to rush back inside to search for you. When he couldn’t find you anywhere, he hurried to check your shared bedroom.

When he had slid open the door, he found you curled up on the bed under the covers and lightly sniffling to yourself. Alarmed at the sight, he rushed to your side and bent down to meet your face.

You were quick to cover your face with the covers and turn over to the other side, not wanting to face him. Ayato’s shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh and walked over to the other side and sat down next to you.

Carefully removing the glove off of his hand, he gently grabbed the covers and pulled them down to see your face, “Y/n, please look at me…”

Finally looking him in the eyes, he was able to inspect your tear stained face. His heart broke at the sight and he moved closer to you, but you moved back, “What do you want, Ayato?”

“What happened?” he whispered.

“What happened is you’ve been ignoring me all day. You wouldn’t even look at me! You ignored me at breakfast, you ignored me in when I dropped those papers, and you ignored me when those guests were here!” you took a breath before staring down at the bed, “And the guests…the guests-”

“The guests..what? What did they do?”

You stared down at your hands with blurred eyes, “I heard them talking about us when I came back from the bathroom. They…they said that you were going to break up with me and that I wasn’t worthy of you.”

Ayato was quick to wrap his arms around you and bring you closer to him, “Don’t listen to them. They don’t know what they’re talking about, they don’t even understand business! I love you, y/n, and I’m sorry for ignoring you like I did. It was childish and it went too far. I didn’t mean anything I said to you, I don’t think you’re annoying or overbearing, so please don’t listen to any of that or think that you aren’t worthy of me.”

“So…you aren’t going to break up with me?”

“Archons, no. I’m never going to leave you, y/n,” Ayato reassured you, “Now, c’mon, let’s go to bed and we can talk more in the morning.”

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jayteacups · 5 months

Text

It's A Wrap!

Working on Attack on Titan as a makeup artist has irreversibly changed your life. As the end rapidly approaches, you find that letting go is harder than you’d thought. After years of harbouring feelings for Levi that you can’t divulge, his final day on set arrives. You know it’s time to say goodbye to him and part ways—but maybe you don’t have to.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader

Tags & warnings: Actor!Levi, Makeup artist!Reader, fluff, confessions, friends/idiots to lovers, alcohol consumption, briefly implied sexual content, AOT finale spoilers

Word count: 6.9k words

A/N: I’m back, happy Levi month everyone! I wrote this over the last month to cope with the fact AOT was ending and also life stuff. This is incredibly self indulgent, also I would love to tell more stories and scenarios in this AU, so this probably won’t be the last one-shot I write for actor!Levi and MUA!Reader hehehe. Disclaimer that I don't work in film or TV or makeup, sorry if there are any inaccuracies. Also please forgive me for the uncreative title, lol. Hope you enjoy the fic!

Levi’s last day on set is bittersweet.

For the final time, you lean against the wall and count down the seconds on your watch. The trailer door swings open to reveal the man of the hour. On par for the course, Levi arrives fifteen minutes on the dot before his scheduled arrival time. He’s holding his usual steaming flask of tea in one hand, with a nondescript rucksack (save for a Badtz-Maru keychain gifted to him from the Sanrio collaboration) slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” you greet him, pushing off from the wall, moving towards him like a moth to flame. He sets down his things in the sitting area and meets you halfway, letting you pull him into your arms. After years of working alongside each other, you’ve both grown accustomed to greeting each other like this in private, especially after the stress the two of you had put yourselves under during the Season 3 shoots.

“How are you feeling? It’s your last day.” You ask him as the two of you part. To your dismay, you’re already missing the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to get all sappy about it.” His face is placid.

“That’s what Hange said when they filmed their death scene, and we saw how that ended,” you say lightheartedly. Hange had sworn to remain jovial and upbeat throughout their last day, but after seeing the several other actors cry at their phenomenal acting, they had promptly broken down. “And I bet you anything that Eren’s going to say that when he and Mikasa do the cabin scene next week, and we all know he’ll be the first to start crying and the last to stop.”

Levi rolls his eyes before he enters the wardrobe area, but you know he’s not serious. “If you think I’m going to break down in tears like Hange and the kids did, you’re dead wrong,” he continues, out of sight.

You smile. “Sure. It’s alright, you know, if you do end up crying. It’s an end of an era, we’re all going to get emotional.”

A few moments later, Levi emerges in costume, sans the bandages. He sits down in front of the mirror at the vanity table. “Yes, but I’m satisfied with what I’ve done here, and I have no regrets,” he muses out loud, continuing on from before. “And it’s not like I’m done with the show. There’s the wrap party, then the press tour and all that. So don’t expect me to get all worked up today. I’m not saying goodbye to Attack on Titan just yet.” His voice softens towards the end.

But it is goodbye for us, you wish to say. And I don’t want it to be. You haven’t been contracted for any of their press events. After you finish with Attack on Titan, you’ll have a handful of weeks before your upcoming contract for a new show begins. It’s a wonderful opportunity; the show is airing on a major streaming service and requires you to push your SFX skills to the limit. Sasha had been cast in one of the main roles and both Onyankopon and Nifa will make appearances too, so you’ll see some familiar faces on this new project. But selfishly, you aren’t ready to let go and move forward. Selfishly, you aren’t ready to part ways with Levi.

Sure, the two of you will make an effort to talk every now and then. You know him far better than to assume he’ll stop talking to you the moment Attack on Titan is finished; despite him being standoffish at first, it’s clear Levi cares deeply about everybody he’s ever worked with, cast or crew alike. But the chances of your demanding schedules ever lining up again are close to zero, and sooner or later, your frequent messages will fizzle out into a conversation lost to the ages. You’ll drift, until the two of you are strangers once more. It’s inevitable; you’ve seen it happen before with your actor friends from old projects. No doubt it’ll happen again.

You consider addressing the elephant in the room, wondering if it lingers on his mind, too. But instead, you hum in agreement and pass him a headband to hold his hair out of the way. He puts it on, clearly content to not bring it up just yet.

Levi chews on the inside of his cheek as you sort out your equipment on the vanity table. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his lips, which are a little more chapped than usual. It’s clear there is something else that’s bothering him, but you decide to let it go for now. Sometimes Levi just needs to sit with his thoughts for a moment. You’ve learned that being pushed just makes him close himself off even more. A life in the limelight can be unforgiving. Kuchel Ackerman had been the brightest star of her generation, but behind the scenes, her personal life was far from glamorous. It doesn’t surprise you that her son keeps his heart and feelings well-guarded.

As he sits and stews, you apply chapstick and some basic ‘barely-there’ makeup on his face, before creating the illusion of a hard-fought battle by adding a light layer of grime to his face. You’ll add more after the scar and bandages. As you work, Levi takes out a folder from his bag, which is embellished with a small cat sticker that Hange had stuck on years ago. From it, he takes his copy of the script, nary a crease in the sheets. Brow furrowed, he reads it over and over, mouthing his lines with the fervour of a prayer.

Now, that is odd.

“There is something on your mind, isn’t there?” You’ve also read the script for today’s scene. The director had decided to save Levi’s most poignant scene—where his character salutes the ghosts of his fallen comrades—for the very end of his shoot. (Levi’s epilogue scene had been shot a week prior.) This would be his most challenging scene yet, for it would be the first time he and his character will ever cry on screen. “You can tell me if you want. Anything you need to help you focus. There’s still time.” You give him a quick squeeze on his shoulder.

Stormy eyes glance up at his reflection, than up at yours. He puts down the script and sighs, voice subdued. “I just want to do the Captain’s ending justice, and I don’t think I can.”

“I think you can,” you murmur. You gesture for him to close his eyes, and pick up your finest brush. Willing your hand and heart into steadiness, you bring the brush up to his forehead, where the largest scar begins. You’ll never get used to how infuriatingly gorgeous he is. “No. I know you can. There is no doubting just how much you care about portraying him correctly.”

He swallows. “Well, I’ve never cried on camera before.” He stops, giving you a moment to work.

With the utmost care, you begin to draw the main line of the largest scar, the one that passes through his eye and lips. As the brush passes over his eyelid, it twitches ever so slightly, his long lashes tickling your hand. Smiling, you brush away a stray lash that had fallen onto his cheek. As you extend the line down his cheek, you try to reassure him. Levi’s usually so steadfast, but it makes sense that something like this would grow heavy on his mind.

“You’ve been practicing it with your coach, though, right? I mean, I’ve had to cover up your swollen eyes a number of times this season.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The brush reaches his lips. He opens his eyes, looking up at you through lowered lashes. Your heart aflutter, you staunchly ignore any and all thoughts of kissing him. Doing so has become more and more difficult with every passing day. Especially when every now and then, you think you see him glancing down at your lips whenever you lean in close to examine a detail of your work.

It’s more than likely that you’re imagining it, though.

Finally, the brush reaches his chin, finishing the outline of the first scar. You lean back to admire your work. After many instances of painstakingly painting on the scars and agonising over continuity, you don’t have to look at your old reference pictures to know the exact shape and curve of them, down to the millimetre. But you do so anyway, and smile in satisfaction when you compare today’s line to the pictures from the first time you drew them on him for practice. A perfect match.

“I know you’ve been working hard at it,” you continue assuring him, putting down the reference photos. “You’ve definitely come a long way.”

“Yeah, but I’m shit at it, actually. All those times we joked about how Eren would take forever to conjure a single tear every time he needed to cry, and now here I am in the exact same position. He’s going to rub this in my face should he ever find out.” He chews the inside of his cheek again, looking down. “Damn it. Don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m not… I don’t get nervous. I don’t show up to work feeling unprepared. That isn’t me. But today, it is.”

It’s unsettling, to see him so unsure of himself. His nerves are understandable, as he came into the show with more of a stuntman background and little actual acting experience. But anybody who’s worked alongside him could easily tell you just how dedicated he is to improving his craft, and that nobody else could play the Captain with the same quiet subtleties that Levi brings to the screen.

You hope your smile is somewhat reassuring to him. “And that’s okay. You know, crying on command really isn’t easy. I’ve worked with countless actors and many also find it difficult.” In your experience, most actors need a while to work themselves up to cry. The most obvious exception is Armin, who has the unnerving ability to turn it on and off like a light switch. “For you, all you need to do is make one tear out of one eye. You’ve managed to do that before, right?”

He nods, but the firm clench of his jaw and the crease between his brows don’t fade.

“So, it’s nothing that you haven’t practiced. And on the off chance that you can’t do it today, that’s perfectly fine. I have eyedrops in my bag.”

“Yeah, but…” He shakes his head in frustration. “This is going to sound dumb, but it… I don’t know, that feels like cheating. I know you’re thinking I’m being an idiot, and I probably am. I know eyedrops are common practice. It’s just… This is my character’s last moment before the epilogue, and I want it to be real. I don’t want to take the easy way out.”

“No, it’s not stupid. There’s no shame in needing to use eyedrops if you end up not being able to cry today, but it’s really admirable that you want to do it as authentically as possible. I think that since this is your final scene, and so many people are returning this morning, it’ll be easier than usual to muster up those tears.” Reaching for a set of different brushes and paint, you instruct him, “here’s what we’re going to do. I need you to just listen whilst I do the rest of your scars. I don’t want you to get trapped in your head about this, okay? Overthinking will just make it harder to get into character. Isn’t that what you said to Mikasa all those years back? It worked wonders for her. I often forget that this show was her first ever gig, with how good she’s become.”

He scoffs. “Really? You’re using my own words against me?”

“Well, what use is your own advice if you can’t follow it yourself?”

After a moment of hesitation, Levi sighs in defeat and closes his eyes again. “Shit, you’re relentless. Fine, then. I’ll trust you.”

You get to work, drawing the outlines of the second scar parallel to the first, then the smaller ones on his other cheek. As you add in the details, such as the texture of the stitches, you remind Levi of another story that he himself told you. He’d never worked with horses before being cast in this show, and yet was one of the quickest learners. Unsurprisingly so, since he’s incredibly kinaesthetically intelligent. To this day, the cast insists he looks the most at ease atop a horse, only second to Erwin, who actually used to ride in his childhood. You remind him that every single time, his hard work has more than paid off.

Somewhere down the line, you go off topic. Levi makes no move to stop you. In fact, he seems content just to listen to you talk about anything, everything. As the wounds take shape on his face, you reminisce on anecdotes from set, on the time the two of you spent together. With fondness, you recall your first meeting. Back then, you were an lowly assistant on the SFX team, transforming an unassuming man into the wounded soldier who, in his dying moments, listened to the Captain’s vow to eradicate the titans and bring meaning to his sacrifice. You talk about how the two of you grew closer during the filming of the second season, when Levi had a lot more free time to talk. How difficult the third season had been to film due to both of you being spread thin by additional responsibilities.

You skim over that time Levi mentioned you in an interview when asked about a favourite memory on set, and how warm it made you feel. You don’t talk about how you’d genuinely teared up after watching the final cut of the scene where Hange discovers a half-dead Levi by the riverbank, despite knowing that his ‘injuries’ were nothing more than your own handiwork.

And, with your heart clenching painfully, you certainly don’t dare to bring up the almost-kiss at last year’s cast and crew Halloween party.

———

“Cut! Perfect! Aaand that’s a wrap for Levi!”

The set erupts into thunderous applause. You clap heartily alongside the rest of the cast and crew. A deafening symphony of whoops and cheers fills the air, and if not for the growing lump in your throat, you’d join in too.

A standing ovation. Levi deserves it and more. Just as you expected, every angle the director wanted to capture had needed one take each, not a single one more. No eyedrops needed.

From your position, you can see Levi still sitting by the rock. Strangely, he makes no move to get up. Curious as to why, you peer past some crew members that had moved in the way, but you’re greeted with a sight that pulls at your heartstrings. Your eyes sting with new tears.

Curled up by the rock, Levi has his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving with quiet sobs.

Something in your chest aches. You knew that he would get emotional at the end—there was no way he wouldn’t, especially considering that his character cried too—but you didn’t expect him to feel so overwhelmed.

On instinct, your feet propel you towards him, but you’re promptly cut off by a few other crew members moving around. Through your rapidly blurring vision, you can only watch as several of the returning cast members rush forward from the smoke. Hange reaches him first, and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. Erwin is second, kneeling next to the duo and rubbing Levi’s back comfortingly.

Sniffling, you quickly wipe away your tears, remembering suddenly that you still have something to do. Unnoticed, you slip away from set.

There is a tradition amongst the cast that whenever a character dies, the actor receives a bouquet of flowers from the cast and crew. (A size limit had to be enforced after a very emotional Gabi had presented Sasha with a bouquet so large it couldn’t fit through the trailer door.) For this final season, the tradition has expanded to gifting the actor a bouquet when they wrap, for the characters that survive all the way to the very end.

The door to Connie’s trailer is unlocked when you arrive, just as he said it would be. Inside, you find a vase full of vibrantly coloured flowers on the kitchenette counter in the exact spot where you’d left it earlier this morning. Several weeks ago, the cast and crew had all nominated you to put in the order for the bouquet and present it to Levi on his final day, and Connie had offered to help you hide it from Levi until it was time. Careful to not drip water all over the floor, you pick up the flowers and jog back to set.

The fog machines are being carried out by the time you return. You immediately scan the set for Levi, but it seems he has been completely buried under a massive group hug with the veterans cast, no doubt Hange’s doing. You can’t help but smile at the sight. Most of the crew members appear to be taking a break before clean-up, as it is the end of the day. The air is filled with chatter, but a hush descends upon the crowd as you approach.

The actors peel away from the hug one by one. A smiling Petra helps Levi get to his feet. The bandages on his face are halfway unravelled. With one hand, he yanks them off, leaving both of his eyes to gaze at you unobstructed, ablaze with an intense emotion you can’t quite place. With his other hand, he quickly wipes away the half-dried tears on his cheeks.

“On behalf of the cast and crew,” you say hoarsely, “I give you these.” You step forward and present him the bouquet. “It’s been an honour. Thank you for everything, Levi.”

His fingers gently graze yours as he takes the flowers from you. Tenderly, he holds them close to his chest.

“I was wondering where you went just now,” he says. Of course he’d noticed. “Should’ve known you’d be the one to give me this…” His voice wavers towards the end. He scoffs and wipes at his eyes. “And to think I was done blubbering like a baby. Damn it. You were right.”

He pulls you into a hug without a second thought.

———

Somehow, you’ve been roped into taking photos for everyone. Levi unwraps the bandages around his hand before he begins. He first takes a photo with the director and producer, who both thanking him dearly. They part with a handshake. Almost immediately after, the cast members of the Alliance, along with Eren and Zeke, all swarm forward for a big group photo. They’d all come to watch in support, even if several of them weren’t scheduled to come in today. Connie confesses that he’d helped hide the bouquet by letting you into his trailer. Levi makes a light-hearted remark that he should’ve figured that out too, considering Connie also helped hide Hange’s bouquet—which Levi himself had been responsible for ordering and retrieving.

The veteran actors come forward next. Fitting them all into the camera frame was a challenge, but you manage to do it after one of your makeup assistants finds you a stool. Somehow, Erwin manages to persuade Levi into doing the Scout salute with the rest of them. (“I just did it in the scene, though… Fine, I’ll indulge in your corniness for today, you dorks.”) When he presses his fist to his chest one last time, the veterans erupt into cheers.

Hange and Erwin both stay back for a little longer. The trio pose for more photos, all grinning widely, though you decide to put a stop to the mini-photoshoot when Hange attempts to pick Levi up bridal-style and almost drops him.

(“When I said ‘put me down’, I didn’t mean for you to drop me with no fucking warning!”

“I didn’t mean to drop you. Besides, I caught you, didn’t I? You’re fine, see?”)

After that fiasco, Levi asks to take one with the original Special Ops Squad, as it had been years since they’d managed to meet up.

Zeke comes back for another photo, slipping one arm around Levi’s shoulders. As you meet the taller man’s eyes over the top of his phone, he winks mischievously, holding two fingers up in bunny ears above Levi’s unsuspecting head. Say nothing, he mouths to you. With a herculean effort, you suppress your laugh. Zeke has made it his personal mission to photobomb every main cast member from the finale. After months of shooting, Levi is the last one standing, and it’s incredibly entertaining how hard Zeke tries to finish his mission, even now.

“Hand down, Zeke.”

“Damn it, how did you know?”

“You’re about as subtle as Reiner is when he pretends he hasn’t broken a prop.”

Zeke laughs. “Nothing gets past you, Levi, does it?”

As the two continue to playfully bicker, more jokes than actual verbal barbs, you open the photo you’d managed to take split seconds before Levi called Zeke out. “Mission accomplished,” you say, and a delighted Zeke reaches over Levi’s head to high-five you. Looking mildly betrayed, Levi whips his head back around to face you.

You grin sheepishly as you pass Zeke’s phone back to him, the photo on display. “Sorry. I had to help him.”

“Why are you two like this?” Levi says, shaking his head, barely holding back a smile. He and Zeke part after a hug and a promise to get drinks soon.

Levi’s promptly joined by Falco and Gabi, and after their photo is taken, he ruffles their hair affectionately, which makes Gabi yelp. He really has stepped into the ‘cast dad’ role, a development that you find endlessly endearing. Soon after, their parents arrive to take them home— the kids have quite an early start tomorrow to film their scenes with Annie and Kiyomi on the boat.

Jean and Connie take the chance to snatch a couple of selfies with him, before the latter asks if he could join them to film a TikTok for the show’s official account. To Levi’s utmost relief, it isn’t a dance challenge. Connie instead asks him a few questions about how he feels about the show ending, and what the show means to him—he’s putting together a montage of every cast member’s responses.

On the sidelines, just out of view, you watch Levi give his answers. An ember of warmth kindles in your chest.

Soon after, Levi’s approached by the stunt team, headed by an old friend of Levi’s from his stuntman days. She’d made a cameo in the third season as Kenny’s lieutenant. You happily take a group photo for them.

After you hand Caven’s phone back to her, Hange taps you on the shoulder, having finished catching up with the other cast members. You smile as they hug you tight, swaying on the spot; today is the first time you’ve seen them since they filmed their death scene a few months back.

“It’s so good to see you!” They say, linking arms with yours. “Sorry it took so long to come and find you.”

“Don’t worry! It’s lovely having you back. How are you finding your return?”

“It’s great! I’ve really been missing this, even though it hasn’t been that long.” They pout.

“Oh, we’ve all missed you too, Hange,” you say, smiling. “Have you been up to much since you left?”

“Well, I visited my dad for a bit, then I sent in an audition tape for this thriller movie that my agent thinks I’ll be a good pick for. I also got a few other offers, but I’m a little on the fence. I’ll consider those if I don’t get that thriller role, but who knows when I’ll hear back from them?”

“I bet you’ll get it. Thrillers are right up your alley.”

“You flatter me, dear,” They grin. “Anyways, I am here to say that you are the only one left who has not taken a picture with Levi. And that needs to change. The two of you need something to remember this day by!” You realise they’ve been guiding you towards the rock, where Levi, Mikasa, Armin and Eren are deep in conversation. The younger actors are laughing boisterously at something Levi had said, heads tilted back, sporting wide grins. Levi’s still cradling his bouquet carefully, a soft smile as he speaks, looking up at his younger cast mates with endearment. Your heart warms at the sight.

The quartet look up as you approach. The younger actors wave goodbye, disappearing into the crowd. Hange quickly ushers you and Levi together, their phone already out of their pocket. “Alrighty, here we go!” They cheer. “Oi, look lively now, Levi. It’s the last photo!”

“Was about time we did this,” you whisper to him as you come close. At first, you settle into your usual stance whenever you take a photo with a cast member, but Levi is not just any cast member. Not to you. Gnawing on your lip, you grapple with yourself for a fleeting moment. Your professional side barely puts up a resistance, and so you lean in to whisper a question. Briefly, you wonder what it would feel like to kiss the delicate shell of his ear. You banish the traitorous thought, best as you can.

“Hey, can I put my arm around you for this?” As close as you and Levi have grown over the years, the two of you save your brief hugs for behind the scenes, in private. Physical affection is rare with him otherwise—whilst the cast tend to be very touchy with one another, Levi is usually seen on the sides, watching them with a quiet fondness in his eyes. That hug from earlier—it had to be a fluke, right?

And yet, he sighs, and bridges the small gap between you. His free arm moves behind you, a warm, firm hand comes to rest at your back. “You don’t have to ask, you know,” he murmurs in return. “I hugged you earlier, didn't I? Quit worrying. Go ahead.”

Warmth blooming inside you, you lean sideways towards him on impulse. You slide your own arm behind him, and Levi leans into your touch. “Just so you know,” he continues, “it was an honour working with you too.”

Hange starts to count down from three. A wave of emotion hits you, almost sweeps you off your feet. This is it. Your last day of working with him.

Still so much left unsaid.

Straining to keep your composure, you offer a wide, bright smile for the camera.

———

The next few hours are spent tidying and cleaning up. Most of the actors have gone home, but Levi stays behind to help out the crew, as he always does without fail. With how emotionally taxing the day had been, it’s a wonder he didn’t go back to his trailer immediately to crash. As if you couldn’t admire him any more.

Your eyelids are heavy by the time you finish up and arrive at Levi’s trailer. When you enter, he is slumped in a chair in front of the vanity mirror, already changed out of his costume.

Neither of you say a single word as you carefully wipe away the scars and the grime. Your traitorous hands linger for a split second too long whenever they brush against his smooth skin. In his stormy eyes are that same intense look he’d given you when you first appeared with the bouquet.

You wonder what it means.

Sooner or later, one of you will have to break this fragile silence. Levi decides to take the matter into his own hands, catching you off guard. “I guess this is it.”

The sting in your eyes returns with a fierce vengeance. You turn away for a moment, rapidly blinking your oncoming tears away. An invisible vice clamps down, mercilessly clenching your chest.

You choke on your words, but you get them out somehow. “I’ll miss you.” Not the three words you’ve been yearning to say for the last year, but it will have to do. “I’m going to miss you. So much. It’s been…” You wrack your brain, but there is no singular adjective you know of that could truly describe the past few years working on this show with him. “You know what I mean. Right?”

“I know what you mean.” Levi stands, turning to face you properly. The troubled crease between his brows return. “Look, I… I have to tell you something. Hear me out?”

Your heart thunders in your chest. You nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Remember this morning? I said I was satisfied with my work here. That I have no regrets.”

Barely able to breathe, you can only manage to nod.

“But that isn’t true. Not really. There is one thing I regret,” he says, slowly, cautiously.

Voice barely a whisper, you ask. “What is it?”

“That we never talked about what almost happened at Halloween last year.”

The world comes to a halt.

Dimmed lights. Bass reverberates through your bones. The aftertaste of a Bloody Mary lingers on your tongue. Levi is just centimetres away, his chest almost flush with yours. His eyes valiantly fight to stay focused on the intricate titan-shifter makeup on your cheeks, before he gives in and his line of sight drops to your lips. Unconsciously, he leans in slightly, seemingly gravitating towards you.

Devastating. That is the first word that comes to your mind. It is high time you realise that he will be the end of you; he could ask anything of you and you’d do it. Your heart beats for him.

Caught in his orbit, your face tilts towards his.

A drunken crew member barges past, jostling your shoulder. You yelp, stumbling to the side, before Levi’s hands—warm, steady, safe—catch you. The spell broken, he lets go the moment you are upright, averting his eyes from yours. Levi takes a step backwards—a small one, because there is barely any space in the corner of the room the two of you are tucked into. But to you, he suddenly feels so distant, that he might as well be on the other side of the universe.

“I need some air,” he says, stoic mask falling back into place. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, Levi turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, taking all the warmth of the room with him.

No. This is dangerous territory. Since that night, the two of you had constructed an unspoken agreement to pretend nothing had ever happened. Levi had never made any impression that it was anything other than a drunken lapse in professionalism. For a while, you wondered if he even remembered that moment, or if it had all been in your head, a result of you projecting your own desires onto him.

Regardless, he had never brought it up. You’d been content to do the same. It was—and still is—impossible to fathom that Levi would ever want you.

“Tell me,” he says hoarsely, “that I wasn’t imagining things that night, and every day since. Tell me I’m not imagining that you’ve been looking at me like…”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Like what?”

“Like that!” He snaps. His hands tremble in a way you’ve never seen before as he gestures towards you, voice tinged with desperation. “Like how you’re looking at me right now. I-I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. Because if I had… maybe I would’ve…”

The staggering realisation of what he’s trying to say sinks in.

Choking back a sob of relief, you reach out for his hands, and he offers them to you with no resistance. A light blush sweeps across his face as he stares at your interlocking fingers with something akin to wonder.

Breathlessly, you dare to ask. “Do you mean it? That if you had known how I felt, you… you would’ve kissed me?”

“Yes. I would’ve. I wanted to, more than anything.” With that, Levi finally looks up from your joined hands. The burning look he’s been giving you all throughout today—you recognise it, now, plain and simple.

His earlier words ring in your mind. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.

“Oh, Levi,” you whisper.

He continues on. “And if I had known how you felt, I wouldn’t have upped and left you like that. I was being a shitty coward, for running away and pretending it never happened, and never giving you an explanation when you deserved one. I was scared, I think, of ruining what we already had. You didn’t imagine anything on my part, it happened, and you didn’t do anything wrong that night… I’m sorry.”

Smiling, you squeeze his hands; warm, steady, safe. “You aren’t imagining things on my end either. I’m in love with you, and have been for a while now.” You don’t need him to say those precious words back for now—Levi’s endearingly clumsy attempt at confessing means more to you than he’ll ever know. “And I forgive you for running out on me that night. We both thought it didn’t mean anything to the other person. For so long, I thought that even if you did, things would never work out, that today would be goodbye, because I have a new contract on the other side of the country, and you’ll be going back to stunt work, a-and…” Your voice trembles, so you force yourself to stop, and breathe.

“It will work. I swear it, I’m not saying goodbye to you. I don’t care what’s coming next, we can make it work.” He seems to muster his resolve, tugging you closer. “No more dancing around this like idiots. We have enough lost time to make up for.”

Smiling so widely your cheeks ache, you playfully poke his cheek. “Well, you can always begin with the kiss you owe me, yeah?”

“You smart-arse.” Levi chuckles, before gently cupping the back of your head with his hand. In a swift movement, he leans in and captures your lips with his.

It’s nothing short of divine.

Levi kisses you with years worth of yearning behind it. His other hand moves to cradle your face, thumb brushing against the curve of your cheek, wiping away a stray tear of happiness.

Eyes fluttering shut, you deepen the kiss. Tongues move in tandem, and it isn’t long before hands begin to roam, exploring the terrains of each other’s bodies with an almost innocent curiosity. Heat simmers underneath your skin, a carnal flame yearning to be stoked, to devour.

For now, though, you’ll have to temper it.

Coming up for air, you close your eyes, resting your forehead against his. As much as you desperately want him, you don’t want your first time having sex with Levi to be in a trailer on set, with multiple crew members still milling around outside and packing up for the day. You tell him as such, and he murmurs his agreement after kissing you once more.

“Glad we’re on the same page about that, so…” Realising what you’re about to say next, you choke back a grin at your own cheesiness. “You wanna go back to your place or mine?”

Levi rests his forehead on your shoulder and chokes back a laugh. “Fuck, that’s such a cliché line.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but the question still stands.”

He looks up at you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Yours, then.”

The time spent packing up and driving back to your home crawls by agonisingly slowly. The moment the two of you cross the threshold onto your home, he’s closing the gap between the two of you, kissing you breathless, thoughtless, until only your longing for him remains. So much so that you almost forget to stop and get a condom out from your drawer—in fact, Levi has to remind you.

The rare few times you had allowed yourself to think about it, you’d pictured Levi as a tender lover, gentle despite his coarseness. He is all this and more. At his fingertips, you come alive. As he makes love to you, laughs and sweet nothings fill the air between the deep kisses you share. You should’ve expected just how generous he can be in bed, but it still takes you by surprise, the way he worships your body with a deep-rooted reverence, determined to pleasure you over and over. In turn, you reciprocate eagerly, honoured that Levi trusts you to take care of him in return, that he is so readily vulnerable with you.

Once the two of you are finally, utterly spent, Levi nudges you awake before you can fully slip into a deep doze, cosy and comfortable in his embrace. “Hey. Gotta clean ourselves up, sleepyhead.”

You chuckle drowsily, and miraculously muster up the strength to crawl out of his arms, out of the warm sheets. “The bathroom is just down the hall,” you yawn, trudging towards a cupboard not the other side of your room. “You can shower first whilst I change the sheets and find you a towel and some spare clothes, ‘kay?”

“Or,” Levi says, voice hoarse with the same kind of contented exhaustion that makes you yearn to curl up beneath the sheets in his arms, “you could come with me.” He pulls you back in, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder, which tickle slightly.

Euphoric, you close your eyes and laugh. “Okay.”

Showering together is an incredibly sweet, domestic affair. Long after you’ve rinsed off all the lather, you’re both hesitant to leave the warmth of the running water, content to cling onto each other and relish in the feeling of skin against skin.

After the two of you dry off and change the sheets, you climb into bed. Half awake and basking in each other’s presence, you pull him close, nestling your head on his chest. When was the last time you had felt so cherished, so happy?

Sleep claims you swiftly, but not before Levi kisses the top of your head and tells you what you already know:

“I’m in love with you, too.”

———

Several weeks later

The wrap party is well underway by the time you and Levi arrive.

The lights are dim, and the music reverberates through your bones. Levi’s hand finds a home in the curve of your waist as he guides you through the crowd of drunken cast and crew members. His touch anchors you, and you find yourself smiling giddily.

After helping yourself to a cocktail, the hours fly by. Apparently, the entire cast plus half of the crew (including all of the makeup assistants under your command) had been rooting for you and Levi to get together. Tonight when you finally revealed you were in a relationship with him to your juniors, you were subjected to an intense barrage of questions. This, however, paled in comparison to Hange’s reaction when Levi held your hand in front of their very eyes—they’d launched an interrogation so brutal you wonder why they didn’t enter law enforcement instead.

Soon after escaping Hange’s interrogation, you two both get another drink. “Everybody seems far too invested in this development than they should be,” you sigh, still frazzled. “How long do you reckon they’ve been shipping us?”

A look of exasperation flits across Levi’s face. “I don’t know, and I hate that I even know what ‘shipping’ means in this context. Also, I saw Zeke give Erwin money when Hange was drilling us. Fuckers had some kind of bet running on us. Don’t even wanna know how long that had gone on for.”

You tip your head back and laugh. “Colour me unsurprised. That sounds very on-brand for Zeke and Erwin. You know, I think I saw Armin and Connie do the same. Guess Armin’s not as angelic as he looks.”

“That’s been known, sweetheart. The kid’s a menace in disguise.” He kisses your cheek. “Just like you, actually, now that I think about it.”

Playfully, you swat him away. “Hey, who are you calling a menace?”

Eventually, the two of you find yourselves catching some air outside, needing a moment to sober up and recalibrate after a whirlwind of social interaction. Levi’s hand returns to your waist and tugs you closer to him, seeking out your warmth. Melting into his touch, you do you best to commit the feeling of his embrace to memory. Soon, you’ll move away for a few months for your next contract, but you no longer fear it. Levi had sworn to you that this would work out, and there is nobody’s word you trust more than his.

Your love for each other has endured for years in the past. A handful more months is nothing.

Levi shifts slightly to get a better look at you, and cups your cheek. Meeting his gaze, your heart stops; his eyes are a breathtaking silver in the moonlight. Easily the most expressive feature he has, you could get lost in them for hours.

Caught in his orbit, your face tilts towards his.

This time, Levi meets you halfway.

Do not repost, modify or claim as your own work.

Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi x y/n #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #aot actor au #actor levi x makeup artist reader

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redskull199987 · 6 months

Note

i have two so I'll probably send them separately, but at the same time I feel like that would be a lot of notifications (also fem reader please); #1 is giving mike schmidt head under his desk while he's at work and stuff , #2 is like playing with mike's hair and stuff to help him sleep and cuddling with him , and #3 is mike bending reader over his desk and going to down because he's had a pretty bad shift and needs to relieve stress. you can just do one or all, it's up to you

First of all, this is only one of these three requsts, the second one to be precise. The others will follow of course, don't worry. Until then, I hope that you enjoy this one. I had lots of fun writing this:D

So hear my Voice, remind you not to bleed

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:1.3k Warnings:tooth rotting fluff,kissing and hugging, that’s all, slight movie spoilers Summary:You knew that your Boyfriend had trouble falling asleep, so you did everything you could to help him find his way into sweet sweet dreamland…

Masterlist

You felt like shit. At least, that was the short version. And the longer one wasn't even that much longer. To put it simply, you had an awfully long week. And that was probably an underestimation.

You fought murderous animatronics, a creepy dude in a bunny costume, a feral cupcake and after all that shit, you barely escaped with your life. And while you were fortunate and had only obtained a few minor scratches and bruises here and there, Mike had a few life threatening flesh wounds and Vannesa was lucky to be alive at all, after her father had stabbed her.

Your Bones ached and your head was pounding, as you finally made your way home. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just ask your Boss to give you a few days off because you had several Animatronic-induced wounds scattered over your body. Heck, you were happy you didn’t just lose your job after not showing up for three days in a row.

All you could do was tell them that you got involved in a car accident and that you and your boyfriend had been in the hospital for a few days. Much to your favor, they believed you and the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital only backed up your little lie.

Your Mind was still racing, as you reached your little Home. It was already dark outside, as you stepped into the comfort of your Apartment. You saw Lights coming from the Living Room and the Sound of the TV slowly made its way into your Brain and pushed away the gruesome memories of the Pizza-Plex.

“Mike?”, You shouted into the darkness,”Abby? I’m Home.”

You didn’t receive an answer, so you quickly discarded your shoes and Jacket and walked into the Living Room. Only now, you noticed Abby sitting in front of the Sofa, drawing with her Crayons and listening to the sound of the TV.

“Hey Abbs.”, You smiled and leaned down to greet the little Girl. She practically beamed at you and gave you a small hug.

“Have You eaten yet? Where’s Mike?”, You quickly asked again as you rose back to your feet.

“Yes, we had Spaghetti with meatballs.”, Abby stated happily,”And Mike said he was tired and went to sleep already. He told me I could stay up for a little bit longer:”

“Okay then.”, You mumbled, gently running a hand through Abby’s Hair,”I’ll go join your Brother in Bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay Love?”

Abby nodded at you profusely before turning her focus back on the Half finished Drawing in front of her. You looked at her once more, before deciding to finally go see your Boyfriend in your shared bedroom. You knew that he was always tired. Even before you started dating. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

But after recent events, his insomnia seemed to get severely worse. He could barely fall asleep anymore and even if he did, he’d be awake again a few hours later, jumping up with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead. You always tried to comfort him and be there for him, but you still felt like you weren’t doing enough. Like, you should do more. But you didn’t know how.

With a sigh, You slowly pushed your bedroom door open. You were surprised as you realized that the lights were still on and Mike was sitting in the middle of the Bed, still fully dressed.

“Mike?”, You asked with furrowed brows,”Are You okay, my Love?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Only as you got closer and sat down next to him, he looked at you.

“S-Sorry, must’ve been lost in my thoughts again. I didn’t notice you coming in.”, Mike explained. His voice was raspy and tired. With a soft smile, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly:”It’s okay, don’t worry. You wanna go to sleep?”

Mike only gave you a nod and got up to change into his sleeping attire,which consisted of a Shirt and some sweatpants. You quickly followed him over to the wardrobe and before he could pull off his hoodie, you carefully hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love You.”, you uttered against his skin. You could see how the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the shiver that went down his spine.

“I love you too.”, Mike answered, taking a hold of your hands and turning around in your embrace. For the first time today he gave you a smile. A lazy one, but you saw that it was genuine. You quickly leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, before you connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. You felt his hands wander to your waist and he pulled you closer. Warmth radiated off of his Body, while his lips worked against your own in passion.

As you finally parted due to the lack of oxygen, both Mike and you were panting against each other's lips. It was quiet for a few minutes and no one said anything, while the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

But then you reached for the hem of his hoodie and as Mike realized what your plan was, he obediently raised his arms, so that you could pull the hoodie off of his body. After you let the Hoodie fall to the Floor, Mike grabbed the Hem of your sweater and the two of you repeated the whole action, but with your roles reversed this time.

It didn’t take long, until you were both in your sleeping attires after you lazily helped changing each other.

With a drowsy smile, You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him back towards the bed. You had of course noticed that his expression wasn’t really the happiest, as he was afraid of having nightmares again. He had told you about them. It was always the same. He saw Abby, Vanessa or You getting stabbed by William Afton and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move or scream. He just had to witness it.

“Come here.”, You mumbled and held out your hand as you saw that Mike was hesitating to lay down. His gaze wandered from the sheets to your face and it seemed like the soft smile you gave him did the trick on him. He gently grabbed your hand and let himself be pulled down by you. As his head was laying comfortably in the crook of your neck and your hands were slowly brushing through his hair, Mike let out a deep sigh.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you, Mike.”, You mumbled into his ear. You felt how his arms slung around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I know.”, Mike muttered under his breath,”You’re here.”

He took a deep breath in again, before you finally felt his body relax against yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

“Just concentrate on my voice.”, you said, soothingly rubbing his back with one hand, while the other still brushed through his hair to calm him down,“Listen to my voice. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”,

“You’re here with me.”, Mike repeated quietly. You only nodded and continued to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. And within Minutes, you felt his grip on you loosen ever so slightly, while his breath became more even.

With a soft smile, You kissed the crown of his head once more, before also letting your eyes fall shut. If Mike could sleep, you could sleep too. And if he woke up, You would wake up too, no matter what.

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moni-logues · 2 months

Text

Investment

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (Kintsugi couple!)

Genre: slice of life, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: Yoongi's tired of his job and terrified of making a change.

Content: no warnings! Just fluffy stuff

A/N: firstly, 'gardening leave' is what happens when, rather than working your notice period, the company pays you NOT to work. Secondly, AHHHH Kintsugi couple is back again. This is truly a drop in the ocean of what I've thought about for them lmao but as someone asked the other day about their future, here is a small glimpse into it!

You heard the door open and close and then Yoongi was immediately curling himself up in your lap.

“You’re late today, baby.”

“I know,” he mumbled, speaking into the fluff of your jumper. “I hate my job.”

You kissed the top of his head. This was not the first time he’d said that. Not even close. He had been saying it more and more frequently over the past few months and you weren’t quite sure what to do about it.

“I made dinner; do you want me to get you some?”

He shook his head again and you stroked his hair as you wondered what might help. A cat climbed up into his lap and you thought that might work but Yoongi barely noticed her.

“I could run you a bath? Do you want a bath?”

There was a second’s hesitation and then he nodded and sighed.

“That sounds nice.”

“Ok, I’ll run you a bath.”

And you moved, to get up, to go and start the task at hand but Yoongi gripped you tighter, a quiet noise of protest leaving his mouth.

“You know I have to get up if you want that bath.”

“Five more minutes.”

So you sat for five more minutes: you stroking Yoongi’s hair, he stroking the cat, and then he did, as promised, let you get up.

“Ok, bath is ready.”

You had done your best: the nicest bubble bath, candles, quiet classical music on in the background (because studies have shown it helps to reduce stress). Yoongi stripped and stepped into the hot water with a hiss; it was probably too hot, but you knew that was how he liked it. As hot as hell. Even hotter.

He sank into the water with a groan and you kissed his forehead before turning to leave. Your exit was stopped by your hand in his, which he would not drop. You turned to him.

“You come here,” he said, pointing to the bath.

“Me, too?”

He nodded, so you stripped as he had only a minute earlier and tentatively, slowly, and carefully lowered yourself into hell’s hot spring. You grimaced but eventually were able to settle, leaning back against Yoongi’s chest, tucking your face into his neck. He kissed your shoulder, once, and then again, and then made his way to your neck and your cheek.

“Would you still love me if I quit my job?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly.

“What if I had no job?”

“I’d still love you.”

“What if I were poor?”

“Still then, too.”

“What if I never got another job ever again?”

“I can support us.”

Yoongi snorted, softly and not unkindly.

“Not here.”

“No,” you conceded. “Not here, but I make more than I did before I moved in and I was supporting myself pretty decently. We could live ok together on just my salary. We’d eat.”

Yoongi’s arms grew tighter around you and he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“I love you,” he murmured into it.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“I’d never make you do that, you know.”

“I know. But I could. I would.”

He kissed your cheek.

“Do you want to quit your job?” you asked after a few moments’ silence.

Yoongi let the question hang and you didn’t push the issue. You knew he’d been struggling recently. That work wasn’t what it used to be. That he got no satisfaction from it. You saw him lie in bed and stare at the ceiling every morning before he absolutely had to get up. You saw him crawl home at night – never early, never on time, always late – and fall asleep on the sofa. You noticed how much less frequently he was doing the things he liked to. You noticed he wasn’t eating so much. You worried about it, but you didn’t know how to help. Because you felt sure that what he needed was to quit and you weren’t sure if he could.

That job had been his lifeline. His everything. It had been his way out. It had made him. He didn’t know what to do without it. Didn’t know how he would survive – except that, of course, he did know. He knew he would be fine. More than fine. He was smart and sensible and had a financial advisor who was worth every one of the many, many pennies he cost. If he were really smart about it, he probably could never work again.

But he still didn’t know how he would quit his job. His whole life he had dreamt of it. His whole life worked towards it. He was good at it. Great, even. He was well-respected. He was successful. He didn’t know what he would do if he failed. He didn’t know if quitting was failure. He saw his teenage self, his lost, lonely 18-year-old self arriving in Seoul for the first time with nothing but a rucksack and a heart full of terror and he saw that self curse at him for even considering handing in his notice.

It made him feel ungrateful. It made him feel arrogant. It made him look at his colleagues with something closer to contempt than it had ever been. Made him look at himself that way, too.

His therapist, Joan, the one he liked, the Australian in her mid-fifties who had studied abroad in Korea, met a man, and then lived here ever since, had asked him to talk to you about it. About quitting. Because you were part of his fear, too. What would you think if he quit? What if he couldn’t get another job? What if he lost all his money? Would you still respect him for being a quitter? Would you still want him if he couldn’t provide? How would you ever be able to marry and have children with him if he couldn’t support you?

He squeezed you tighter and kissed you, reminding himself that you were there. Reminding himself of the person you were. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave. He knew you would love him. He really did know it, but there was doubt deep in his heart that wouldn’t leave him.

You had let Yoongi lead the conversation on his job because you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. It felt too big, too significant to dare risk putting your foot in it. But then, you usually did just that; you would usually say anything, everything, to Yoongi. This felt like an exception because it went so far back into his past and so far down into the depths of his soul.

Maybe that actually made it all the more important that you dragged it to light.

“Ok,” you said, sitting up a little and twisting to look at him. “What would you do if you quit?”

He shrugged.

“Would it make you feel more confident about quitting if you had a plan?”

Yoongi shrugged again. Because he did have a plan. Or not so much a plan, but an idea. Something he’d thought about, been thinking about. Something he might want to do. Something that scared the shit out of him. He was still thinking, though; he didn’t know if he was ready to tell you.

“Well, if you want to try to make a plan, you know I’m here. And if you don’t want a plan, that’s ok, too. I want whatever you want, remember?”

You leant forward and kissed him lightly, twice, and then a third time because you just couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m on your side, baby,” you whispered, lips still close to his. “I’m always on your side.”

You lay next to Yoongi, later that night, bath water cooled, bodies dried, bed-ready. You were thinking about the day Yoongi might quit his job—what you could do for him, what he might want, how he might feel. He interrupted your thoughts.

“I might want to be a counsellor.”

You waited a second to absorb it, to bring your mind back around. It seemed obvious, now he had said it. Of course. Of course, that was what he would be. What he would do. How perfect for him.

“A counsellor? I think you’d be an amazing counsellor.”

“You do?”

You pushed yourself up so you could look at him, even though you could barely see a thing in the darkness. You used your hand to guide you, resting it against his cheek, fingers gently brushing hair from his brow.

“Yeah, I do. I think that’s a great idea.”

He hummed and you felt him nod.

“How would you do it? How do you qualify for that?”

There was the rub. That was the other reason he hadn’t wanted to say it. Because it would take years. He could do an accelerated course, so he’d qualify in two rather than four, but he didn’t know how long after that it would take him to make money, to be stable, secure.

The thing was that he wanted to marry you. Had been thinking about it. Had been trying to not want to quit his job so that he could just do it, ask you already. He wanted to marry you and stay happily in his job for the rest of his life so he could provide for you and however many kids you might or might not have; he wanted to ensure that they would be safe and secure, that you would be safe and secure. He could do that if he stayed in his job. He didn’t know if he could do it if he didn’t. And he didn’t want to propose to you under false pretences; didn’t want to propose while he earnt good money and then quit, then earn next to nothing, trap you into life with him when he didn’t know what he could give you.

That was why he hadn’t quit yet. That was the excuse he was giving himself. That was what Joan had really wanted Yoongi to talk to you about. Because when she had asked how you would feel if you knew these were Yoongi’s concerns, he answered. He knew the answers already. Joan thought hearing them from the horse’s mouth might help. She was probably right.

But he still didn’t want to ask you because he was scared of asking. Scared of raising the topic of marriage in case you didn’t want it.

That was why he couldn’t quit his job.

“It would take a couple of years,” he answered eventually. “I’d have to go back to university. To qualify. Not sure how long it would take after that to get established, to make good money.”

“You don’t have to make good money. I told you: I can support us.”

“And I told you I would never make you do that.”

There was an edge to his voice, an anger you knew wasn’t really directed at you. You let this one slide because you knew that even talking about quitting his job, doing something else, was hard enough for him.

“I have passive income,” he continued, voice softer, “and savings. It won’t be on you.”

“I don’t want you to use your savings, though.”

“That’s what they’re for.”

“You shouldn’t use them up if you don’t have to. I said I’m on your side and that means we’re a team, ok? Be a team with me. Let me help. I let you help me by not paying rent here, don’t I? Let me help you not use your savings.”

Because that was how you got through to him. You reminded him that you were in this together, that this was supposed to be about giving and taking, not just him giving and giving and giving. You wanted to give, too, and Yoongi liked giving you what you wanted.

“Well it’s not like it’s happening anyway,” he said. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. I really think you should do this. It sounds so good. It would be so exciting.”

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out the features of his face, allowing you to dip your head and kiss him.

“I know you hate your job, baby, and I want you to be happy. You deserve it. You deserve the opportunity to find out if there’s something else out there you can do. I think you can do it. And I’m always, always going to be here for you, no matter what happens. Promise.”

It didn’t come up again for a while and you didn’t raise it, leaving the ball in Yoongi’s court. Besides, he had seemed lighter since your conversation—like even discussing the possibility of something else was enough to lighten the load a little. You did your own research, looking at schools and trying to find out what he’d need and when, but you weren’t sure how much research he’d done, whether he knew what course he wanted to apply for, whether he’d applied for it already.

You decided to give him another couple of weeks. There would still be time after that for the application deadlines you’d seen (if they were even the right ones). It would give him a little more time to bring it up again. And if he didn’t, you would.

You leant heavily on the door handle as you opened it, tired from work, hungry, so, so ready for the weekend: a weekend in which you would lie down a lot and do little else, you hoped. You kicked your shoes off and two cats came skittering towards you. Then human feet appeared behind them and you looked up in shock.

“Baby!”

You leapt into Yoongi’s arms with a little too much force and he staggered back, laughing, holding you tight. He span you around in the air just once and you tottered on your feet when he placed you back down.

“You’re here! You’re- you’re early!”

He grinned and nodded.

“Yes and I’m making dinner.”

You kissed him hungrily, fingers tightly wound in his hair.

It had been so long since Yoongi had beaten you home from work that you couldn’t even remember the last time. Even longer still had it been since you’d seen Yoongi this happy on a work day.

You both walked to the kitchen and Yoongi poured you some wine. You hopped up on a bar stool and refused to let him go back to cooking; you wrapped your legs and arms around him and kissed him, relieved and excited and so damn happy to have him there, then, at that moment.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he pulled back from you and it sent a spark down your spine, woke the butterflies in your stomach.

“I quit my job.”

You gasped, your mouth open wide.

“No way!”

He nodded. You squealed with laughter, pulling him close, holding him tight, then letting him go to pepper kisses all over his face.

“You quit!”

He looked happy about it, sparkling, glowing, radiant even. He grinned at you until it faltered, a second of doubt passing over his face like a cloud.

“I should have told you,” he said, brow creasing. “We should have discussed it-“

You knew, though you couldn’t see them under his hair, that the tips of his ears were going red. You kissed him, cut him off mid-word.

“I like surprises,” you told him. “And I’m so happy for you.”

You brought your lips to his again, hoping to kiss him for long enough for his doubt to fade and pure joy to return.

“Does this mean you’ll be home on time now?”

He nodded.

“I’m enforcing working hours,” he told you, “not working whatever hours they ask.”

“Can you do that?”

“What are they going to do, fire me? I already quit. And if they want to put me on gardening leave, even better.”

He shrugged with a cavalier smirk.

He may have looked confident, but Yoongi’s heart was hammering in his chest, had been all day. He wondered when it would give out from the stress. He’d blocked out his entire morning for an ‘urgent, top priority’ problem: he sat in his office for three hours trying to get it together so he could go to his boss and hand in his notice. He hadn’t told anyone he was going to do it. He couldn’t take the pressure of anyone else knowing, though now, in hindsight, he wished he had told you (even if you did love surprises and even if he did love the glee on your face when he’d told you). Somehow, even after all this time, he was still not used to the fact that he didn’t have to do everything on his own. That he shouldn’t be doing things on his own. That he preferred doing them with you.

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours, his heart now hammering and fit to burst, pressing against his ribs as if it could break them. He was terrified. There was a pit of anxiety in his gut that felt endless, that made him unsure if he would be able to eat the dinner he was halfway through cooking. But he had you. In his life, in his heart, in his hands, on a stool in the kitchen of the apartment where you both lived. You knew he could do it. He wouldn’t let you be wrong.

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fluff #bts fluff

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navybrat817 · 5 months

Note

Do Stud and Smartie do a nice Thanksgiving or do they just have a relaxing day?

It would be low-key if they celebrated, nonnie!

So Thankful

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You share some laughs with Bucky while you cook together.

Word Count: Over 1.1k

Warnings: Puns (so many puns), fluff, being thankful, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for Stud and Smartie. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was Bucky’s idea to start cooking early so you could eat sooner and relax later. You were more than okay with that. While today reminded you of the blessings to count and memories to cherish, neither of you wanted to go overboard. A nice, simple meal to show that two of you were thankful for the good things in your life and each other was more than enough.

No traveling. No stress. Just each other.

I’ll always be thankful for you, Stud.

You glanced over at Bucky as he checked on the food in the oven before you went back to your task at hand. The kitchen was a safe haven in your apartment and making meals together was something you looked forward to no matter what the occasion. Though the space could be hectic at times with the banging pots and sizzling sounds, it was also an area to relax and have fun with your creations.

The impromptu dance breaks brought an extra layer of warmth in between cooking.

Bucky looked over your shoulder as he came up behind you with a small hum. “Looks good,” he commented as you added a pinch of spice to one of the side dishes.

You angled your head to brush your lips along his jaw and took a moment to breathe him in. He wrapped an arm around your waist in return and he pulled you close. “You look even better.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” you smiled.

“I'm a mess,” he mumbled, giving your jaw a kiss. “Don't even have a shirt on.”

“And I'm thankful for that,” you sighed dreamily. He said earlier that he’d put a shirt on once you finished cooking, but you would've been happy if he stayed in his sinfully sexy gray sweatpants only. “So, so thankful.”

“I don't think our families would appreciate me video chatting with them without my shirt on,” he joked.

You snorted as you tried to picture the look on your mom and dad’s faces. As much as you missed not seeing them today, the video chat would help. If Bucky really didn't wear a shirt, they would make light of it.

And nothing would top the hickey discussion, your cheeks hot from the memory alone.

“Becca would never let you hear the end of that,” you said, leaning back against him. “And you may have to put a shirt on, but you'll have to eventually get out of those pants.”

He chuckled deeply, your eyes fluttering shut when his mouth touched your ear. “Will you help me with that?”

“You know I will,” you replied, smiling to yourself. “And I hope this dinner won’t be the only thing filling me up tonight.”

Bucky pulled away from your ear before he burst out laughing, the happy sound reverberating in the room as his chest moved against your back. It was like he was sharing his laughter with you. “Well, I’d love to stuff your turkey,” he said once he caught his breath.

“Yeah?” You smirked, turning in his arms to face him. “You wanna butter my biscuits?”

What’s a day like this without puns?

His eyes crinkled like he was going to laugh again. “Oh, yeah. I’ll butter your biscuits real good,” he rasped. It wasn't fair that his puns sounded sexy while yours sounded ridiculous. “Maybe I'll candy your yams, too.”

“Oh, my God,” you giggled when he pushed his body against yours and pressed your back into the counter.

“I’m not God. I'm just Bucky,” he grinned, leaning in close enough that his lips touched yours. “But maybe I can show you my meat thermometer and you can drop to your knees like you’ll pray for me to put it in your mouth.”

I mean, yes.

“Okay, seriously. What the hell have you done with my Stud?” You demanded, trying to shove him back even as heat shot through your body. Your beefy man didn't even have the gall to budge.

“Just let me check your temperature,” he pleaded with an innocent stare, a great contrast to what he was offering. “Make sure you’re hot and ready.”

“How did you say that with a straight face? How?!”

“This is me. This is who you're marrying,” he said proudly, your cheeks warm at the reminder that the gorgeous man in your personal space was going to be your husband. The heat rose more when his gaze swept over your body. “And I can't decide what I want first. Thighs or breasts. Both are juicy and delicious.”

You sharply inhaled as his eyes darkened a shade. “I don't know if I want you to stop or continue, but I’m telling everyone at Friendsgiving this weekend what you said.”

He tilted his head as if he was contemplating the options. “I think you want me to continue, especially since the turkey isn't the only thing that needs basting.”

I’ve created a monster.

You giggled all over again, your side almost aching. “St-Stop,” you wheezed.

He framed your face and kissed the tip of your nose, his touch almost drawing a whimper from you as you calmed down. “I'm sorry,” he said sincerely before he smirked again. “Why don't I give you something to gobble on until we eat? It might help.”

I must stop this man.

“You think you’re so ‘punny’,” you said, resting your hands over his. And he was. He would always find a way to make you laugh.

The charming smile he gave you was almost hot enough to melt your panties. “I like to think I'm adorkable.”

Yes. Yes, you are.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “This is what I have to look forward to, huh? A lifetime of this?”

Bucky’s eyes went soft before he closed them, pulling you in for a deep kiss. He kissed you like it was as easy as breathing, open, steady, and natural. It was like the floor beneath your feet vanished. You floated, but his lips and tongue tethered you to him. It reminded you how loved you were.

And you would always be thankful that he gave you that gift.

“As long as you're by my side, it’ll be the best life I live,” he whispered, giving you another soft kiss. “And I’m very much looking forward to it.”

You had to swallow the tears in your throat. Who wouldn't choke up at that? “I’m looking forward to it, too,” you whispered, your heart racing at the fond look in his eyes. “And Stud?”

“Yeah, Smartie?”

You smiled, having to get one last pun in. “You’re welcome to mash my potatoes anytime.”

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Text

Let Me Try To Understand, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Being Stressed About School and Burnt Out

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Y/N isn't acting like she normally does and Rafe is on a mission to help her out.

Masterlist

As their first semester as sophomores comes to an end, Rafe has noticed the way that Y/N has been withdrawing from the world. He has been trying everything to get her to come out with him, but each text is met with a simple no thank you. Instead of anger filling him, worry is the only thing that Rafe can feel. He hasn’t been in her dorm often because his private room in the frat house is more intimate for them. He quietly knocks on the door, waiting for someone to let him in. Very little light from the room spills into the hallway. Y/N’s hair looked a little greasy, so she threw it up into a bun. She is wearing a large oversized hoodie with sweatpants that are just a little too big for her. Her eyes are droopy and she looks like her soul has been sucked out of her body. The smile that normally spreads across her face doesn’t appear and this tells Rafe that something is wrong. “Angel, are you okay? You haven’t been answering my text,” he questions, stepping closer to her with his hands reaching for her shoulder. She uncharacteristically steps away from his hold, “Yeah, I’ve been busy.” She doesn’t add anything to her statement.

“Oh. Well, maybe I can just hang out in your room right now. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he offers, hands falling to his side. She shakes her head, trying to push him out the door, “Rafe, I really don’t want to be around anyone right now. Can you go?” “I will, but I can tell something is wrong. Your room is so dark. It’s not like you,” he confesses.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then let me try to understand, Angel. I can’t do that if you try to push me away. Maybe, I can help or I can just listen.”

At the offer of having someone to vent to, a huge weight feels like it is being lifted off of her shoulders. She collapses into his arms and buries her head into his chest. “I just feel so burnt out. Everything I have to do, even the smallest of tasks, takes so much out of me. I haven’t read a page of my book since last week. I’m just going through the motions of life. I don’t think I can do this anymore, Rafe,” she rants to him. His hand smoothes down her hair and he kisses her temple, “I’m so sorry, you are feeling this way. What can I do to help lighten your load? Do you want me to pay someone to do the rest of your assignments? Because I will. I will do anything to help you.” She lets out a snotty giggle with a shake of her head, “No, no. I can get through my own assignments. But do you think I can stay at your house for a few days and can we take a shower together?” This would be something new to them. She stays at his house a lot, but she only sleeps over every other day. This would be the first time she slept more than two nights in a row at his house. “I just need to be with you,” she adds in a whisper. He kisses her head, “Of course, you can stay as long as you want. Why don’t you take a really quick power nap? I’ll pack your stuff up for you.”

As she watches her boyfriend get her stuff into bags, she can’t help but be grateful that she met someone as caring and loving, whose attention is always on helping her well-being.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama

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unseededtoast · 8 months

Text

One Bright Morning | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After experiencing the most traumatic moment of your life, Spencer helps guide you through the darkness into one bright morning that changes the both of you. (Based off of "First Light" by Hozier)

Cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings: Violence, angst, light smut. Poorly edited

a/n: Howdy y'all, this is my second Spencer oneshot based off a Hozier song and honestly at this point i think i might just create a Spencer fic for every song on Unreal Unearth. Anyways, here's my masterlist if you wanna check out my other stuff:)

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel.

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment.

Your forehead is slick with sweat, your stomach tied into knots as you pace back and forth. Shaking hands push away the hair falling into your face and you know you have to do something soon, or the little girl is going to die. Your mind swims in all the information the team has collected about the unsub so far, trying to identify any leverage you can use in a last ditch effort to save the hostage's life.

"Does anybody have anything?" Your voice is thick with stress and tension, a bead of sweat rolls down your back. The quick pitter patter of your heart echoes in your ears and it's almost like a ticking time bomb.

"We've tried every angle we can think of." Morgan answers, equally as stressed out. But you can't accept that answer, there has to be something.

"What if I go in? Offer myself for her? He might think he can use me to get out of this situation." You're already taking off your bulletproof vest to carry out the mission, but Hotch puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you from taking it all the way off.

"No, it's too risky. We know he's suffering from hallucinations and if you walk in there he might just kill you." He explains, but you fight his hand off your shoulder. Maybe it's just the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you can't understand why the team isn't doing more to save the girl.

"And if we don't do anything she's for sure going to die." Before he can protest, you shove your vest into his hands and make your way to the house across the street.

The team had tried to negotiate with the unsub, feeding him false promises of a safe getaway and immunity, but he hadn't taken them. He explained that in order for the victims soul's to be saved, they had to die before they could "commit an unforgivable sin". He's convinced he's saving their souls, but what he's actually doing is mutilating young girls in their own homes and leaving their bodies for their families to find. Unfortunately for him, you and the rest of the team had interrupted his salvation of this girl and unfortunately for the team, he had taken the girl hostage and is unwilling to let her go.

The house he's blockaded himself in is a typical, unassuming suburban home. The landscaping is manicured to perfection, the lawn is trimmed neatly, but behind the white door is a deranged murderer with a knife to an eight year old's throat. Your feet quickly carry you to the door and with heavy, shaky breaths, you knock on the door and speak to the unsub.

"I want to be saved." You tell him, hoping to appeal to his delusion. There's a loud crash in the house and you hear the girl cry out.

"Please, I want to be saved." You say with more urgency. Twisting the handle of the door, you slowly make your way in, not seeing the unsub or the little girl anywhere in immediate view. After a few seconds of silence, you hear the girl's muffled cries.

"I know you can save me. Please, help me." You beg, making your way towards the sound. As you round the corner into the kitchen, you see the unsub holding the knife directly over the girl's carotid artery. Your eyes dance from the blade to the psychopath holding it and see nothing but pure evil within him.

"Don't move another step. I know you're one of them." He yanks the girl back, further into his hold and you put your hands out in front of you to show him you're unarmed. Your head shakes, denying his claim.

"They're wrong. They don't understand the mission." Another small step is taken towards the man, and for a second you see his resolve starting to falter.

"No, they don't. I'm just trying to save them!" He cries out, seeming to be in agony. Another step is taken towards him. You're only ten feet away from him, if things keep going well you might just be able to get the girl from his grasp.

"Save me. Please, I want to be saved." You boldly take two more steps forward but freeze on the spot when he jerks back with the girl, pressing the blade more tightly to her neck.

"You can't be saved. No, not you. You've already committed an unforgivable sin. But she can still be saved. Yes, she can still be saved." His gaze moves from you to the crying girl, his voice becoming more stable.

You see a sick smirk crawl its way onto the man's face, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye before he readjusts his grip on the blade. As if time suddenly begins moving in slow motion, you see him tilt his head back like he's experiencing euphoria and his arm makes one clean swiping motion. Reaching out in a last ditch effort, you try to still his motion, but it's too late. You were too late.

Your body knocks into the man's and sends him tumbling to the ground. The fountain of blood released from the girl's neck splatters your face, she chokes and gurgles as she falls to the floor. Ignoring the man, you collapse beside the girl, holding your hands to her neck in a frenzied attempt of saving her life. You get tunnel vision, the only thing you can see is the girl and how the light slowly dims in her eyes.

At some point, you must have screamed out and alerted the others, because several pairs of hands are dragging you away from the girl. You fight them with all the strength you have left, reaching out for her small body, desperately trying to help her as her crimson blood drips through your fingers.

A team of EMTs rushes into the house past you and you see them leaning over the girl before you're taken away from the scene. You feel your chest tighten, your heartbeat race, and you're not able to form a coherent thought. All that consumes your mind is the little girl and how you were right there. You were right there and you still weren't able to save her.

-----

Days later you walk back into the office, running on maybe five hours of sleep since the incident. You had been given instructions to take three days off before coming back in and you know the team had to deal with the fallout of your shortcoming. In fact, you walked in with your badge and gun in hand, fully prepared to be suspended.

The atmosphere in the office is noticeably tense. Everyone is quiet with their heads down doing their jobs. Without greeting your team like normal, you duck your head and make a straight route towards your desk, trying to make as little sound as possible when you take your seat. Placing your gun and badge beside your computer, you see a single file laying on your desk. There are usually about ten.

Trying your best to keep your composure, you open the file and are met with a blank incident report. Unable to think about filling it out, all you can do is blink back at the white paper. What do they expect you to say? Thankfully, you're ripped from going down that rabbit hole by a hand touching your shoulder. Looking over, you see Hotch with a somber look on his face.

"Why don't you follow me?" His voice is quiet, and you agree wordlessly, following him into his office. As you walk through the office, you try to commit it to memory just in case this is your last day here.

Once you reach Hotch's office, you take a seat in front of his desk and wait for him to say something. You're keenly aware that you deserve to be suspended and reprimanded for you actions, or lack thereof, seeing as how you blatantly ignored orders.

"None of us blame you." His words shock your system, eyebrows drawing tightly together and lips falling apart in confusion.

"But-" You try to condemn yourself, but he holds up a finger to stop your words.

"All of us here have lost someone. Some more than others. It comes with the territory of the job, this is only your second year and you have a lot to learn. But with that said, you did ignore orders to not engage. For that, we cannot let you back in the field until you're deemed fit again. You're to stay here and help from the office while we go to case sites." Your mouth feels dry as he speaks, and you can't understand why your punishment isn't more harsh. An eight year old girl died because of you and all you're getting is a slap on the wrist?

"But-" You try to convince him again that you deserve worse, but he cuts you off again.

"Don't say anything. Go back to your desk and do your job." He orders you away, and this time you listen to him. Your walk back to your desk is a blur, mind fuzzy with questions you don't have the answer to. You feel several pairs of eyes on you, but you ignore them and go back to staring at the blank white paper that waits for you.

-----

Hours pass by, and you've made no progress on the report. You thought that maybe a change of scenery would help, and so you relocated to the break room with only the paper and a single pen. The team is already preparing to leave on their next assignment, and all except you and Spencer are going. Spencer had volunteered to stay behind and help Garcia, which he did on occasion.

You hear the team approaching the break room, preparing to leave, and so you quickly grab the pen and act like you're writing something useful. They come in and grab last minute snacks, telling you that they'll be back in a few days and you give them the best smile you can muster and watch with a tired soul as they walk out to catch the next monster.

"You know that's not true, right?" A voice behind you startles you, causing you to jump and drag a line of black ink across the paper. Spencer is standing behind you, coffee cup in hand.

"What?" You ask, not having the slightest idea of what he means. He takes a seat beside you at the table, his eyes locked onto the paper you had been scribbling your thoughts on.

"What you're writing. It's not true." You look from his face down to the paper to see what exactly you wrote. You're not entirely sure yourself.

She died right in front of me because I was slow. I was too slow and she's gone. She was right there. Right there.

The words accurately reflect the rhetoric that's been repeating itself inside your mind around the clock. You can't seem to find the lie he so obviously sees. You've been working with Spencer for two years now, and his mind still amazes you. But even geniuses are wrong sometimes. With a shake of your head, you bite the inside of your cheek and stare at the words.

"It's exactly what happened though." You confess, clearly remembering how the man had time to enjoy slitting the girl's throat. And you were still too slow.

"You tried to feed into his delusions, it was the only play we had left. And you were probably the best one to approach him, seeing as how you most closely resembled his victims." He explains with a wave of his free hand. Your eyes meet his and you see that he's being sincere. You've never been good at expressing your emotions, and so you try to deflect the ones bubbling up inside you.

"Spencer, are you saying I look like a ten year old girl?" You know he's only trying to help you deal with your fresh trauma, but you can't help yourself from making the comment. Used to your antics, his mouth flattens into a straight line.

"You do not look like a ten year old girl but seeing as how you're the youngest one on the team it was the best we shot we had." He follows up his explanation. You appreciate the effort he's making to make you feel better, you just wish it worked. With a sigh, you crumple the paper up and toss it across the room, barely missing the trash can.

"Don't say anything, I'm getting it." You preemptively dismiss the comment you know he's about to make. No matter how many times you try to sink a paper ball into the trash, you always end up missing somehow, and Spencer is always there to keep track of just how many you've missed.

"One hundred forty three." He quickly says before quickly moving out of the break room. A ghost of a smile finds its way onto your face and you pick up the pen you left on the table, going to search for a new report page.

-----

Unfortunately, by the end of the day, the report still had not been completed. You're unable to look at this case objectively, and you entertain the idea of asking Spencer to do it for you. But that would still mean you have to tell him what happened, and you know there's no chance those words can find their way out of your mouth.

The clock on the wall indicates that the work day is over, and so you close the blank paper inside the brown folder, vowing that tomorrow you will finish it. You don't want to stay here, but you also don't want to go home. But you guess it doesn't matter, no matter where you are you know the nightmares will find you in the dark.

Everyone leaves the office, save for you and Spencer, who's working over to finish his case backlog. Though in your two years here you've never known him to have a backlog. His insane memory is always allowing him to fly through reports three times faster than the rest of the team. But you're too tired, physically and emotionally, to delve into why he has a backlog now.

Realizing you've been staring at your desk for the past thirty minutes, you decide you can't stay here overnight. Standing from your desk you rub the drowsiness from your eyes and weakly smile to Spencer, who looked over to see what you were doing.

"See you bright and early." Your voice is soft as you push your chair back in.

"Wait, let me at least walk you out to your car. It's dark out there now." He says, standing from his own desk. You shake your head, not wanting to inconvenience him.

"That's okay Spencer, I'll be fine. But thank you." You try to dismiss him, but he's already got his jacket slung over his shoulders.

"I was just finishing up anyways." He says, and you're skeptical of how much of his statement is the truth. But you don't fight it, and let him accompany you to your car. After hours the office is eerily quiet, and you find yourself being thankful he wanted to walk you out.

"At least let me take you home, as a thank you." You say as you two walk out of the office doors into the parking lot. The chilly fall air infiltrates the thin shirt you're wearing, your breath evaporating in the air in a translucent white cloud.

"Sure, thank you." He says with a smile and the two of you climb into your car.

Spencer gives you directions to his apartment and you find out he only lives two blocks away from you. How you had never known this is a mystery. But had you have known you would've made the effort to offer him a ride more often. You park your car just outside of the building and look over at him, his hazel eyes illuminated beautifully by the amber glow of the streetlamp.

"I live just down the street." You break the silence as he unbuckles the seatbelt.

"And after all this time we've never seen each other outside of work." He points out and you smile,

"Well, this counts, right?" He lets out a small laugh and goes to open the door, but stops short of swinging it open. His lips open and close a few times, like he can't decide what he wants to say before he looks deep into your eyes once more, like he can see your mind through your pupils.

"You know, if it ever gets to be too much to deal with, you can tell me. I know how torturous thoughts can become." You're at a loss for words, but manage to nod your head. Spencer isn't known for openly extending empathy to very many people, in fact, you've only seen him do it twice so far. It's a break from the normal dynamic you two share and it throws you off for a second.

"Yeah, thank you." You say as he opens the door, leaving your passenger seat. He waves goodbye before he enters the building and you make sure he gets in before leaving for your own apartment, his words lingering in your head. What had happened to him to be able to understand such torment?

-----

A girl cries in front of you, her crimson tears flowing down her face and puddling on the floor. She's begging you to help her, to save her. Each time she's within reach, she slips right through your fingers and her agonizing screams ring inside your head.

Just like last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, you're awoken with a start. Panicked eyes stare down at your hands, expecting to see them coated in a thick layer of bright red blood, only to find that they've been scrubbed clean. In fact, they've been scrubbed so viciously that there are scratches from your nails evident on your knuckles.

Your head falls into your hands and you take in a shaky breath. The clock on your bedside table shows you that you've only managed to get two hours of sleep. But hey, it's more than last night so you guess you can't complain. Dragging yourself out of bed, you decide to get a shower, knowing that you're not going back to sleep.

As the scalding water trickles over your body, your mind is once again a chaotic mess. The girl's screams echo in your mind accompanied with questions about your effectiveness as an agent. If you were unable to save a girl within your reach, how good of an agent can you really be? How many more people will die as a result of your incompetence? Dwelling on that answer is almost enough to send you into an episode, but the hot water runs out and the cold shocks your system.

You step out and wrap yourself in a towel, but are unable to shake the thoughts away that easily. If you couldn't save that girl, how many do you expect to save? If you couldn't save her, then you won't be able to save others. And if that's the case, why are you still on the team? Your purpose is to protect and save people who are targeted by deranged killers, and if you can't fulfill that purpose, then what exactly are you doing? Wouldn't it just be better to give up your spot for someone who's more competent? Someone who can actually save people?

Your body moves as if it's been put on autopilot as you get ready for the day, hours earlier than what is necessary. Instead of holing up like a prisoner in your own home, you pull your shoes on and grab your keys, deciding to go for a walk and then head into work early.

It's still too early out for most people to be heading into work, so the streets are practically yours for now. A dense fog has settled across the roads and the crickets chirp all around. It's almost serene. Your feet begin wandering down streets with no real path or destination in mind, the coolness of the air helps keep you awake.

For about an hour you meander the streets until the clock on your phone shows that it's almost time to leave for work. When you reach your car, your gaze freezes on your passenger seat. Though you commute to work alone every day, the car feels empty now.

You don't drive yourself to work right away. Instead, you find yourself parked outside of Spencer's building, waiting for him to walk out so you can offer him a ride. It doesn't take long before he's walking towards your car, confusion clear on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, opening the passenger door and getting in.

"I just figured you might enjoy a break from public transit." You smile softly at him before merging into traffic and taking the two of you to work.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the trip and once you park in front of the office building, you stop him from getting out by reaching a hand over the middle console and resting it on his bicep.

"How did you know that I was having bad thoughts?" Your voice is raw and you're sure you look exhausted. You're sure if your superiors found out about these thoughts that your punishment would be extended, but you're far too curious. He sighs,

"Persistent intrusive thoughts about a traumatic event are common. In fact, these thoughts can lead to insomnia and a change in normal daily functions." He explains like he's reading the words straight from a textbook. But you know it's more than that, it has to be. The way he offered his help yesterday was more reminiscent of someone who's lived through something similar. Empathy cannot be learned from a book.

"Right. Do they ever go away?" You don't push him to give you any answers about his own trauma, but you desperately want to know that these thoughts will eventually go away. Spencer glances down at your hand gripping his jacket,

"Sometimes they leave for a while. But, they don't ever leave forever." His answer is not what you had hoped for, but you know he wouldn't lie to you. You release him from your grip and clear your throat, turning your car off and getting out.

You know if the roles were reversed that you would suggest he seek out professional help. It's only the most logical way to deal with this sort of thing, but you know that you can't face a doctor and tell them about how you relive that girl's death every night. They'd surely diagnose you with something and you'd be kicked off the team.

But maybe being dismissed from this job would be the best thing for you. If you're unable to move on from this incident, how can you expect to function like everything is fine? And if something like this happens again, what will happen? Will you crumble completely?

As you step into the elevator, you can't help but wonder if the loss is worth it. Not only the loss of victims, but the loss of yourself as well. You feel the change within you, like a piece of you is fractured beyond repair.

Spencer and you part ways and begin your workload for the day. The blank white paper still waits for you. ----- The rest of the team had made it to the next site and had called Spencer and Garcia for their help. Of course, you used this as an excuse to abandon the report on your desk, insisting that you can be of some help to them. They're both geniuses and you know there's nothing you can do that they can't, but they let you join them anyways.

"Look for white males, aged twenty to forty, who recently experienced a severe head trauma." Derek speaks through the speaker and you watch in amazement at how fast Garcia is able to filter through hospital records.

"I've got one. Sending it over now." She drags and drops the file into a message and sends it off to the team.

"What would I do without you, baby girl?" You can practically hear Morgan's smile through the phone. His playful ways with Garcia had landed everyone in a presentation about inappropriate work relationships last year and you can clearly see they disregarded every piece of information shared there.

The phone clicks and goes silent, leaving the three of us crammed into Garcia's office and you can't help but feel like you're inconveniencing her and Spencer. You stand from your seat and dismiss yourself, telling them you're going to work on a report and to holler if they need you. You know they won't, but at least you offered.

Sitting back down at your desk, you grab your pen and convince yourself that you're going to write at least one good sentence. You need to have this done by the time Hotch gets back and at this rate you won't even have it done by Christmas.

Taking a deep breath, you tap the pen against the desk before putting it to the paper. You hold it there for so long that an ink blob begins bleeding through the document, and so you start moving it across the paper.

At approximately 4:47 pm EST on October 16, 2023 the Behavioral Analysis Unit from Quantico, Virginia, responded to a hostage situation that resulted in two deaths.

You stare at the sentence you had managed to write and wonder if you can just leave the report as is. Technically it is what happened. But you know that you have to fill in the details. Perhaps that part of it can wait just a little longer.

Deciding you've put in all the effort you can manage for now without slipping into another downward spiral or gruesome memories, you decide to go waste some time in the break room.

There's not much to do, but you make it seem like organizing the coffee mugs in the cupboard is the most vital mission you've encountered to date. And thankfully it keeps your mind distracted from everything falling apart inside your mind.

-----

Garcia and Spencer don't call on you to help them for the rest of the day, much to your dismay. You were hoping they'd at least take pity on you and let you do something insignificant. But perhaps they don't even trust you with the most menial tasks.

You sit at your desk at the end of the day and see others leave the offices, bidding each other goodbye for the weekend. The rest of the team will be back on Monday and you still only have one sentence written in your report that's sure to exceed ten pages if you do it correctly.

"Hey, staying late again?" You hear Spencer ask as he returns from Garcia's office. Spinning around in your seat to face him, you nod your head.

"Yeah." You reply without much enthusiasm, glancing back at the paper. He must think you're completely inadequate at your job because you've been unable to complete a single report in two days. If he's been secretly tasked with keeping tabs on your progress for Hotch, surely there is no good news to report.

"Why don't you take it with you? Work on it over the weekend?" He suggests, and it's not a bad idea. It would surely beat sticking around an empty office all weekend. But truthfully, you're not sure an empty house will be much better.

"You're probably right." You pick up the file and get ready to leave the office with Spencer, who has his belongings in his arms. The two of you walk down to the parking lot and he starts heading towards the bus station.

"Hey, I can take you." You offer, stopping him in his tracks. He looks between you and your car, almost like he's not sure if he should take you up on your offer. But eventually, he walks over and takes a seat in the passenger seat.

"Thank you." He says, fastening his seatbelt. You back out of the parking spot and make your way towards his apartment. Thankfully he says nothing about the fact you took the longest route possible.

"Any fun weekend plans?" You ask him as you pull up to the curb, stalling to keep here as long as possible, so that you're not left alone with your mind. He rests back in the seat slightly and puffs out some air as he shakes his head.

"What's fun for me doesn't always fit other people's definition." There's a small smirk on his face and you know he's either about to devour an entire book series in two days or learn an entirely new skill. He's always looking for ways to expand his knowledge, and you admire that about him.

"Well, as long as you enjoy it then who cares?" You shoot back, watching as he gathers his bag up in his hands and opens the door.

"Apparently our coworkers. But thank you for the ride, see you Monday." He bids you goodbye and you watch as he walks into the building. You don't leave for your home right away, instead you lean your forehead against the steering wheel and become frustrated with yourself. Since when are you scared of being alone with your own thoughts?

-----

"Save me. Save me. Save me. SAVE ME!" The girl screams in your face, blood dripping out from her mouth and onto your body. Your hands desperately try to stop the bleeding, but it's no use and soon her chanting ceases and she crumples to the floor. Her dull eyes stare widely at the ceiling and you're left covered in her blood. You're acutely aware of how it's sinking into the crevices of your skin, drying in your hair, becoming part of you.

Just like every night for the past week you awake from the nightmare. A sheer layer of sweat covers your body and you can't take it anymore. These nightmares are driving you out of your mind. You haven't slept for more than three hours straight over the past week and you start feeling like you'd do anything to be released from your own thoughts.

You push yourself out of bed and into your bathroom where you splash cool water on your face. You're well aware that you're getting into a very bad headspace, and being alone is doing nothing to help the situation. If you keep heading down this path with no help, there's no saying how much of yourself you will lose. Or what your thoughts will drive you to do.

Bloodshot eyes stare back at you in the mirror and you hardly recognize yourself. The dark circles under your eyes make you look like a cheap halloween decoration, your cheeks are sullen. You look miserable. You are miserable. Tearing your gaze away from yourself, you put some decent clothes on and grab your keys off the dining room table.

The air outside is crisp, dew gently rests on the blades of grass and the moonlight illuminates the sidewalks. The nocturnal animals sing their songs, their tunes carrying throughout the night. You almost feel a part of them, the nighttime animals, as you just meander the streets for another night with no destination set.

You turn down an empty street and hear the thumping of music approaching from the main road. Probably teenagers enjoying their weekend night without parental supervision. The music gets closer and closer and you see their headlights start casting a shadow of yourself on the sidewalk.

"Catch!" You hear a boy yell from the car out of the window, and you turn to see what's going on.

Before you can process what's happening, you feel something collide with your chest and your skin becomes wet. Looking down you see that they had thrown a drink at you, some sort of syrupy mess but you're not concerned with what it is; just what it looks like. Dark red syrup covers your hands and your shirt and you can't stop yourself from starting to hyperventilate.

Your chest begins rapidly heaving, your hands start shaking and it feels like your knees are going to give out. It looks too real, and it's on your skin. It's seeping into your skin and it's on your clothes. And it's on your face and in your hair. It's everywhere.

"No, no, no no no no.." Your repeat to yourself, trying to rid your skin of the syrup, but all it does it smear and glide across your skin, spreading itself all over you. Your nails claw at your hands trying to get rid of it but it just won't leave. Panicked tears fall from your eyes and you look around, seeing that you're all alone in the middle of the street.

Without thinking, you start moving towards a familiar building. Your body is on autopilot and it feels as if you're practically flying down the street. It could've taken you twenty minutes to get there, but it felt like five seconds. Once you're on the doorstep your sticky, red-laden fist knocks on the door. You can hear your rattling breaths as if it's from a distance and your vision begins to contort, making you dizzy. You knock again, having enough knowledge that you need him to open the door before something worse happens.

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel.

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment.

He takes the jacket off your shoulders and helps you step out of your shoes, a vivid look of worry plastered all over his face.

"What happened?" His voice is concerned as he places his hand on your back, leading you into the kitchen. He wets a cloth and gently starts to wipe the red from your trembling hands. With each pass of the cloth, your skin regains its natural color and you feel your breathing begin to level back out. It's leaving your skin, it's washing off.

"I was outside and someone threw something. And then I don't know what happened, it's like my brain just snapped and I couldn't control myself, all I knew is that I had to get here." You try to explain it to him the best way you can, still feeling an adrenaline buzz. You half expect him to give you some clinical diagnosis, but he remains quiet.

His warm hand envelopes one of yours as he wipes the remaining syrup from your arms. Your face starts to feel stiff from the drying tears, and your eyes move from your skin to Spencer's face, who is standing less than a foot away, tenderly cleansing your skin. Guilt washes over you as you realize that you've just interrupted his weekend, intruded on his free time.

As your senses start to clarify, the guilt intensifies and you pull your hand away from his grasp. You can't believe you actually ran all the way here because some teenage kid threw something at you. How juvenile. He takes a step back from you and scans over your body, sending a self-conscious pang down your spine.

"I um, I'm sorry Spencer. I shouldn't have come here and I'm sorry if I interrupted your weekend." You tumble over your own words and go to leave his apartment, already mentally kicking yourself for knocking on his door. His hand on your shoulder stops you from walking to the front door, and he gives you a certain look you've never seen on him before. His eyes are tender and soft.

"Don't be sorry, I'm glad you came. I told you I was here to help." His voice is kind and gentle, and you're grateful for him.

"I can go back home, I think I'll be okay." You can't help but feel as if you're still inconveniencing him and make one more move towards the door which gets stopped by him again. He shakes his head,

"No, it's okay. Go sit on the couch and I'll get you some clean clothes to change into. What kind of tea would you like?" Your heart swells at his tenderhearted words. Your feet shuffle against the hardwood floor and you position yourself at the edge of his leather couch, careful to not get any of the stickiness on it.

"Um, anything is fine, thank you." Your throat begins feeling scratchy, probably from how violently you sobbed the entire way over here. He nods before disappearing into his apartment and your eyes travel around his place. You've never been here before and you're curious as to what he's like, what his tastes are.

It's not far off from what you expected. The color scheme is simple, the walls an earthy green and the lamp in the corner emits a soft amber glow. In true Spencer fashion, there's also a multitude of books, both laying on a coffee table and adorning bookshelves. It's calming.

He walks back into the room and hands you a change of clothes, which feel warm, as if they just came from the dryer. Spencer shows you to the bathroom and tells you that he'll be in the kitchen while you get changed. You strip from your clothes and try to fold them as neatly as you can, not wanting to make more of a mess in his home. He had given you a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants, which you already know are going to be too long, but you're thankful nonetheless.

The sweatshirt easily falls over your head and it smells like fresh laundry and Spencer. You breathe in the smell and it makes you feel secure. And just like you thought, the pants are far too long, but you roll up the legs and make it work. Before you join him in the kitchen, you try to rinse out the red syrup from your hair, knowing that if you don't get it out now that it'll be ten times harder to wash when it dries.

Once you're satisfied, you open the door and quietly walk back down the hall to the kitchen, where Spencer is standing with two mugs in his hands. He looks over you once and offers you one of the drinks. Steam rises from the top and you smell the chamomile. The warmth of the drink soothes your throat, and you follow Spencer back into his living room, resuming your position on his couch. He sits at the other side and you look over at him, feeling an intense sense of gratitude.

"Thank you, Spencer." You whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness. He places his mug on the coffee table beside an open book and his lips curl into a soft smile.

"Anytime. I know you'd do the same for me." He says and you nod, knowing he's right. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find just the right words.

"I don't think I'm okay. I don't feel safe being alone with my thoughts. I can't sleep without seeing her." You admit to him, no longer caring if he reports this to Hotch on Monday. You chew on your bottom lip with anxiety, feeling exhausted from suffering. Expecting to find him looking at you, analyzing you, you delay meeting his gaze only to see that he looks empathetic.

"I know what you mean. I barely slept for two weeks when mine started." His voice is raspy, yet gentle. Your head shakes as you take another sip of warm tea.

"How do you deal with it?" You're desperate for answers, knowing you can't keep functioning this way. He sighs,

"One day at a time. I put off confiding in someone for a long time, probably too long. But this isn't something to deal with alone." The two of you lock eyes, and for the first time since the incident, you almost feel at ease.

"Am I going to be kicked off the team?" There's worry evident in your voice, and you're scared of his answer.

"No. If they got rid of everyone who has dealt with trauma from the job there would be no behavioral analysis unit." He says with a small smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood. You take another sip of tea and allow yourself to relax into the leather of his couch. His presence alone is enough to make you feel safe.

"Are you going to tell the others?" You ask, looking down into the tea, watching it swirl gently around the ceramic. He readjusts on the couch.

"No." He says, much to your surprise, but you're thankful he's not reporting back to Hotch about how you've been doing.

The two of you let the conversation fall back into a silence, and you finish off the tea. Your body feels relaxed and warm, your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Leaning back into the comfortable cushions, your eyes close and you take a deep breath, thankful for the little moment of peace. You're not sure how much time passes, but you feel Spencer tapping you on the shoulder. Fluttering your eyes open you see him standing beside you.

"Follow me." He quietly instructs, gesturing for you to go with him down the hall. Without thinking of why, you blindly follow his orders. He leads you into a dark room, his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the shadows. Spencer sits you down on a bed and an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you can't let him do this for you.

"Stay here tonight, I'll be in the living room." His hand leaves your back but you reach out and grab his wrist before he can leave.

"No, Spencer, this is your home. I can't." You tell him and stand from his bed, which is admittedly very comfortable. He turns to face you fully and sits you back on the bed, his hands on your shoulders.

"Please?" He asks, and you're not sure why he's being so generous. He's already done more than enough for you tonight, and now he's giving you his bed. The man doesn't like to shake peoples' hands because of germ transfer, and here he is letting you stay in such an intimate place of his? You can't wrap your head around it.

Though you feel sleepy, there's an uneasy feeling in the back of your head and you know what will happen if you go to sleep; you'll see her again. You reach your hands to rest atop of his on your shoulders and look up at him through the darkness, just barely able to make out his features.

"Stay with me." You whisper and let his hands go so that he doesn't feel trapped. In the darkness you see his shoulders tense, and you wish you could take your words back. But to your surprise, he nods his head and makes his way around to the other side of the bed. He pulls the covers back and slowly gets in, and you lay down, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

Your heart pounds in your chest and you reach across the soft blankets for his hand, needing it to ground you, to remind you that you're not here alone. His larger hand engulfs yours and his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand. Your eyes close and before you understand what's happening, you fall asleep.

-----

Bright, almost blinding, sunlight breaking through curtains stirs you awake and you open your eyes to find that you're not in your own room. Your mind takes a moment to remember where you are and your muscles relax when you realize where you are. But the relaxation is short-lived as you realize that it's not a pillow in front of your face, that you're in fact resting your forehead against Spencer's chest, your hand still entwined with his.

A moment of pure fear strikes you and you try to untangle yourself from him without disturbing him. Surely if he woke up and saw this he'd be uncomfortable. Gently, you try to extract your hand from his, but instead of being able to separate, he squeezes your hand tighter. Your eyes trail up from your hands to his face, seeing that he's already opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry I don't, I didn't mean-" You try to manage the fallout of your actions, but he shushes you.

"It's okay. How did you sleep?" His voice is deliciously raspy, and it distracts you from answering the question for just a second longer than it should've.

"Um, good. I didn't see her." You admit and lean back so that you can more clearly see his face. His curly hair is disheveled and his eyes are still clouded with drowsiness. His soft, pink lips turn upwards into a smile.

"That's great." He says and closes his eyes once more, keeping your hand in his. Your tense body eases once more as you realize that he's not uncomfortable. You know him well enough by now to understand that if he were uncomfortable, he wouldn't still be here.

You rest your forehead against his chest again, savoring the warm and comforting smell of him. The two of you are entangled with one another under the cozy blankets, and you're perfectly content with staying just like this for as long as possible.

As you drift back off into a sleep, you feel Spencer move around and feel his soft lips press a delicate kiss to your forehead. Instinctually, you lean into him, nuzzling your nose into the space where his neck meets his shoulder.

-----

Sometime during the afternoon, the two of you decide to get out of bed. You're very aware that a rosy color adorns your face, feeling flustered from whatever transpired between you and Spencer. You had always been attracted to him, not just for his looks, but also his intelligence, but you never thought he'd reciprocate those feelings. But after last night and this morning, you can't help but wonder what's actually happening.

The two of you sit across from each other at the dining table, drinking coffee and eating mixed berries. You catch him stealing glances at you, and he catches you doing the same. You're too afraid to bring it up, scared that whatever is happening will be dismantled. So instead you're perfectly content just enjoying the moment.

After breakfast, you move into the living room where he picks up his book from last night and you pick one of them off his shelf. The synopsis sounds interesting, and so you curl up on his couch with it. Unlike last night, you no longer feel like you're intruding on his space, it almost feels natural to just coexist with one another on this Saturday morning.

He finishes the book in record time, and you had only reached page twenty of yours. You watch as he files the book away on his shelf, and instead of reaching for another, he trains his gaze on you. Your fingers close the front cover of the book, waiting for him to say something.

"You said you didn't see her last night, right?" He asks, breaking the silence. You nod your head,

"I didn't see her last night." You confirm and he smiles, joining you on the couch. He's sitting so close that your knees brush against each other and it sends a warm feeling up your spine.

"It's one of the harder parts of the job, I think. Nobody tells you about this side of it when you join. And nobody really talks about it either, everyone would just prefer to suffer in silence so as not to be perceived as weak. But without finding an outlet, it'll eat you alive." He speaks, resting his hand atop your knee. Your eyes stay glued to his hand as you add onto his statement.

"I considered leaving the team because I felt like I was going insane. I thought that if I couldn't save that girl, then what good am I to anyone else?" You reach out for his hand and he looks over to you, hazel eyes shining with an unfamiliar light in them.

"It's hard, but you can't focus on those you lose. You have to remind yourself of how many you save. To get yourself out of that darkness of guilt, you just have to remember the ones that are alive and well because of you. You've been on the team for two years now and you've already saved countless people, both directly and indirectly. Don't let the job strip you of your humanity." He tells you, looking deep into your eyes. You swallow, digesting his words and your eyes are unable to look away from him.

"It's so hard though. She was just a child." You say with exasperation. He squeezes his hand on your knee in reassurance.

"She was, but so many children get to live because you stopped him." His voice is sincere and your eyes water at his words. Your mind conjures images of children with families, alive and healthy.

Spencer raises a hand to the side of your face, and you lean into his touch. His thumb comes up and brushes a lone tear from the corner of your eye before gently stroking your cheek. You reach out and pull him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he circles his arms around your waist. He hold you tight, and you never want to let go. Spencer is warm, comforting, and you know that from this moment forward, you won't be able to survive without him.

Pulling away from the embrace, you rest your forehead against his, the two of you meeting each other's eyes with parted lips. Your hands find their way to the sides of his face, and you bring your lips to his. His hands hold your waist, keeping you in place as you move against each other in perfect harmony.

One of your hands finds its way to his curly hair and you rake your fingers through it, eliciting a soft moan from him. Heat ignites within you and you push your body closer to him, unable to get enough. His skin is soft under your touch and you try to memorize the way it feels, just in case this never happens again.

His hands move to map out the curve of your waist and your breathing gets heavier with desire. You move one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. He breaks the kiss first and holds you upright on his lap, looking over your body that's still concealed by his clothes. Deep in your soul, you know that this is more than just a random act of lust.

You lean in to kiss him again and you help his hands remove the sweatshirt from your body. The air is chilly against your skin and you shiver. Spencer kisses your lips and trails down to your neck, and you're unable to contain your breathy moan. Your body aches with desire to have him all over you.

His hands map out every inch of your body, taking the time to memorize the way you feel underneath him and how you respond to his tender touch. The two of you take your time to make each other feel good, to make each other feel loved and understood. There's no rush to your movements, and you're perfectly content taking as long as you want to touch him, to feel his warm skin on yours as you move in tandem, the two of you becoming one.

You treat each other as if you're both made of precious glass, appreciating the fragility of the moment. The two of you soak in every moan, every breath, every kiss from the other, and you've never felt more alive. With each movement you find a new way to appreciate his beauty. His beauty is in the tenderness of his touch, the colors of his eyes, the pinkness of his lips. Every inch of him is beautiful, and you know that nothing else on this Earth can ever begin to compare.

Spencer rests his forehead against yours, the two of you out of breath and sensitive. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he moves beside you, cradling you in his arms and placing delicate kisses to your warm skin. The two of you hold on to each other as if the other would cease to exist if you let go.

Without having to utter a single word, you know that the two of you will never have to face this life alone again.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #hozier #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #Spotify #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction

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rabbittf2x · 11 months

Note

i love your writing, you are doing very good job!!!! <3 can i request a medic and/or sniper and his afab significant other with breeding kink? but like without pregnancy stuff, without even minimal hint about it (only the breeding if it makes sense) if no that's okay, keep up with good work!

Ahh thank u that means a lot!!! So grateful🥺💞

Warning: NSFW

Medic and Sniper Breeding Kink Headcanons🫣

Medic💖

Your breeding kink was such a new thing to Medic. He quickly grew very fond of it. He thought it was so fun! And sexy!

“Yeah,” you huffed. Medic thrusted you up by your neck onto his operating table. “Fill me up.” You moaned before your lips collided into a rough kiss

Medic was his usual giggly self. You got him way too excited. He obeyed your every word, pressing in between your legs and pushing you down onto the table. Your make out session was hot and angry, teeth clacking together with hurt lips

Medic only removed his coat, but your pants were fully gone. He could not wait any longer. He tugged his own pants down crudely and quickly filled you up like requested

Moans spilled like a waterfall from your sore lips. The way you smiled breathlessly as your eyes rolled back… it was the prettiest sight the doctor had ever seen

“Yes, more.” You squealed

Medic nodded his head with a raspy chuckle, pushing himself into you harder. “Yes, dear! I’ll give you everything you want.” He breathed

His harsh pace made you see stars. You strangled out endless moans as you gripped onto the front of his vest, gazing up at his handsome face

“Mmm, then fucking breed me.”

You knew just what to say to make Medic go wild. His thrusts soon grew animalistic, slamming you harder and harder against his table. You screamed his name, screamed for him to come inside

Like always, Medic did just as you asked

Sniper💖

Sniper found you wanting to be bred by him so bloody sexy. He got so hot and bothered thinking about it. He practically ran back to his van after work, itching to get a taste of you

Sniper slammed his lips onto yours, sliding his hands down your sides and resting them on your hips. You threw your arms around his neck, stubble scraping harshly against your cheeks. You moaned into the kiss as he backed you up and shoved you onto his bed. You moaned again, grinding against him

“Mmm, you want me to say it?” You purred

Sniper groaned, attacking your neck in kisses. “You better.” He growled against you

You replied with a teasing mewl, bucking up into him. “Breed me, Sniper.” You gasped into his ear

Sniper tore every bit of clothing from your body. You lifted a hand to unbutton his shirt, but he hiked it up over his head instead. Before you could process the sound of his pants and belt hitting the floor, he slid himself into you

Your cute moans and gasps gave Sniper life. He was so pent up and stressed from work, his thrusts were messy and rough. He closed his eyes, focusing on how good you felt around him

“God, I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Sniper grunted

You groaned as your own eyes rolled back in pleasure, grinding into the cock that filled you. “Me too, baby. All I’ve wanted is for you to give it to me so hard.” You cooed

Sniper opened his eyes and peered down at you under him. He knew that tone. You were teasing him. With a smirk, he gently wrapped a hand around your neck

“Mmm, fill me.” You gasped

After a long day, it didn’t take much time for Sniper to do exactly that

#team fortress #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #medic x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 medic x reader #medic #sniper x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 sniper #sniper #mick mundy #tf2 smut #rab.tf2

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fanfiction4sooya · 5 months

Note

God I just read the wolf hybrt yujin and twas fucking hot wtf, btw wondering if u can make wony version of it? Add little flavor and some spice on it? 🧂🌶️ Thanks 🧏

Hi sweetie!!! Sorry for the long wait, I was thinking of this and realized that wony would never be a wolf hybrid... They are too aggressive and on the nose with it. She'd definitely be a panther hybrid mistaken for a kitty, though...

(about the flavor and spice... I don't know what you meant by that, luv 🤠 but here we go)

Like imagine her being so small and cute when you two were kids, always so playful and fun but overall very jealous in a subtle way. You always thought it was because as a cat they are more individualistic and in a way it was just... x10.

Growing up she got more reserved to others but always very warm to you and your parents. Much taller than cat hybrids and her fangs and claws were bigger and stronger too, so imagine something else...

She got so stressed with the sudden change in routine with you two going to college and stuff that it literally trigged her first rut a day before the two of you were separating. And by separating I mean sleeping in different dorms only.

"Are you going to leave me for someone else?" She trapped you against the door of your room, lowly purring but it made you tremble, the things in the room vibrating with how powerful it felt.

"wony..." You tried to remove yourself from her grip but she was too strong. She smelled sweet and intoxicating. "of course not baby..." You felt her member grind against your stomach, big and warm.

"Prove it to me then" She hissed on your ear. "You are mine. Prove it" She let go of your hands and crossed her arms over her chest, lifting one eyebrow.

You didn't know what to do, her defying eyes scaring you, turning you on. You could see the outline of her cock through her pants and oh, you wanted it in your mouth. Your fumbled a bit with her zipper until you could open it, getting on your knees and giving it a good lick to it's tip. She rolled her eyes, unconsciously grabbing the back of your hair to pull you into her to fit her whole length inside your mouth.

You tried to push her by the thighs but all you could feel was the wetness seeping through your panties, how every time she blindly thrusted inside your mouth you felt more and more aroused. She was fucking your face so good it was maddening how you've never experienced that before, you unconsciously started to pull her into you by the hips. You came together, her seed spilling in the back of your throat as you squirted on your panties, wetting the floor, shaking so hard you blacked out.

When you realized she was already easing her whole cock in your tight cunt, laying you on the ground. She had ripped your clothes and you didn't even see it happening, moaning loudly when you felt the sudden stretch. She bit your collarbone, licking your lips to passionately pull your hips to hers, growling.

You started crying for more, locking your ankles behind her back, her beautiful face contorting as your cunt throbbed on her dick.

"wony please come inside, please" you pleaded and she smiled slamming even harder, making her life's mission to cum inside you over and over again.

"my pretty little cock sleeve" she purred on your ear. "I'll make sure to give you my pups" she closed her eyes, clawing at your hips. It hurt but you wouldn't complain. She was feeling like that because of you, it was only fair you'd let her take it out on you.

She locked your hands over your head with one hand, still fucking you hard. Her seed felt so good on your womb it made you cum again; as your orgasm washed over you she didn't even wait for you to open your eyes again, turning you to be in all fours as she kept the in and out pace, her cock reaching even deeper. How come did she have so much stamina? Fuck.

"wony please, enough" you cried, face scratching down on the cold floor.

"it's enough when I tell you it is" she said through gritted teeth, pulling you by the hair to bite your back and neck.

She kept that for god knows how much time, spilling inside of you a number or times as well. You were already in and out of consciousness, your cunt red and puffy and so full it was leaking from your hole.

She put you in all fours again, cumming one last time but on your back, purring loudly as she did so. Her cheeks red and her eyes focusing on watching your body spasming because of her, contorting for her.

"I bet you won't ever try to leave me now..." She hugged you close, licking you. Cleaning you with her tongue, careful not to hurt you with it's spikes.

"I won't wony, I swear..." You weakly said, falling asleep as she kept licking you and purring against your skin.

#gxg smut #ive x reader #ive wonyoung #wonyoung x fem reader #wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung smut

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gatitties · 9 months

Text

The end?

─Yandere!bonten x assassin!reader

─Summary: You're sick of all the chasing and you want to put an end to this whole game of cat and dog

─Warnings: toxic behavior, blood, obsession, stalking, suicide attempt, violence, yandere stuff

@epitios here you go!, and for everyone who was waiting for a third part too😌

Part One / Part Two

You collapsed on the floor of your apartment, your breathing quickening and gasping, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears so loud you thought your eardrum was going to explode at that very moment. You covered your mouth as you moved slowly to the closet, the front door opening.

"Dammit, you said this was the exact location, you useless Sanzu."

"Shut up, at least I've gotten enough clues to find something solid."

Rindou rolled his eyes inspecting your apartment, you swallowed dryly, trying to calm your panic attack, you slowly pushed a lever inside the small space, a small door opened next to you, you crouched down to enter through the narrow secret passage, closing behind you just as the closet doors opened.

"Nothing around here…"

"Look at this, at least we know someone has fled from here."

Rin smiled when he saw the almost cold food in the kitchen, a maniacal smile on the drug addict's face when he saw that he had hit the nail on the head, he supposed that you had escaped from them in time, but how much longer would you hold out? They were already too close. They both warned the others to search the surroundings but they couldn't find you, Mikey was starting to get impatient with this search.

You narrowly missed their radar since the guy with the stupid braid, as you knew Mochizuki, almost caught you sneaking through the alleys of the city. It was stressful, you were on the brink of collapse right now, you had spent five months playing hide-and-seek with this stupid mafia, you had practically given up the dirty jobs underground just to survive the Bonten executives. They pushed you over the edge because you never seemed to have more than a couple of days to have to find a new place or personality to adopt to throw them off, you had frequent nightmares, anxiety attacks, your life was turned upside down right now and you wanted to end all this shit.

You were young, definitely many years of life ahead, but you already felt rotten inside, you had experienced many things, pleasant and unpleasant, all this 'game' with Bonten only made what little sanity you had kept go overboard, your work wasn't a pleasant thing to do and now they've got your mind blown.

"Well, this will be the final point, I don't care about anything anymore, they won't need to look for me anymore, damn stalker psychopaths."

You looked at your figure in the mirror one last time with dead eyes, your favorite clothes on, all you had on you was a gun with a bullet in it, you left a note for the guy you rented the apartment from earlier that day, apologizing for give him so much trouble, you sent your parents one last message even though they didn't deserve a look from you, you felt that the fairest thing was for them to know that at least you wouldn't see them again even if they wanted to.

A shaky sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the imposing building, it's not like it was the first time you've infiltrated, the truth is that if you could go back in time you would choose not to have come that day and threaten those men to leave you alone, you only made things worse, but today you would put an end to it.

As you infiltrated like last time, everyone was gathered, confused by the message they had found while tracking you down, Kokonoi left the crumpled note on the round table after reading it.

"It doesn't make sense, run away and now ask to see each other? isn't that weird?"

Takeomi nodded, no one would be stupid enough to want to meet their potential kidnappers and stalkers on their own turf, but anyway, they were all prepared and armed depending on what happened.

"And if it is only a decoy?"

Ran straightened up in his seat, fiddling with his braids, Kakucho got up to look through the vents, where you came in the other time.

"Whatever it is we can only wait, it's not like she can go very far, we have contacts everywhere."

Mikey remained silent the entire time, the others talked creating theories of your next move, he just stared blankly, fleeting memories of you in his mind, you were just a whim, but he wanted you to bow down to him, no one had ever had the courage to threaten him so openly and escape for so long, you would be like a trophy to him, what happened next, he didn't care much.

His eyes moved slightly towards the restored window that you broke, remembering how your body rushed into the void falling into the darkness of the night, he narrowed his eyes when he thought he saw something strange move near the window, like a reflection of someone who didn't was in the room.

"The window…"

His murmur almost goes unnoticed if it weren't for the fact that everyone fell silent at the right moment, they almost broke their necks to look at the window, at that very moment they all covered themselves because the glass exploded, falling all over the place, again, you positioned yourself on top of the table with a dominant stance, even though your mind was thinking that in this situation you were anything but the one dominating the stupid game you've been playing for months.

"Catch her!"

"Don't touch me!"

You kicked Kakucho, moving to avoid Mochizuki's arms, holding everyone at bay until Mikey rose from his seat, ordering everyone to stay put, your chest heaving from the short but intense fight, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of all those men.

"I think you came here to make a deal, right? We hear you."

The boss smiled when he saw that you lowered your guard, he knew that whatever you said he was not going to accept, right now, on his 'land', you had no say, you were under their control at this moment, he thought that you had abandoned, that you you were going to surrender before them like everyone else, they had succeeded, they had hunted you.

"Yes… I came to say some last words to the people who have finished ruining my life, it's something very important! so listen carefully, I won't repeat it again…" you waited a few seconds to give tension, everyone held their breath waiting for your words, almost anticipating a victory because they caught you in their clutches and that you would have given yourself up "Fuck you! If anyone is going to ruin my life it will be me! I hope we don't meet in hell, whores!"

You quickly moved your hand to reach for your pistol, clamped it to your jaw and fired, blood splattering on the faces of Mikey, Kokonoi and Sanzu, your body falling into the arms of the Haitani brothers, who carefully grabbed you.

"Fuck… that was close."

Rindou muttered seeing how you had only fainted, his brother had managed to reach you before you tried to take your life in front of everyone, he moved your body enough so that the bullet that threatened to dethrone part of your face and skull, only grazed your right cheek and ear, you would surely lose some hearing and you would have a new scar much more visible from now on.

They all looked at each other in silence, Takeomi had taken it upon himself to call a doctor to treat your injuries, they had already done it, there was no way for you to get out of their control easily, you had no way out, you were brave enough to face them a second time and attempting suicide in front of them, Sanzu was delighted by your performance, he couldn't wait to have you with him and all the things he could do, the others having a similar feeling, unlike you, waking up and finding yourself in that situation was not what did you imagine, being trapped with a group of psychopaths, you needed to get out of there no matter what, maybe your attempt to end everything was unsuccessful, but you can always have second chances, you don't care about the cost, you wouldn't give them the pleasure of seeing you bow down to them.

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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

Text

slow dancing in a burning room - prologue

about: it was so easy to fall in all-consuming love with Bradley Bradshaw... but it was another thing to stay in it.

word count: >1k (we’re just easing it in, friends)

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst (I cannot stress this enough, this isn’t the usually fluffy goodness of this universe), smut, fluff.

masterlist.

six weeks earlier.

“Well, I guess I’m gonna take off,” Bradley raised himself to his feet and flexed to stretch his aching back. It had been such a long night, he couldn’t believe it ended like this. You didn’t stand… you didn’t have the strength in your legs and were trapped by the boxes that were supposed to be moving into Bradley’s tomorrow.

Today. Goddammit.

It was nearly 3am. The removals company was due at 9am. How the fuck were you going to cancel them now? You couldn’t wait to greet sweaty, stinky removalists and tell them you weren’t going anywhere. And duly pay them for the service. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you told him again and he swore to himself if you told him again how sorry you were, he was going to detonate.

He muttered your name, his voice raspy with exhaustion. “Please stop saying that… It honestly means shit to me right now,” he went over to the bench and collected his keys and phone, pocketing them, ignoring the notifications. “Can you just put my stuff in a box, I’ll grab it when you’re at work or something?” he suggested, chewing the inside of his lip to blood, cutting it open – he reckoned he’d chewed the inside of his cheek to blisters hours ago.

“Sure,” you said quietly.

“All right,” he sighed, rubbing his tired, stinging eyes. “Just know... I never wanted to disappoint you, love.”

“I know. I didn’t want to disappoint you either,” you said softly. But you’d been pushed to a limit you couldn’t cope with. And you’d been explicit on it since the beginning. It was your dealbreaker. Moving to your feet and dancing around boxes to him, you stood close enough to clutch his shirt in your fists.

“Are you really sure this is what you want?” he asked sadly, holding your hips rough, in a desperate last-ditch effort to get you to change your mind. He couldn’t let you escape his grasp this time. He needed you to look into his eyes and tell him explicitly. Spell it out. “How can I make you change your mind? Please, I’ll give you space and anything else you need… just don’t end this,” he pleaded desperately. “You can’t just end this, this – we’re are too good.”

“I didn’t end it, Bradley,” you told him stoically.

His eyes searched yours, but he knew his heart of hearts that he didn’t either. “Can we just try and start again or something?” He was embarrassed at the straw he was clutching at to try and keep you, but he knew he’d lost. You’d checked out.

“It won’t change anything,” you said, reaching to grasp his bearded cheek, and a lone tear slipped from you again and you’d cried so much tonight. And he swore he was doing everything in his power not to break down, get on his knees and plead you didn’t ruin the best thing that ever happened to him. But he had to keep some pride. He’d lost so much in his life. His father, his mother, his only other family in Maverick. He almost lost his life. But you, his sweet girl, his love. You were his everything and now he was losing that too.

His thumb swept the tear away but couldn’t stop the flood that followed, and he held you as you wept into his shirt. He cooed soft nothings into your hair, telling you he loved you, that he wouldn’t know what to do without you until you slipped out of his arms and stood before him, your loneliness overwhelmed him. All the strength from earlier had dissipated and standing was about the only action you could see through while you told him that his job was too much of a risk for you and that simply couldn’t be together anymore. You thought you’d lost him and while you knew he was good at what he did, learning about his crash had changed everything and he had been willing to risk that.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” he sighed, letting you go. He pressed a kiss into your forehead and silently moved towards the door, aching for you. Heading towards the hallway, he didn’t mutter a goodbye as he left your apartment for good but his heart screamed for you to mutter his name, just one last grasp of hope.

When it didn’t come, he closed the door quietly after him.

You collapsed on the couch, just... done. Your eyes were like sandpaper and your skin was stinging, the tears that had freely flowed irritating your cheeks and down your throat and chest. You wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror tomorrow… you probably wouldn’t recognise whom you saw anyway.

How had something so good fallen apart so terribly?

Pulling a cushion to your chest, you couldn’t fathom answering any of the questions that swarmed your brain, the pounding was so loud that no painkillers could help you. You tossed the lone cushion across the room and pushed past taped-up boxes of your belongings to get a glass of water. Your whole body was dehydrated.

“Fuck,” you drawled, kitchen items (including glasses) packed by Bradley and you had no idea where he had put them. Sighing, you figured no time like the present to unpack your life again even as the adrenaline of the last 12 hours waned through you… sleep would not easily come any time soon and with tears in your eyes, you started to undo it all again.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

one.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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eeunoia · 27 days

Text

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

chapter five

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: a contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: hello, i hope you will enjoy this chapter and give me feedbacks. ily and thank you for reading my works. stay safe.

The man crawled slowly over the dirty street, trying to make a run for his life. He grunts as the injury and wounds to his whole body was inscrutable. He can hear multiple footsteps making sounds as they step into the puddles of rainwaters all over the place caused by the pouring rain. It made it colder and harder to breath.

He yelped in pain when someone stepped hardly over his back, pushing him further to the ground. Making him one with the dirty and wet street.

“Where the fuck do you think are you going?” his tone empty and devoid of emotions. It makes him scared and cries of plea follows right after.

He felt his head harshly pulled back by his hair as the man leaned down. To look at this brutal man’s eyes almost sent him down to hell. Despite being under the rain, blood splattered on his face painting his fair skin red.

“P-Please,” he begged.

The man showed no remorse and without a word, he slammed his head on the ground making him lose his consciousness completely.

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Jake asks Jay as they watch their friend beat the shit out of this poor man.

Jay craned his neck to look at the scene and his reaction seems like he was pretty much used to it already. He shrugs his shoulder off while holding an umbrella to keep him from being drenched from the heavy rain. “Do you want to?”

Jake sighs and just silently watch their friend kicking the man on the ground. It was obvious that he was incapable to fight back or even shield himself from all the hit. He was unconscious, probably almost near his death.

Tonight, the three of them gathered to do some 'business' and since Sunghoon just came from his trip from another country, trying to find his girl, he's slightly on the bad mood. Slightly.

Jay and Jake were already covered in blood, but Sunghoon's showering over it. They couldn't just stop him because they know he somehow relieves stress this way. The look of murder on his eyes aren't fading just yet and they both knew it will last for a bit longer tonight.

“I thought you and Ni-ki are searching for her too?” Jay whispered lighting up another cigarette.

The other man sighs, “Yes. But its odd, we managed to find some informations about her but all of it was three years ago.”

It made Jay halt from taking a huff from his cigs before he tilts his head, “You mean its like she vanished?”

Jake nods his head. Even him find it uncanny how there's no more updates or informations about her whereabouts. Like she's purposely maintaining a low profile or someone is doing it for her? It made him confused and even made Ni-ki digs more deeply like as if that wasn't what the younger one was already doing.

“What if she's dead already?” Jay blurted while watching their friend let all his frustrations out.

“Hell will break lose,” Jake took a deep sigh, trying to relax his tensed shoulder. “Can you see him? He's a ticking time bomb and only her can defuse him.”

Jay smirks, “We really need to hope she's alive somewhere.”

“There's no records saying that she is dead so I think we're still good.”

They both nods their head and once again watch how their friend kill those unfortunate people who stands on his way. He was unstoppable, unable to be tamed. Right now, they knew they had to find you faster or else he will really lose his mind.

“Still nothing?” your head snaps to your side, shoulder slumped so low that shows so much of your disappointment.

You've been on a hunt for your new job for a month already and yet none of them calls back. Pretty sure its not the degree or experiences that sets as an issue to this matter. Your previous boss surely used his power to make your life miserable.

“Yes.”

Lucie stares at you with a look of pity before she sets down her glass of water. She trudges closer to where you are to try and console you. She can see how hard working you are and even if you haven't told her the full story yet, she knew it wasn't you who caused all the troubles.

“Why don't you just try applying on my previous work place? I mean, its not as big as your salary before, but its not a bad pay.”

Your eyes looks at her, “Yeah, maybe I should do that. Thank you so much Lucie.”

She smiles and caress your back. “No problem. I’ll send you the details for the HR department so you can send your resume.”

You nod your head and watch her walk back to the room adjacent to yours. Things may had been rough with you, but you are lucky enough to have her beside you. It's still amusing for you how she’s very nice. Guess its really true that whenever someone leaves and go, somebody will arrive on your life.

It wasn’t hard to get an interview appointment for the said company. It was a lot smaller than your old work, but that's fine. This isn't the time to be picky specially if you're starting to deplete your savings.

They replied with your said schedule of interview and the things you need to prepare for the application. It made you hopeful despite knowing the possibility of not being accepted again. These are the usual routine. You send your resume, they reply with your schedule for interview, interview you and then ask you to wait for nothing. Eitherway you let yourself hope and dressed up for it.

The company was discarding lots of employees for the past week now since they had a new boss. The information raised your expectation to be accepted since they're in need of people.

Your heart thumped inside your chest as you wait patiently for your turn. The ac was on, you're sure of it, but you're sweating cold. It was not a foreign feeling. Just like whenever a teacher asks you to recite something in front of everybody in your class or taking one of your biggest exams. It made your palms sweaty and your feet tapping lightly to the floor. It was a dreadful feeling.

On the other hand, Jake's eyes lazily watch the view from inside his vehicle. He felt his phone ringing so he fished it from his coat and answered.

“Dude, where are you?”

He sighs, “I’m going to work. What do you want, Jay?”

His friend's whine can be heard from the other line that tugs the corner of his lips upwards. “It's a saturday? Come on.”

“I can’t. I’m in the middle of rebuilding this new company I bought.”

“The one near your mall? Why did you even bought that when it doesn't even match your own companies?”

“It does have income and regenerating well for years now. I can check on what I can do to improve it and if not, I can just demolish and use the land to extend my mall.”

Jay lets out a sigh, he just couldn't believe how Jake is a monster in this field of work. He is pretty smart, he'll give him that, but when it comes to business he's on a different level. Mainly why most of their friends comes to him for advice.

“Fine, call me later after you finish playing with your toys.”

Jake chuckles, “All right.”

He ended the call just in time of their arrival at the said company. His men opens the door for him and the handsome bachelor steps outside proudly. He walks inside and workers started to greet him, paying full respect for him. His serious demeanor didn't falter and just head straight for the lift, going to his office.

As he arrives, line of people caught his attention. He was about to ask what's it all about when he remembered how he command for them to hire new employees after he dismissed most of them. He wanted this company working as to the way he wanted it to be. So those who are not in line with his vision, he gets rid of them.

“Mr. Sim.” his secretary for this company greets him with a flushing cheeks. He kept his placid expression and wait for what she's about to say.

“We already started to interview applicants for the job vacancies.” she said trying hard to check any positive reaction from him.

Jake's eyes roams around carefully as she continues to fill him through the updates from the things he asked them to do. Slowly, her voice became muffled as his eyes get caught at something that made him utterly surprised.

He pursed his lips, brows furrowing hardly at the sight of a girl a few feet away from where he's standing. Her nervous face was obvious as she continuous to fidget with her fingers. Jake doesn't know what to think. He was so close to asking his men if he's starting to see things, but then he snapped himself back to his senses.

“Who is she?” her secretary snaps her head in a hurry to follow his line of sight.

She hesitates and look back from you and Jake, just to check if she's getting it right.

“She's probably one of the applicants for the job.” her eyes dropping over the folder she was holding.

Jake didn't talk and kept his stance. He resets his mind to come up with his new plan and for his next move. He was always careful and never reckless.

“Ohh...” his assistant talks with a tone sounding a little bit astound. He looks at her as she checks her file.

“Why?”

“She's being blacklisted.”

Jake's forehead furrowed at the information he heard. This thing was already common in the world of business. People that have power uses this method to make sure someone they don't really like cannot be accepted in any company they are associated on.

“Blacklisted? By who?”

“Mr. Kang.” she answered quickly.

There's a lot of Kang in the industry of business, but since he knew whose the main investors of this company he already have an idea which Kang she's referring to. It slowly lights up curiosity over him on what did you possibly do to make him so upset to the point he was making your life this miserable.

Was he your ex boyfriend? Jake couldn't help but to scoff inside his mind at the thought of what Sunghoon will do to him once he found out. He may lose his mind and make Mr. Kang regret he even walked this earth.

Jake sighs, trying to hold his excitement.

“I want her in my office in five minutes. I will interview her myself.” he announced that surprised her assistant.

He starts heading towards his office and she follows him, “But Mr. Kang's instruction is to not accept her even in interviews.”

Jake didn't say anything and just lightly cranes his head to stare at her. Chills run through her spine at the strictness that lingers through his eyes. She instantly regrets insisting about what Mr. Kang instructed.

“R-Right away, sir.” she bows her head in a submissive manner before politely excusing herself to do as he say.

He trudges towards his office while fishing his phone from his coat. His men follows silently, waiting for anything he will order them to do.

“Riki.” Jake sighs, despite the calm demeanor he couldn't help but to flash a small smile over his lips.

“What hyung?” the younger one sounds in a rush.

“I found her.”

“Who?” his response made him roll his eyes in disbelief. Is he that distracted that he forgot their main agenda?

“Sunghoon's obsession.”

The other line went silent. Jake even furrowed in confusion and checked if Ni-ki turned off the call, but no. It's still going. He put his phone back to his ears.

“Hey,”

“No way, hyung? Are you for real?” now he sounded so interested. He smirks, remembering how he reacted moments ago after seeing you.

Who would not react that way? Sunghoon's been searching for you for years already and to see you now is just amusing. So he really did saw you and not losing his mind. Jake felt relieved, but also a little worried of how things will work out after this.

“Yes. I’ll send you her details later so you can go dig for her informations again.”

“All right. I’ll be waiting.”

They bid good-byes and Jake started preparing himself for your arrival. He's sure that his assistant will escort you inside any minute now.

Jake's was an inch close to call Sunghoon and deliver him the good news, but he's smarter than that. He knew better than to spoil the moment and mess things up. Of course he wants his friend to see you and finally put an end to his miserable search operations. He needs to think things through and come up with the best plans in order to help his friend.

“Miss Aelia?” your head lifts up after hearing your name. The lady who asked you to wait in line from a while ago was in front of you. She's holding this folder and she have this warry expression on her face.

Your eyes glanced around to check what's up and its still not yet your turn for the interview. Chest started beating fast and you worry that things are starting to be messed up once again. Shoulders already falling, you looked up at her with a pitiful eyes.

“Y-Yes?” you are so ready to pack up and leave when she flashes you a small smile.

“Kindly follow me.”

A bit bewildered that she didn't sent you home, you managed to stand up on your feet and follow behind her. People sitting beside you were also confused but has nothing much that they can do.

She guides you towards this hallway leading to a more secluded part of the floor. And your heart sank when you read that its the president's office.

Your hand unconsciously reached over your skirt, flattening it a bit. Next is your hair that you fixed and just in time, she asked you to wait for a bit.

She enters the room and not a minute long, she peaked through the door then asked you to come inside. You nodded and gulped, feeling your throat getting dry. To say that you are nervous was an understatement. Your breathing are fast and heavy, like your heart will jump out from your chest. Your palms both so sweaty and your throat running dry despite the continuous attempt of washing it off with your saliva.

The officed looked a little messy, like things are being moved from here and there. Maybe because they have a new president, the office are being renovated. But any of that should be the least of your concern because at the center of that said room, was Jake Sim.

The moment you laid eyes on him, you are slightly shook. He was handsome, very handsome to be exact. He has this mullet length black hair that seemed so soft. Plump lips and big doe eyes that reminds you of puppy eyes. Funny, because for someone who have delicate features, he sure is intimidating.

You feel very nervous as you took more steps closer to his visitor's chair that was placed in front of his desk.

“Good day, S-Sir.” you stuttered a little as he kept his eyes fixed at your direction.

You can't really tell what's in his mind at the moment. His stares remained and you couldn’t help but to feel odd about it. He didn't say anything even after his secretary has left the room. It's already been a minute.

Something about his stares makes you feel more nervous and somehow anxious. The urge to stand up and leave slowly intoxicated your mind, but you know this isn't the right time to let your trauma from your previous boss take over you.

“S-Sir?” you tried catching his attention.

That visibly snapped Jake back to his senses. He cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed for staring too much. He cursed inside his mind, knocking his senses back to his system. He needs to collect himself and not mess this up. Surely it was fascinating seeing you here inside his office, but frightening you would be the last thing he wanted.

“So,” he draws in a sigh before grabbing a piece of paper to write on. “Miss Aelia, huh?”

Your head bops lightly and a short “Yes, Sir.” follows.

Jake scanned the folder he was holding. All the basic informations that Ni-ki had given him are mostly here. He clicked his tongue and tilts his head over to the side.

“Where are you currently staying?”

His question made you purse your lips tightly, contemplating whether to tell him or not. Various things clouded your mind, some of them even appropriate. You couldn’t help it, what happened to you in the past caused all of these.

“W-Why...”

Seems like the man in front of you noticed your expression so he was quick to pull off a small smile. He still looked intimidating, but it somehow ease your worry.

“If you’re living far from the premises we are to offer you a place to your convenience. Also a car for you to use to travel back and fort all expense will taken care of the company.” he offered.

You were caught off-guard by what he said. Is this how it usually is? Company aren’t this generous when it comes to new employees so you’re a little confused, but at the same time tempted. A place to stay sounds great and a vehicle? Sure sounds very convenient too.

“I live a bit far from here, Sir.” you answered that made him nod his head slowly, eyes trailing back towards the folder he was holding.

“Are you single or already married?” his eyes are fixed at your resume. It took you a while to answer that made him glance back up to you.

“Your benefits will be based on your civil status.” you felt embarrassed for thinking differently of his question.

“O-Oh! I’m single, Sir.”

Jake smiles and nods his head before resuming to reading your informations.

Its not that it even matter whether you’re single or not. In the end, Sunghoon will still do everything in his will to get you. But it’s good to know you are single, at least a soul was saved from his friend’s wrath.

“T-That’s actually great, Sir.” you managed to utter. His eyes lits up and lips lifts up in eagerness.

“So you’re accepting the job?” he sounds hopeful making you furrow your brows, addled with all of the things that’s happening.

“Y-Yes, but aren’t you going to interview me?” your tone sounded too soft for Jake. He knew Sunghoon will go crazy for it and he couldn’t wait for you two to meet. But there’s still a lot of things to take care of.

He lifts his head up to glance at you, tearing his gaze off from your resume that contains all the details he wanted from you. He shows a confident smile, making blushed a bit, getting caught off-guard by his visuals.

“I just did.” he shrugs his shoulders off in a relax manner.

Despite being a little confused as to how things just ended so well, you couldn’t help but to feel giddy to actually get the job.

“S-So I’m hired?”

Jake nods, “Yes. You can start on monday. Sounds good?”

Your lips stretched into a wide smile as you accept Jake’s hands. “Yes, Sir! Thank you so much! I will do my best and I will not disappoint you.”

He smirks and nods then watch how his secretary escorts you outside his office. It’s been two minutes since you left, but he was still staring straight at the door right in front of him. He couldn’t believe it.

He stood up and fishes his phone from his pocket, a big playful smirk plays over his lips while waiting for someone to pick up his call.

'“What?” Sunghoon hissed at him.

Jake scoffs, clearly not surprised to his friend’s arrogance.

“10 Million.” he started.

“The fuck you saying?”

“I’m selling you this new company I acquired and currently revisioning.”

This time, it was his friend’s turn to scoff at him.

“Ten Million? What? Is there some gold hidden in that company or something?” Sunghoon asks, very sarcastic.

Jake’s grin grew wider, wanting so bad to spill the great news to his friend.

“You can say that.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond right away and just thought of what his friend was offering. He may not be the best one when it comes to business, but he sure not a dumb person. Jake rarely sells him property unless it was worth it or he can benefit from it in the near future. He trust his friend.

He sighs, “I’ll send you the check tomorrow.” and ended the call right away.

Jake laughs and put back his phone inside his pocket. “God damn, this is fun.”

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