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jeanboyjean · 6 months

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and i - ft. jean kirstein

summary: jean (successfully) tries to make you feel better after a recent breakup

content: friends to lovers, fluff, good vibes, jean brainrot to the max, modern au, college au

a/n: for @honeybleed 90s/00s rnb event!! <3 jean fluff hehehe bc i can't get him out of my brain and he is THE comfort character. inspired by and i - ciara. i love this song big time ♡ laughed so hard watching the music video when she brought out the horse lmaooo 🤔 for my fellow jean girlies!!!

1.2k words

"ugh, i hate him," you grumble, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.

jean glances at you, concern etched on his face. "what now?" he asks, taking a seat beside you.

crossing your arms, you slump into the cushions. "he just posted a picture of him with that girl. what a fucking asshole."

jean clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. "why are you still on his profile? you need to forget about him."

with a frustrated sigh, you shut off your phone. it’s been a few weeks since you ended things with your ex, a decision long overdue. the relationship had lost what little spark had been there in the first place, dragging on for as long as the two of you would let it. the final straw had been when you had found the sexts he had sent to a girl in one of his classes. it stings and it sucks but more than anything, your pride is wounded. the sadistic part of you can’t resist the urge to keep tabs on him and wallow in resentment.

"i have forgotten about him," you say defiantly. "he's just unfortunately like the gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe."

jean lets out a low chuckle. his hands fall to his thighs as he pushes up off the couch. "okay, you know what. let's go for a drive."

curiosity flickers in your eyes as you look up at him, wondering where this is going.

"come on, let's go," he urges, reaching forward to grab your hand. you let him pull you to your feet.

"alright, fine. but you're shouting me coffee," you tell him with a roll of your eyes, a small smile winning over.

"always," he winks in return with a mischievous lift to his lips.

the music blares as you drive, jean tapping his fingers along to the beat. you hum along, watching the scenery pass by with your window down, letting the cool air blow away your tension. the recent events start to fade away and your mind wanders back to your first break up a couple years ago during your first year of university. jean had been there then too, holding you as you had cried and simmered, until you were ready to put yourself back together.

he had refused to let you mope around, forcing you to go out with him to movies and parties and bars. he had been the one to listen to your problems as you poured your heart out, making his shoulders your personal dumping ground. jean had been there for you through it all.

you deserve someone who loves all of you. the words he had said to you back then, ring clear in your mind.

there has always been an underlying tension between you two, a quiet undercurrent that flows beneath the surface of your friendship. from the moment you first saw him, standing across the room at a party in first year, his presence has captured your attention drawing you to him like a magnet. you had become fast friends, sharing everything together from your classes, to your interests, to your deepest darkest secrets.

part of you wonders if he’s ever felt the same way. sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you had found the courage to tell him your feelings, but now you’re in too deep, the confines of your friendship too strong. all this time, you’re pining after him while trying to fill the void with other people, only to be crushed over and over. dreams of making a move dance in your mind, but the fear of jeopardising your friendship holds you back. you’re happy this way, if only because it means you can have him in your life. you’ve sealed these thoughts away in your heart and thrown away the key.

jean's hand lifts from the steering wheel to turn down the music. "what are you thinking about?" he asks.

you cross your arms to hug yourself. "why is it so hard to find someone? am I just destined to be forever alone?"

he flicks your knee teasingly. "maybe you're looking in the wrong places." he turns his head briefly to meet your eyes. “plus, how can you be forever alone when you have me."

you roll your eyes and poke his shoulder before turning away. “yeah, and where should I be looking then?”

he pulls into the car park in front of your favourite coffee shop, shutting off the car and turning to you. he stills for a moment and takes a deep breath, letting it sit for a moment before releasing. a hand pulls through his hair, coming to rest on the back of his neck. "why not me?" he asks, turning to face you.

your eyes narrow at his words. "don't play around, jean."

"nah, I'm serious," he says. there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice but his gaze is unwavering. "you know I would do anything for you."

you freeze, chest tightening, feeling the air being sucked out of the car. you hear his words but they don't register, refusing to sink in. the sincerity in his words hang in the air, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. in the quiet, jean's confession lingers like a promise. you want to believe him, to let go of the fear that consumes you but you can't help but hold back.

you shake your head, uncertain of the implications. you’ve both said things like this to each other before, never ones to hold back on sentiment, but something about them today carry a weight you can’t ignore.

"but aren't we friends? i don't want to ruin what we have."

he reaches for your hand across the centre console, his fingers intertwining with yours. his thumb brushes against your skin, sending tingles up your arm. “i would never let anything ruin what we have,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours, gaze tender but firm. “i've wanted to say this for a long time."

with his free hand, he cups your cheek and leans in, brushing your hair aside. "i could have everything in the world, but I would sacrifice it all for you. stop wasting your time with these losers.”

your heart pounds, breath catching in your throat. slowly, you allow yourself to acknowledge the feelings that have lingered beneath the surface. "jean..." you whisper, the sound barely escaping your lips.

"please. let me show you."

his lips meet yours, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. the world disappears, leaving only the two of you. it feels like a dream as he pulls you in, your chest flush against his. your fingers comb through his hair, your heart thumping in your chest.

everything about him overwhelms you. his scent, the way his hair feels between your fingers. and the softness of his lips, gentle and warm against your own.

his hands slide from where they’re tangled in your own hair down to hold your arms, squeezing lightly. he pulls back, his eyes searching yours. the moment hangs in the air, the intensity heavy between you.

"are you okay with this?" he asks, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

you nod. a smile stretches across your cheeks as you look up at jean, whose expression mirrors yours.

it’s more than okay. it’s everything.

you let yourself fall into the moment, unlocking the key to your heart, letting yourself want him. hope flickers in you, anticipation for what this could mean. you finally reach for the love that has always wanted to reveal itself. and this time, it feels real.

#jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #attack on titan #jean kirschtien #jean x reader #✎ . chloe wrote smth #aot #aot x reader

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postwarlevi · 2 years

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Happy Halloween II

Content: 1.9k words of the return of dad Levi as the Ackerman family go to a Halloween party with friends.

Warning: One suggestive comment near the end. Only read through once!

Read part one (not required) here's part three

"But, where's my little princess?" Levi frowns.

"Daddy! I'm a cat!" Levis now seven year old daughter, dressed all in black with fake whiskers, jumps at him with false claws.

He feigns fear for her sake, making her laugh.

"Well, alright I guess." It's what she wants. But up until last year she was always a princess and it hurts his heart a little.

"Are you ready?!" She asks wildly, as if she's already had too much candy.

"Just waiting on your mother." He says, stepping out of her way, heading towards your bedroom.

"Love?" He calls out and you hum his name.

He half smiles at seeing you standing in front of the mirror, dressed as a witch, fixing your hat.

You catch his eye in the mirror and whirl around.

"Spooky. Gonna put a spell on me, Mrs Ackerman?" He jokes and moves towards you, arm going around your waist to hold you.

"Would it get you to put these on?" You pull out devil horns and grin at him, hoping.

You and some other friends are taking your kids to an indoor Halloween party at their school. Parents are encouraged to dress up as well, but so far Levi isn't having it.

Levi sighs and shakes his head. "Come on! Please?" You continue before he can say anything.

"We'll take such cute family photos. Just put these on, wear a red shirt, anything!" You won't push your luck with a pitchfork and tail.

"We already are a cute family." He reminds you, taking the horns and pulling out the red shirt from his drawer that you just so happened to come across last week and thought you should get him.

Yes, you have him under a spell, you and your daughter, and he never wants to wake up.

"Yay!" Your daughter claps as she sees daddy is in fact participating, ever so slightly.

You gather some baked goods you made to bring and Levi gets the bag of candy to contribute to the cauldron, and the three of you get in the car to head to the school.

"Are you excited?" You ask the seven year old.

"Yes! Do you think uncle Jean will be there?" She asks of one of her favorite adults.

"Sure, he, Connie and Sasha said they'd be there." You smile when her face lights up at this news.

The trio might not have any kids between them, but they're always helping out at the school with the kids.

"Don't eat too many sweets, kitty." Levi tries to set some boundaries since there will be candy at home from Trick or Treating tomorrow.

"Yeah, right." She rolls her eyes, as if this is an option.

You snort at her reaction and Levi raises an eyebrow.

"When did you get so sarcastic?" He wants to know. He's pretty sure it started sometime this year.

You park the car and head inside the school gym where there's lots of people already.

There's ghosts and princesses and superheros running around. Most of the parents are dressed up too. There's games and contests and music. Something for everyone.

"Ackermans!" Connie, dressed as a theater usher, is helping at the front door and takes the tray from you to put with the rest of the things.

"Hey Levi, where's your pitchfork?" Connie nudges him.

"Don't push it." He says, going to dump the candy into the already overflowing cauldron.

"Hi!" Sasha, in a pizza slice outfit, waves happily at seeing you all. She's passing out the candy and making sure there's no arguing about who gets what.

"Oh, so scary!" She says at seeing one of her favorite little human beings, running at Sasha full speed.

"Be careful!" You shout, barely heard above all the noise. But all is well as Sasha catches her and stays upright, costume and all.

Connies leaves his post for a moment to come admire the black cat outfit as well.

In no time at all three pieces of candy and two baked goods (one for you) are gone, with more treats coming.

"Where's my favorite kid?"

She squeals at the familiar voice who playfully pulls her tail and turns to see Jean, dressed as a caveman.

"Uncle Jean!" She latches on to his leg, making everyone laugh.

"How come he's the favorite?" Connie asks, but it's all in fun.

"Gonna enter in the costume contest? I'm hosting. There's one for adults too." He looks to you in your full witch outfit.

"Yeah! Let's go sign up." You take your daughters hand and with Jean head over to enter your names, knowing full well to leave Levi outta this one.

Connie and Sasha go back to their posts and Levi looks around the room.

He sees Armin and Annie helping host games like ring toss and mini golf, Mikasa helping with crafting spooky characters out of toilet paper rolls, and Eren and Historia leading a scavenger hunt, among many other things.

"Levi! Where's the ladies?" Erwin has come in with his family, making sure to stop and see Levi. "She got you in horns at least, I see." He chuckles as Levi rolls his eyes.

"No doubt a suggestion from you." Levi has no proof, but it's something Erwin would assist with.

He has a matching superhero outfit with his wife and son, who has run right over to mini golf.

The men talk and somehow get roped into helping with musical chairs hosted by Hange, who Levi hadn't even recognized in full makeup.

It seems like it takes forever to get down to one chair but finally someone wins and Levi makes a break for it.

"There you are!" Finally you spot him, you've been looking for a while now.

"Hey. Um, I was helping with games." He points to the section with the chairs.

"Awe, that's so sweet." You reward him with a kiss.

You know events like this can be out of his comfort zone. But he tries for you both.

"Where's our kitten?" Levi notices she's not with you.

"Oh, she met Miche and his son and are playing games. You should see their matching outfits, it's adorable!" You gush over the lumberjack costumes.

Levi pouts a little, because he really could've dressed up more which would have made you happy.

"Don't worry. I adore you as is." You sense it and lean in to kiss him again.

A few more games and snacks and helping out and it's time for the contests. Miche and his son win the matching costumes, and your daughter is voted cutest animal.

"Mommy I won!" She comes up holding the play gold medal to show you.

"So cool!" You jump up and down with her.

"Alright, the individual adults now!" Jean announces from the stage.

Third time is not the charm and you lose out to Erwins wife. A perfectly acceptable alternative that leaves your daughter sad.

"It's alright sweetie. Look, mamas not sad." Levi holds her as you come over.

"What's wrong?" You ask with concern.

"She, she won but…you're pretty too!" She sobs and reaches for you.

"Oh." You chuckle some. "It's alright, really. No reason to be sad!"

Erwins wife see the commotion and comes over to comment on the crying girls and your outfit.

"It should've been a tie! Your mommy is beautiful!" The woman your daughter calls auntie says, helping dry tears.

She's only seven and still has things to figure out. But Levi also wonders if she's tired because it's getting late.

"Let's go play bean bag toss!" Erwins son is there and takes your daughters hand and helps get her back into the action.

If she was tired, that is all gone now as she goes from game to game, especially with Sasha running around with more candy.

"She's a sweet girl who loves her mommy and daddy." Erwin smiles, chalking it all up to the same reasons as Levi.

It is in fact getting later and slowly people say goodbye and others help clean up.

A few games are still being hosted a few more rounds for stragglers, and left over baked goods are being passed out to take home.

"Levi, have you seen the kids?" You had an eye on them just a moment ago and with less people, should spot them easily.

Before any of you jump to conclusions Connie points. "They're in the haystack." He's still helping clean up.

You, Levi and the Smiths wander over and come to a stop, smiling. Well, everyone but Levi.

It seems like the fun was too much and even with the noise your daughter and Erwins son are sleeping soundly together in the pile of hay.

"I don't like this." Levi scowls at the boy holding his daughter, making the rest of you chuckle.

"One day in about twenty years we're going to be in-laws." Erwin smiles happily, going to get his child off the hay.

"Not happening." If looks could kill Levi would have nothing to worry about.

You pinch his side. "Stop that." You push him forward to help Erwin and they get the kids untangled.

"Thanks for a fun night!" You make sure to tell Jean and the other young adults.

As you walk to the car, you're one of the last bunch to leave that isn't still cleaning.

"What do father in-laws call each other?" Erwin continues to dig into the situation.

"Shut up."

"Levi!" You hiss, while Erwins wife tells him to cut it out.

"Daddy don't say that." Your daughter wakes slightly from sleep.

"Sorry, kitten." He says.

You all separate and the kids wave to each other from the cars.

"Did you have fun?" You ask now that she's awake.

"Yes. Sorry for what I did." She's embarrassed about her outburst over the costume contest.

"That's okay. Really. I'm happy to know you're always rooting for me. But it's okay if I don't win." You make sure she knows.

As you file into the house with all the goodies, Levi groans.

"You still going Trick or Treating?" He asks but already knows the answer.

Once you get your daughter to bed you work on getting out of your outfit.

"You still have a spell on me, Mrs Ackerman." Levi stands watching in your room as you're almost undressed.

You look at him over your shoulder with a smile.

"The prettiest witch." He gives a sly half smile.

"Why Mr Ackerman, are you finally enjoying your devils horns?" You ask with a wink and giggle.

Before you can get any further, you hear stirring and your daughter is back awake.

Levi signs and you shrug. Well, that's what it's like with kids.

He goes to see what's up while you put your sleepwear on.

"Daddy. I couldn't sleep." She comes over to him.

"Well, princess, it's late. What's going on? Did we not tuck you in right?" He asks.

She shakes her head and pulls him so he's on her level. "No, I had to tell you. No matter what, I'm always your princess."

She hugs him tightly and Levis heart is full as he hugs her back. You watch from the doorway, feeling so very joyful.

They motion for you and you come join the hug pile. "Thank you." Levi finally says, kissing both of you.

You both have given him everything he's ever wanted. And he'll happily wear whatever costume you pick out for him next year.

#attack on titan #aot #levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi fluff #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #dad levi #dad!levi #captain levi ackerman #levi x reader fluff #captain levi #also featuring #erwin smith #104th cadets #happy halloween

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inafieldofdaisies · 1 year

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Last Line (accept it would never be just one line) Tag | Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @trench-rot <3

I could be silly and just post one sentence, make you all wonder what even is going on or... go with the thing below. Listen, what started as a small introduction for Mercedes turned into a whole chapter just for these two and I'm like: it is what it is, at least I'm not allowing everyone full reign.

"Know how to start a fire?", [Jacob] chirped from the living room, still lounging back on the couch. "No." Yes. "Want me to teach you?", his cordial tone wasn't something she was used to. "Why are you acting all nice to me out of a sudden?" "What would you rather I do then, Mercedes? Figured the night would pass by easier that way.", she could feel his stare on her as she kept her back to him, opening and closing cupboards until she found a glass to pour herself some water into. "So, do you want me to teach you?" She moved onto the fridge next, finding it almost empty as expected, "Nothing edible in the fridge, Jacob. If you don't want ketchup for dinner, that is." "Check the pantry, most folks around here are preppers one way or another.", he explained, coming from behind her and opening the door to the small pantry himself before she even had a chance to, "Here." He pulled out a couple of cans, leaving them on the counter. "And if they had nothing stashed away, what was the plan then?" He raised an eyebrow, "Catch us some dinner." "I'm a vegetarian." It was another lie, but she had no desire to watch him play caveman, not if she was to keep her appetite after the things she had witnessed at St. Francis. "Are you now?" "You have a problem with that, too?" Jacob shrugged, "It's nature. We all have a spot on the food chain." "Whatever you say." "You don't agree?" Mercedes waved a hand in his direction, "I just have no energy for all this." When he went to open one of the cans, she moved over to where he was standing and grabbed it before saying, "Are you not even going to wash up first?" He looked down as if realizing for the first time the actual state of his hands. "Sorry.", he muttered and moved to the sink. The quiet apology took her by surprise, but she didn't let that show when she asked, "You hadn't even realized your hands were bloody?" "When you do this everyday, it becomes a habit, a part of you.", he uttered out over the running water, "We all have a role to play." "What's that supposed to mean, Jacob?", she certainly didn't like his clipped tone. He turned, drying his hands with another dark stare pointed her way, "I cull the herd. You play dress-up as my sister's double." "I'm doing no such thing." "No?", he smirked, "You have no idea about my brother's plan for you, do you?" She had her suspicions, but the fact he was close to voicing his and had such a reaction piqued her interest. "What are you talking about?", she blinked in confusion, letting worry slip into the question. He shook his head, deciding against saying anything else as he opened the can and dumped the contents into a pan she had pulled out, "Doesn't matter. We all have our roles, sweetheart, it just takes time to realize what they are. You too would, eventually."

Tagging @poisonedtruth @direwombat @madparadoxum @nightbloodbix @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @detectivelokis @aceghosts @euryalex @adelaidedrubman @thesingularityseries @cassietrn @vampireninjabunnies-blog @theelderhazelnut @clonesupport @voidika @schoute @v0idbuggy and anyone else that would like to share a little something. <3

#Mercedes really be lying anytime he asks something; be with words or through feigning a reaction :D #can y'all tell how unhappy he is with the idea she might be the next Faith if God forbid Rachel fails #the snippet is still a rough draft because brain is mush right now #tagged <3 #last line tag #last line wip #oc: mercedes “mercy” sibley #wip snippet #wip stuff #ocs #wip: in hope of tomorrow #fc5 ocs #ship dynamics #character dialogue #original characters #jacob seed x oc #oc character #far cry 5 oc

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howdyhowby · 2 years

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Let Me Take Care Of You (1/?)

A note from the author: Hey, y'all! This is my first attempt at a fanfic and first post on this Tumblr. Please be patient with me as I work on being a better writer. This WILL be a series so stay tuned, I don't know how long it'll go on for, but I won't abandon it. Thank you for reading, have a great day :) WARNING: Nightmares, angst, hurt/comfort, slight sexual themes (just attraction not smut), blood, injuries. This will turn into smut in later chapters, I'm warning you ahead of time. If there's anything else tell me so I can add it.

Your eyes blinked open, your body already in a sitting position as you panted. Another nightmare, another night without him. Your nightmares became regular a couple of years ago. You had been hired by the Ghostbusters, to help out Janine Melnitz. You didn't have an exact job title, just helping whenever you can. When Janine had mostly everything under control, the Ghostbusters decided to let you tag along. It started off at first as staying inside the Ecto-1 while they trapped their ghost, you took notes, and drove them back to the firehouse when they were too tired to do it themselves. Then they started letting you out of the Ecto-1. You wanted to trap ghosts and fight alongside your friends, but that wasn't the main reason you wanted to help them out. It wasn't because you dreamed of fighting ghosts as a kid, or you had to get revenge for a family member. It wasn't anything exciting, or even reasonable. It was because you had an enormous crush on Egon Spengler. His shy demeanor, glasses, and tall frame. The way he was content in just his science, brushing off Janine and other women's touch so he could get back to whatever experiment he had. It is adorable, he is adorable. While he brushed off other women, your touch seemed to always be welcome. You were definitely touchy when it came to the man you loved, and while you tried to hold back so as to not freak him out or make him uncomfortable, you couldn't stay away entirely. A touch here, a hand on his shoulder there, the drag of your fingers across his hand as you took something he was giving you. You didn't know how to be more obvious without shouting it in his face, "I'm in love with you!" The feelings only grew with how often you went with them, how many hours you spent cleaning up his wounds, and him returning the favor. And yet, no matter how much time passed, he continued to remain indifferent. And it hurt. The first few weeks of your nightmares you had hidden them, embarrassed that you couldn't be as strong as the boys. They never complained about night terrors, never seeking comfort from the wars raging in their heads. It seemed like you were alone. That is, until week 3. You had eyebags, your hair all over the place, as you stumbled into the kitchen. Your pajama pants dragged as you took down a glass from the cabinet. You took a quick swig, sighing. "Y/N?" You jumped, dropping the cup. You stared in horror at the broken shards, breathing heavily as you looked up at the new presence. 'Egon... great.' "Oh!" He took a step back, trying to avoid the glass. "Don't... don't move." He left for a couple minutes, before coming back with a broom. He began sweeping, being careful around my feet, before dumping the dustpan's contents into the trash. "Thanks.." you mumbled awkwardly, shuffling a little. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "What are you doing up?" "Um.." You took a step back, trying to think of a lie. 'Ow, what the hell was that?'

You looked down, frowning as a brownish-red liquid started spreading across the tiled floor. There was a piece of glass he had missed, behind you. Now in you. He followed your gaze, eyes widening. Without a word, he picked you up bridal style and began walking out of the kitchen. "Egon!" You yelped, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck and shoulders. You felt your cheeks warming as he continued toward the staircase that led to his lab. "I-It needs to be cleaned, and.. and you shouldn't walk on it. Sorry if I'm overstepping." He stuttered, not remaining eye contact with you. "It's okay... you know you don't have to me so..." I didn't know how to finish that sentence, as he carefully placed me on the lab table. "So?" He looked at me expectantly, finally looking into your eyes. "So... restrained?" I said, more of a question than an answer. "We're friends, Egon. You're not a stranger. I don't mind you sweeping me off my feet." I let out a small laugh. He gave a half-smile, worry still evident on his face.

"I know, I just don't want to hurt you." He mumbled, nearly incoherent as I strained to hear it. He brought out the first-aid kit, getting to work on your foot. "This is gonna sting a little." He warned before pouring saline on your wound. You inhaled, blinking your eyes shut. It only took a couple minutes to clean and dress your foot, Egon insisting you stay seated. "Egon, I can walk, it was only a little piece of glass." "That wasn't little, Y/N." "Are you kidding me? It was itty bitty!" They continued to bicker for a couple minutes. You felt weak enough around him, you didn't want to look like you couldn't hand a small injury. You began to get up, not listening to his rambles on infection and pain and whatever else he was spewing out to try and convince you. Suddenly, two arms caged you in. His hands were first on the table, thinking that was enough to keep you there. You hesitated, a blush rising to your cheeks as you looked up at him. His face was not even half a foot away as he stared down into your eyes. "Stay." He whispered. Your heart rate increased, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you glanced down toward his lips. Every fantasy comes to the forefront of your mind. You shifted your hips uncomfortably, trying to adjust yourself as arousal began flushing toward your core. Egon must've mistaken it for you trying to get off the table, yet again, and moved his hands to your hips. "Let me take care of you." He whispered again, moving one hand to your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "O-Okay..." His face slowly went into a frown, confusing you. His thumb moved from your cheek to under your eye. "Your eyebags have gotten deeper, Y/N. Please, tell me what's been going on." He asks. He noticed them last week, making a comment on how you need to get some sleep. "It's nothi-" "Don't lie." "I'm not ly-" "Let me take care of you." He said again, almost sounding like begging. I hesitated, leaning forward a little as I rested my head on his shoulder. There's no point in keeping it hidden. You've already been compromised, why try to keep up the facade of courage? "I've been... having nightmares." "...about?" About losing you "About losing y'all. Ray, Peter, Winston... you..." "Oh." His grip on your hip tightened, his other hand moving toward your hair. You felt more relaxed than you have in weeks, his presence calming you down. His scent flooded your senses, slowly lulling you. And you decided you wanted more. He was already in between your legs, so you wrapped them around him, tugging him a little closer. "Y/N-" "Shh..." You leaned back up, moving your own hands to his face.

You knew if you looked down, you would see how embarrassingly close you two were, and you loved it. "I.. I've been having nightmares about you." "Me?" He asked, surprised. "About losing you. I don't want to lose you, Eegs. I don't know what I'd do without you." "Y/N.." His face went blank. You knew what this was. He always tried to remain unreadable, unfeeling. "I know you know." It's obvious you love him. He couldn't not know. You didn't say the three words, too afraid to push him farther. You leaned your forehead against his, not going any farther. You could wait for him to say the three words. "I... I can't, Y/N." 'Oh.' It stung worse than you thought it would. You know how sometimes you can hear your heartbeat? Well, right now you could hear it cracking. Shattering, even. He didn't love you. It all meant nothing to him. You meant nothing to him. Rapidly blinking, you tried not to recoil away from him, "Oh..." "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought I was clear in how I acted." You smiled, looking more like a grimace, trying to ease his panic. On the outside: you looked tired, worn out, but understanding. On the inside: you were tired, worn out, and about to double over from heartache. Far from understanding anything. 'Clear? Only letting you in his lab, only letting you touch him, only letting you get close. That was clear? What does he mean by CLEAR?'

"I understand." You would. Eventually. But as of now, you couldn't be around him much longer before you broke down in tears. You untangled your legs from his waist, failing to notice his look of disappointment. You tried to gently push him away, but it came out more of a shove as you hopped down from the table. You bit your lip, both to keep your composure and not curse out in pain. 'He was right about the foot...' You started limping toward the doorway, surprised when he stepped in front of you. "Egon... please." "No, just listen. I.." He stopped when you made eye contact with him. "I what?" You asked, a little impatiently. "...I want to help you. You aren't alone, Y/N. Please, if the nightmares continue, promise me you'll come to me." Your brain short-circuited, to say the least. "What?" He moved a little closer again, an arms-length away now. "If... when these nightmares continue, come find me. Wake me up, join me in the lab, I don't care if you interrupt what I'm doing. Just promise me you won't suffer them alone. I.. I want to be there for you." "Egon, you don't have to feel obligated to try and fix me. It's not your fault you can't love me." Some weird emotion flashed through his eyes before disappearing. You continued, "I don't need you to take care of me." "I know you don't... but I want to."

"Why!?" You finally asked, your voice rising, confusion taking over. He remained silent, stepping even closer. He pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back. "Do you not... want my help?" He muttered, hands halting his comforting strokes. You laughed a little bitter, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. He smelled earthy. Like dirt, aftershave, and the overwhelming scent of him. It stung, realization sinking in. You couldn't have him. He wasn't yours. He didn't want you. "Egon..." You looked up at him. "Of course, I want your help. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable. I don't want to force myself on you." He frowned deeper, moving his hand back to my face. I moved my hand on top of his, leaning deeper into his touch, visibly welcoming him. 'You feel like home.' I thought to myself as we stared into each other's eyes. His brown, warm, puppy dog eyes. "You're not forcing yourself on me. I want to take care of you." You nodded hesitantly. If you couldn't have him romantically, you could settle for friendship. You would have to settle for friendship. You didn't think you could last without Egon Spengler in your life. "Okay. I'll let you take care of me.". And so it began. Hours every night, waking from the terror of your dreams, to scuttle downstairs and into the lab. You would usually bring hot cocoa from the kitchen, sit down on his couch, and watch him work. Or, sometimes, he'd join you on the couch. Just holding you. That only happened when you came down in tears. Sometimes the nightmares would be too much, and you'd come stumbling in, choking back sobs. He would drop everything to hold you, bringing you to the couch, pulling a blanket over the two of you. He would never ask you questions, never make you relive it. He would just hold you on his lap, comforting you with actions instead of his words. Your favorite moments were when you were beginning to drift off again, and he'd whisper to himself, thinking you were already asleep. "I'm here... I've got you."

Present Day --two years after the flashback-- So here you were, alone in your bed, heart aching for him. Tears running down your cheeks, eyes wide from fear. You had never talked of your love for him after that night, after he shot you down. But ever since he had been comforting you, it only grew. You became dependent on him. You needed him. You never told the others about your terrors, and he didn't either. He respected you. He cared for you. Even if he couldn't love you, wouldn't love you, you felt loved. The illusion was better than the harsh reality. They were called in to investigate some paranormal activity at the old Roberts' Mansion, just a couple miles outside of the city. They discovered a link to it in Florida. Some ghost who was murdered by one of the Roberts boys' back in 1808. Of course, they took a road trip. Egon and Winston, leaving Ray and Peter here to cover the local ghosts. And now you had to wait for him, agonizingly, for 2 whole weeks, because some stupid ghost couldn't keep to itself. You had just awoken from a nightmare. Your eyes blinking open, and your body already in a seating position. He said you could call him. That he wouldn't mind. That he would pick up, any time of the night and day.

You hadn't spent a night without him since... since the night you cut your foot. At times you felt you annoyed him, but he was always quick to show you you didn't. Was it weird? Yes, it was. You didn't understand why he acted the way he did. He told you he couldn't love you, couldn't bring himself to do so, and yet he treated you like... like you mattered to him. Like you were more than just a friend. You sighed, knowing you were seeing everything through rose-colored glasses. 'Why would he love me? He deserves so much more...'. I looked over at the clock. 3:48 AM. Would he be awake? Would he be angry if you called? When the clock turned 4:12, and you still couldn't fall asleep, you decided to call him. You leaned over the bedside table, dialing the number and pulling the phone up to your face. You settled back against the backboard of the bed, curling the phone cord around your finger. The phone ringed thrice before someone picked up. "Hello?" A deep, confused, and rough voice said on the other line. It made your heart flutter, and your brain calm down. He could fix everything with a single word. That beautiful, smooth, and gentle voice of his. "Hey, Egon..." You heard shuffling on the other end. "Y/N.. it's nice to hear your voice." You can hear the small smile he must be making. You sniff quietly, looking around the room. You feel the shadows crawl, the drapes blow, the eery silence. "Egon, I-I... I'm scared." You admitted wiping the tears off your cheek.

"I wish I could be there for you." He finally muttered, sounding solemn. "Don't do that. Don't feel bad. You are here for me, Eegie. Even when you don't have to be, you're always here... thank you." You don't know it, but he smiles at the nickname. "I know. I just wish I could be there in person." "Another week?" "Just a little under. 6 days and counting..." He paused for a moment. "5 days and counting. Didn't realize the time." He finished with a small chuckle. "Sorry..." You say bashfully, starting to feel better. "...I hope I didn't wake you up." "I've been awake for hours." "I know." "You know?" "Your voice gets deeper the longer you've been awake." "It... does?" You blush covering your face with your hand. You wanted to tell him the truth, the whole truth, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. How do you tell someone ' 'Your voice gets deeper, sexier, as the hours go on. I dream of it in my sleep, I long for it while I'm awake. I long for you day in, day out.' '? You don't. Not when they don't feel the same. "...yeah." You respond awkwardly. You can hear him breathing on the other end, thinking, pondering how to respond. "Y/N, I need to tell you something." "You do?" "I... I shouldn't be doing this over the phone." "It's okay Egon, tell me." "I..." You lean forward on the bed, anxious for his response. "...I take back what I said two years ago." That was the moment you shattered completely. Take it back? His promise? He didn't want to take care of you? You were a burden to him. Anger, pain, and sorrow swirled in your veins, leaving you speechless. Not anger at him, no, never at him. Anger at yourself. You pushed him too far, were too clingy, too hopeful. "Y/N? Are you there?" His voice rang in your ears, no longer soothing. It was like pouring whiskey on a dumpster fire. Egon's POV:

I waited for a couple minutes, not sure what was happening. Why wasn't she responding? This was supposed to be a happy moment. I was confessing my love and she... wasn't glad. Was I too late? Did I wait too long to tell her how I felt? Did she move on long ago, and I've been chasing after her like an abandoned puppy? It hurt even to think about. Her, with another man. Someone else holding her, someone else getting to love her. To treat her how she deserves to be treated. To grow old with her, and father her children. I couldn't handle the silence anymore. I needed an answer. I needed to know if I could finally call her mine because I had been hers for so so long. "Y/N? Are you there?" I stuttered out, desperate for a response, any response. She waited only a few seconds this time, finally speaking. "W-Wh-" I heard the phone drop, the sound of rustling. I waited... "Y/N?" and waited... then suddenly: Screams.

word count 3,148

#egon spengler #nightmare #egon x reader #ghostbusters #smut #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #egon being clueless #both parties being terrible at expressing themselves #both parties being terrible at understanding what the other is saying #ghosts ghosts ghosts nothin but ghosts #ghosts #haunted mansions #egon time lets gooo #hes so cute #look at his glasses omgosh #no beta we die like men

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

Text

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 17 | April 18th – April 24th

Welcome to week 17 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 18»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week

Forever & Always: Stage 1 - Denial | Pt.1 » Bucky Barnes x Witch!Reader & Platonic Avengers x Reader — Y/N “Birdy” (nicknamed by her family), comes from a long line of witches and warlocks, living her days at the New Avengers Compound, alongside her friends. The Avengers are part of her family and her family is always welcome to the compound. Things for once seemed to be going well now that all was right from the attack on Thanos, everyone was alive, all was forgiven, friendships were thriving, that all ended when Birdy’s brother came calling with sad news, their mother had suddenly passed. These are the stages of grief Birdy faces, through the loss of her best friend, her protector, her mother.

His Favorite Day » Chris Evans x Reader — Chris’s favorite day of the year is your birthday.

Bucky Barnes

One-Shots:

*No Hidden Messages by @jobean12-blog » TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Sam sends you a picture of Bucky and the endgame is priceless. | Honestly I love me some dominant Bucky, and if Sam had sent me that picture I would have dropped my phone and been like yep that my babe. I was thinking something more dirty but I’ll keep that thought to myself. 😉

Sucker Punch by @buckyblues » Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader — Bucky thought he knew what was his, until he accidentally let it roam free. | Someone come dump a cold bucket of water on me please?

Someone Like You by @startrekkingaroundasgard » Bucky Barnes x Hydra Agent!Reader — Taken from their SHIELD prison cell, the reader finds themself alone with The Winter Soldier negotiating for their life. | I really enjoyed reading this, the sass of the reader and how Bucky handles them. It’s just so perfect. Nicola says there is more to come for this pair and I’m so very much looking forward to it.

(Mini) Series:

Happy & So Happy by @mrwinterr » Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader — You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for. | The smut in this is hot and by the end you are hoping the reader gets a happy ending not a tragic one.

*A Tender Heart 💜 Pt. 3 by @river-soul » Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader — You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit. [A/B/O dynamics and explicit sexual content, 18+] | I feel the love that is radiating from this story and I really love it and the little bit of smut we get in chapter 3 is perfect!

the (after) party by @buckycuddlebuddy sequel loft music » fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader — “why don’t we have this thing they call goodbye sex? one last time.” he leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear. “i’ll make it good for you.” | In some strange way it was therapeutic to read this but at the same time I felt bad for the reader in the first part. Second part you are rooting for her but still feeling bad. I will say the smut in this is perfect.

Just Like Dad Pt. 3 🦾 Pt. 1 🦾 Pt. 2 by @ladyfallonavenger » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky finally confronts Steve and moves forward with his life. | Very sweet ending and I loved it.

Sweet Dreams 🥞 Pt. 4 🥞 Pt. 5 🥞 Pt. 6 🥞 Pt. 7 by @jedimastermelkor » Bucky Barnes x Reader & ? x Avenger — Your daily routine involves waking up in the morning, going to work and sulking at night. But then you meet the man you’ve fantasized about for your entire life, Bucky Barnes. At the same time, you’ve caught someone else’s eye and his first step in winning you over is to cook you breakfast. But will you be welcoming of that person’s affections? | I like how she named the puppy Pancake and the first thing the mysterious avenger gave her was pancakes. I don’t want to give too much away but things are getting really good and you find out who the mysterious avenger is in chapter 6!

Steve Rogers

One-Shots:

*Caught by @giorno-plays-piano » Bluebeard!Steve Rogers x Reader — If he kept you warm, saying words of love to you every day while he looked you in the face, you’d marry him even if in a year he hanged you just like all his wives in the dungeon of his castle. | It’s dark but in a soft way and it’s so good. I highly recommend you go and read it.

Drabble Request by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader — We find out how Steve and Reader met before they ever got in a relationship. Takes place before Tell Me What You Want. | I loved this so much, I was laughing and pictured this whole piece so vividly in my brain. Also I just want a part where Bucky teases Steve about that night in front of reader making her giggle, maybe at the wedding?

(Mini) Series:

*Yuánfèn 📖 Pt. 4 by @writerwrites » Steve Rogers x Reader — When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart? | I always look forward to the updates on this story. It brings me so much comfort and the relationship that is blossoming between the reader and Steve is beautiful and organic. I highly recommend this.

Misc.

Headcanons:

*Just Like Her Old Man by @rebelwrites » Chibs Telford x Reader — I asked for: Parents get called into school for a meeting due to their daughter fighting, and trying not to be proud. Taking them out for a treat after the meeting. | It turned out so great. If you knew me at my Sons Anarchy Days, you know I loved Chibs the most. This feed my love for him even more. Thank you Heather!!

One-Shot:

*A Simple Solution by @sweetlyscared » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Fem!Reader x Ari Levinson — You and Andy had a purely sexual relationship for several months, and you’d started to grow attached to him. Unfortunately, life has a way of complicating things, and a chance encounter at a bookstore had you stuck between a rock and a hard place. | We all owe a huge thank you to Sweet Lee, for writing and posting this. She wrote our dreams out so perfectly, and if you haven’t thought of this now you can. It’s just so hot and good, I for one am very thankful.

(Mini) Series:

*Give In 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 23 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 24 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 25 by @overr-written » soft!dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader — She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting. | I love this series so much and the lengths that the chapters are. I really am going to be sad when this is over. I don’t ever want it to end. 😭

Seal Team

One-Shots:

Imma Take Care Of Your Body by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Reader is the only female member on Bravo who also has a no strings attached relationship with Rebel. | Let me just say this is hot, like really hot. Give me a glass of water and let me cool down. Thank you Heather for blessing us with this.

Tier One Babysitters by @bravo-four-seal-team » Seal Team; Ray Perry x Naima Perry — Ray and Naima ask the team to watch 6 month old Jameelah. | I promise you will be laughing.

You Are Perfect by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Clay tells you everything he loves about you. | As a big boned girl this meant a lot and has me wishing for a Clay Spenser to call my own.

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

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driver’s license ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2520

request?: no

description: in which a new song reminds her too much of her ex, and leads them to reconnect

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst, sadness

based on this song (of course)

masterlist

Who knew that a song by a 17 year old could cause so much hurt to be brought back for me? Not to bash 17 year olds or anything, but when I was 17 I could never write something so heartbreakingly beautiful.

I was on my way home from work when the song came on the radio for the first time. I was captivated by the lyrics immediately and found myself having to pull over because I couldn’t stop crying. It took a solid five minutes and having to play my happy playlist on Spotify before I finally felt okay enough to get home, however the minute I got in through the door I found the song on Spotify and listened to it all night.

The lyrics connected with me in a way that a song hadn’t in years, and the pain in the singer’s voice opened up fresh wounds that I had thought were long closed.

She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about

Of course he ended up with her. Even if he hadn’t actually left me for her, he always told me there was nothing between them besides on screen chemistry. And now they were dating and supposedly “so in love”.

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

He wrote so many songs about me. He played every one of them for me after writing and recording them, just to get my approval and my okay to put them out. They were beautiful songs - songs in which he promised forever. He’d always said he was going to marry me one day, make me the mother of his future kids. His “forever girl”.

Can't drive past the places we used to go to 'Cause I still fucking love you, babe

God...did I ever still love him.

Our relationship didn’t get a proper closure. At least, not on my end. It all happened so fast. He came home after a long tour and was silent the whole night. He didn’t even try to make love to me the way he always did after being away from me for so long. The next morning, he told me over breakfast that he had lost feelings for me. He asked me to get my things and take them back to the apartment I still had despite basically living out of his home. Then he left, saying he didn’t want to be there to watch me leave.

After that, it was like he stopped existing. Well, it was like Colson Baker stopped existing. Machine Gun Kelly was everywhere, especially after announcing his new relationship with Megan Fox, in which he made sure to post pictures and videos with her basically every week. But the Colson I knew and loved stopped existing. He blocked me on everything, even my phone number. He didn’t reach out to me, neither did Casie. I figured the latter was because her father told her not to, which almost hurt more than the breakup did. I loved Casie like my own daughter, and I loved Colson more than anything. And in the span of 12 hours, I lost both of them.

I credited that non-closure to the reason I had such a hard time moving on, even after being broken up almost a year. I really thought I was okay, until I heard fucking Olivia Rodrigo singing about her own heartbreak, and it made me remember mine was still fresh.

On one day that my thoughts were becoming too dark to bare on my own, I decided to go out for a drive to clear my head. I turned on the song, just to make myself more depressed I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention to the road (not good, I know) and, I guess by some muscle memory, I found myself driving down Colson’s street. I hadn’t realized where I was until I saw his familiar house, which his familiar car in the driveway...and his familiar tall frame getting out of it.

My breath caught in my throat and I was sure I was about to crash the car. I looked at him for a little too long, every good memory we ever had rushing back in that moment. He was looking down at his keys as he bumped the car door shut with his hip. I wondered if Megan was in the house waiting for him, and found that that thought hurt me more than actually seeing him.

I saw his head lifting, looking in my direction, for a split second before my eyes darted back to the road. I hoped he couldn’t see me in the driver’s seat, or that he didn’t see me looking at him. I hoped he just thought I was a random car passing through the neighborhood. If he couldn’t see that it was specifically me driving, there was no way he’d know it was my car. There were too many cars like it.

My heart was racing and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes again. I knew I had to pull over, but I was still too close to his house to feel comfortable stopping. I blinked my tears away and continued driving, trying to steady my heartbeat as I drove to the coffee shop just at the end of his road. The one we always used to go to.

I got out and went inside, hoping that getting something to eat and drink would help me to settle down before I drove home. I ordered an iced coffee and a muffin and took it to sit in a booth tucked away in the back of the coffee shop. I was trying to distract myself with my phone when someone approached and spoke.

“Hey.”

My whole body tensed up as I looked up to see - of course - Colson stood over me.

“Hey,” I said. I cringed at how hoarse my voice sounded. God, pull it together (Y/N).

“I thought that was you driving past my place,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, trying to come up with some excuse on the spot as to why I was in the neighborhood. “I haven’t been to this place in so long and found myself craving some coffee. I guess...it was just muscle memory to come through your way to get here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I...I actually got a little excited. I thought...I thought maybe you were coming over for a second. I forgot...”

His voice trailed away.

How could he forget we broke up when he was the one who dumped me? And he was the one who moved on soo effortlessly?

“Can I sit?” he asked.

I shrugged in response. “Free country.”

He chuckled at my joke, and my heart did an involuntary flip. God, I missed that laugh.

He sat across from me in the booth and looked down at his hands. I stared down at the food in front of me, suddenly feeling too queasy to eat. Instead, I took another sip of my iced coffee.

“How have you been?” he asked.

The questioned annoyed me.

How have I been?! Well, let’s see: you absolutely shattered my heart, went MIA on me and took your daughter with you, started seeing the much older, much prettier actress that you told me you had no feelings for and decided to rub it in my face through social media, all while I have been so broken for nearly a year that I constantly have friends and family checking in on me to make sure I’m still alive. How the fuck do you think I’ve been?!

I decided not to respond that way though, even though I was aching to make him feel bad for what he did to me. I knew it was the smarter option to try and be the bigger person in this situation.

“I’ve been okay,” I responded, trying to be as vague as possible. “Not too much as happened really. Still...same old me.”

I didn’t ask him how he was, because I already knew. He knew that I knew, because how could I not? His face was plastered everywhere, usually sucking on Megan’s face as well.

“It’s cool to see you,” he said instead. “I...It’s been too long.”

“Well, it tends to be hard to communicate when you block someone on everything overnight.”

I quickly took a sip of my iced coffee, almost wishing that would put the words back in my mouth.

Colson winced. “Yeah, that was...that was wrong of me. I...I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you here, Colson?” I finally snapped. So much for being the bigger person. “Couldn’t you have just watched me drive past in peace? Did you have to follow me?”

“I felt like I had to,” he said. “I wanted...I wanted to know I hadn’t just seen you this time like all the other times I saw a car that looked like yours. I had to know if it was actually you this time. And I...I had to see you in person again.”

“You could’ve called at any time,” I reminded him. “Or messaged on social media, or even just texted. You could’ve even sent a fucking letter, Colson! If you wanted to see me that bad, you had ways of reaching out. You decided not to, you decided that the break up meant I was non-existent to you anymore.”

“I know!” he snapped back, his hand hitting the table and causing the contents on it to rattle. All eyes in the coffee shop were staring at us for a brief moment before going back to what they were doing. “I fucking know, and it was the worst fucking mistake I’ve ever made. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I was a complete idiot.”

“Sorry means nothing to me, Colson,” I told him. “Sorry doesn’t undo the year of heartbreak and agony you put me through. Sorry doesn’t undo the fact that you left me for six months to go on tour, that you texted and called me every morning and every night to tell me how much you loved me and how you couldn’t wait to see me again, even on the night before you came home, only to do a complete 180 the moment you got off the plane. It doesn’t excuse the fact that you told me to take my shit and leave the place I had considered a home for two years because you were ending the five year relationship that you claimed to be so deeply in love with. And it especially doesn’t excuse the fact that mere months after the break up you were all over Megan fucking Fox!”

He was silent for a long time. His eyes were becoming moist with tears, and I could feel a lump growing in my own throat. But I couldn’t break. I refused to do so. Not in front of him, not right now.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he finally breathed, his voice cracking slightly. “You have to know how much I truly do fucking love you, (Y/N). That never went away. It’s still there, you’re still my forever girl in my heart. But when I came home from tour...my manager called me as I was boarding the flight and told me that there was a plan in motion to get promo for the new album and for the movie with Megan. They wanted Megan and I to date for PR, to be all lovey dovey in front of the cameras and to gush over one another constantly. I reminded him about you and he told me I had to break up with you. He gave me no option, he said either I did that or I was being dropped from the label. No album, no movie, no...no nothing. Just the loser who was still being referred to as the idiot who got his career destroyed by Eminem.”

It was a shocking revelation. I had known Colson’s manager, he seemed like such a nice guy. He didn’t seem like the type to give those kinds of ultimatums. But there was that saying about a wolf in sheep’s clothing...

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“It was easier to make you think I just wasn’t in love anymore,” he said. “I didn’t want you to think I was choosing my career over you, cause I’d never do that. You meant - you mean - the world to me (Y/N). You’re my everything. I just...all the hard work I was putting into everything, for all of that to go to waste, for everything to flop just because I didn’t want to fake date my co-star. I was afraid of the power my manager held over me so...so I just did it. I went along with the plan. I pretended to be hopelessly in love with Megan when I had no feelings for her at all.”

He reached across the table and took my hands in his. I jumped and thought about pulling away from him, but I couldn’t deny that it felt nice to feel his touch again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said. “More than anything, you’re the person I want to be with. That bullshit with Megan, it’s long over. We just haven’t made it known publicly, but it will be announced. I want to try and pick up where things left off with us. I want to have you back in my home - in my arms - preparing to marry you someday. Please, (Y/N), can you please forgive me?”

It was the words I wanted to hear more than anything. I had dreamt about hearing Colson ask to take me back ever since he had broken up with me. At that point in time, I probably would’ve jumped at the chance, too. But this time, I slowly pulled my hands away from his. He looked at me in confusion.

“I can’t,” I told him. “Colson, you really fucking hurt me. You left me with no explanation, not even any closure. I get why you did it, but you have to understand that you telling me now isn’t going to undo a year’s worth of hurt that you put me through. I don’t know if anything will ever undo that at this point.”

I stood from the booth, taking my coffee with me and leaving a heartbroken Colson looking up at me with puppy dog eyes.

“There’s this song I’ve been listening to,” I said. “It’s called Driver’s License. I think it’s the only accurate way to describe how much you hurt me when you broke up with me. I encourage you to listen to it, then you can try to take me back again.”

I turned quickly and left before he could see me cry.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #drivers license #olivia rodrigo #imagine #one shot #angst #song #song prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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bbyboybrock--archived · 3 years

Text

Hide and Seek (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* omg what about Colby helping the reader hide in a laundry basket during hide and seek and she wins 😳✨

Written: 2020

Word Count: 1,611

Warnings: mention of death, minor fluff, swearing

Masterlist

I’m laying flat on my back eating the pizza we ordered. I feel my head being lifted and placed in someone’s lap. I shift my eyes up and meet Colby’s eyes. I furrow my eyebrows and glare at him. He really has the audacity to interrupt me during pizza time.

“Don’t get mad at me. If you choke on death while eating pizza, I’m not saving your dumbass. I keep telling you to not eat laying down, Y/N.” Colby says kissing my forehead.

“If I die eating pizza, at least I’ll die doing something I love,” I shout before shoving another bite of pizza in my mouth.

“I’m something you love, why not go out doing me?” Colby asks smirking.

“For the love of God and all things holy, please get a room. This Air BnB is full of them.” Corey screams from the couch.

Everyone got together for the week and chipped in on an Air BnB. We each chose days and what videos we would film for everyone’s channel. Even Mike is here, which I thought would be more awkward than it is because Xepher and Griffin are here too. Corey and Devyn are here too, but that is less awkward than it is with that trio. The fact that we were able to get the whole family together is amazing.

We’ve gotten together for some group videos, but because the pandemic was happening at the time so we tried to keep it to less than ten people. But now that all of that is over, we figured we would surprise our fans with a slew of group videos. They don’t even know that we’re here. We all planned by taking photos and videos before we left so we can post on our stories and everyone will think we’re at home, not hanging out together. 2020 was stressful, 2021 is going to be better for all of us, so we’re getting our fans in the right mindset.

“Everyone almost done? It’s dark enough now so we can get ready to film my videos.” Sam says as he starts to grab the empty pizza boxes. Kat helps him by grabbing the empty bottles.

I shove the rest of my pizza in my mouth and shoot up. Colby stares at me in disbelief and shoves my drink in my mouth.

“My God, woman, people are going to start thinking I starve you at home. I’m not joking about letting you choke. Eat like a normal person, please.” I manage to swallow what I had left in my mouth and smile.

“I’m sorry babe, you know how much I love pizza. I’ll be much more careful this week, I promise.” I kiss Colby’s cheek and go help everyone clean up.

Everyone is lined up for Sam’s videos. Of course, we’re playing hide and seek AND playing the mafia game. I have yet to win either game, but I am dead set on winning hide and seek. I found the perfect hiding spot earlier when we were filming Kevin’s video earlier. I’m so excited, Colby is holding my hand to try to get me to stop bouncing off the walls. It’s not working. I think this has something to do with the five cups of coke that I drank earlier. That’s a lot of caffeine. I hope I can stay still in my hiding spot.

“Okay everyone, you guys have 15 minutes once I close the door to find a hiding spot. Remember, you can only move once.” Sam explains before leaving us alone.

I pull Colby’s hand and drag him upstairs. When we get to the room that Colby and I chose to stay in, I let go of his hand and take off my jacket.

“I like the idea, but we don’t have enough time.” Colby jokes.

“No— I need your help. Empty the hamper.” I say quickly as I open the cabinet door and showing him the built-in hamper. It was already full when we got here, and it’s bolted to the wall. Sam can’t pick it up and hopefully, he won’t move the clothes. It’s the perfect spot.

“First of all, that’s disgusting, those are other people’s clothes and we don’t know how long it’s been here. Second, you’re going to suffocate. You really do have a death wish tonight, don’t you?” Colby turns on the lights so I can see him

“Do you really want to talk about death wishes, Mr. X.P.L.R. in dangerous places every day? Besides, I thought of all that. Just help me. I want to win this time. Pretty please?” I pull out all the clothes and give Colby the old puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, but you’re going to owe me big time. And I’m going to text you every few minutes so you don’t die.” I jump up and run back into the room. I position my shoes so it looks like I’m hiding under the bed. I grab the tape and a towel before running back to Colby. I empty the contents of my jacket pocket into the hamper.

I turn to Colby so he can help me climb in. He scoops me up and places me gently in the basket.

“Hand me the towel, please. It’s my only buffer with the dirty clothes.” I explain, pointing to the towel.

“That’s a great idea babe, but how are you going to breathe? Or not pass out from the heat?” Colby asks as he starts to cover me with the towel.

“Don’t worry, this is why I’ve been stealing straws all night and took off my jacket. Before you ask, I stole some water and snacks so I should be good for an hour or two. Make sure you cover me well and close the doors.”

“I hope my next girlfriend isn’t a crazy dumbass,” Colby mutters as he places the dirty laundry on me.

“You’re next what now?” I move the towel and sit straight up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait at least a year after you’re gone. I’ll mourn you every day. I’ll name my next dog after you.” Colby is smirking, trying not to laugh.

“Okay, after tonight, we’re having a serious talk about your fascination with my death. Also, you name a dog after me, I’m haunting your ass when I actually do die. Now hurry up, time is almost out and you still have to h—” Colby throws the towel back over my head and dumps a whole bunch of clothes on me.

“I’m kidding and I love you!” Colby yells before shoving more clothes on me.

A few minutes later I feel Colby stop putting clothes on top of me. I look at my phone and see that Colby has about 5 minutes left to find a hiding place. I slide down and comfortably position myself. It’s already getting hot in here, maybe Colby was right. Like I would ever tell him that. His head is already big enough, I don’t need to fuel his ego anymore. I pull out my AirPods and turn on my favorite playlist to keep me occupied for however long I’m going to be in there. I get a text from Colby saying that he found a spot and asking me how I was. I reply to Colby and film my perspective of where I am for Sam’s video before closing my phone to save battery. This is going to be a long night, I can already tell.

****

“Y/N, wake up, this isn’t funny anymore.” Someone, I think Colby, yells as they shake me.

I rub my eyes and yawn before opening one eye. Sam and Colby stand over me, shining a light in my face.

“Did I win?” I ask sitting up and stretching.

“Oh my God! You little shit…” Colby falls back on the floor and mutters a slew of swear words to himself.

“Yeah, Y/N you won. And gave all of us heart attacks in the meantime.” Sam explains helping me out. Aryia, who was probably holding the camera, also helps me out.

Colby is standing up now and helping me get my stuff out of the bottom of the hamper. I notice the camera on the camera and do a cute pose in front of it. I’m not sure if I passed out from the heat or fell asleep because I was tired. Either way, I’m super sweaty now and I have never loved being out in the open more than I do now.

Sam and Ariya start to head downstairs, and I start to follow them until I feel Colby pull me back. I twirl around to face him. His eyes have a twinkle to them and the corner of his mouth are creeping towards his eyes. He has those crinkles that I love, the type he only gets when he smiles. He doesn’t do it much anymore, at least, not when we’re working. I see them a lot when we’re together, he hates them but I love them. It means he’s truly happy and it makes my heart full.

“What? Sam has to end his video.” I push Colby’s hair out of his eyes.

“Just wait a second. I know I joked a lot about you dying tonight, but when you stopped responding to my text and when I found you asleep in the bottom of the basket— No more stupid ideas for a while.” Colby kisses my forehead and strokes my hair.

“Fine, but you know that Jake and I are going to eventually cause chaos on this trip.” I kiss Colby’s cheek before going to join everyone downstairs.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #imagine #imagines #colby brock x reader #fluff imagine #sam and colby #sam and colby imagine #sam and colby imagines

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kingofkingdom-archive · 3 years

Text

1979

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (Read part 2 HERE)

Rating: T (Teen) - part 2 will be E

Summary: The year is 1979. You need a ride to anywhere that’s far away from where you are. When a handsome stranger in a rustbucket pickup gives you that ride, neither of you could predict any of the events that follow.

Warnings: Smoking (and lots of it), mild violence (a punch is thrown), brief harassment of reader, food, mention of a gun (one is encountered but not used), mention of homelessness, brief mention/description of war (Vietnam), child abandonment, mention of abusive/dangerous father figure, passing mention of serial killers, vague description of non-specific events leading up to reader resorting to hitchhiking, very meta mention of a certain beloved space opera

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: Whew! This one has been in the shop for a LONG while. Originally I meant for this to be a single work, but I’ve hit a bit of a slump with the last bit. I decided to post this to see how y’all feel about it! The second part will be much longer :) Also: I know there has been some discourse recently about Din’s characterization in certain fics, so I hope this does him justice for you! I’m always open to comments, and like I said I’m very interested in hearing what you think! As per usual, no use of Y/N and please heed the tags/warnings.

8:47

You lean against the streetlight, glancing down at your watch and then back up to the motel across the street. You told yourself you'd wait until 8:30 and then you'd go back and reserve a room for another night. As you watch the second hand wind its way around the small, plain face of your 2-dollar timepiece, you've convinced yourself that maybe staying out until 9 is the ticket.

Your ticket, out of this shithole town.

The summer air is hot and thick around you. It's especially unbearable both between your legs and at the band of your bra, the elastic stretched around your middle doing its best to make you feel as sweaty and uncomfortable as possible. At least you're wearing your cutoffs, giving your legs the chance to breathe. You've also got a loose tank on, which flutters in the sticky wind as cars pass you by.

8:51

Your thumb has been stuck out for passerby to see for the past three days. No one has picked you up. You suppose you should be more wary of taking lifts from complete strangers with all the murder and kidnapping that's been in the news recently, but you're more than a little headstrong with a dash of stupid to go along. That's what your mother always told you, anyway.

Some Cadillac speeds past you, blaring what you think is a Donna Summer song, and you watch as the music and taillights fade into the night.

You shouldn't be surprised, you figure, as the minutes continue to tick on by. There's a gas shortage, you reason with yourself as you bend down to pick up your bag, thumb still stuck out, elbow resting on your waist. People don't do this anymore. Afraid of getting picked up by a pervert or a killer. Afraid of picking one up, and then a streetlight just like the one you're under is the last thing they see.

8:58

You sigh, ready to head in for the night. Marvin, dude who sits at the motel's front desk, is sure to give you shit about it again.

You're preparing to cross the street when you hear the low growl of a pickup truck approach. Not looking to get creamed by some fuckin' rusted-out GMC, you step back onto the curb where you'd been posted.

Except the truck slows up, and the window rolls down as it crawls to a stop in front of you.

Your heart races. Finally.

You walk up to the passenger side window and look in, expecting some fat old putz looking to get some tail in exchange for a ride.

That's not what you see.

"Need a lift, young lady?"

The truck's driver is older than you, sure, but you were wrong about pretty much everything else. He's got short dark hair and a 'stache, with some stubble across his chin. He's wearing a leather jacket over a plain gray tee, with a pair of sunglasses hung on the collar. One hand is on the wheel while the other is laid across the back of the bench seat, a cigarette perched in between his first two fingers.

You lean forward on your tiptoes as best you can, forearms resting on the door's open window. Pretending to survey the interior, you look around and take the opportunity to check the man out. God, you think. I wouldn't mind giving him whatever he wants in exchange for this ride. Maybe another kinda ride. Ha!

"As it turns out, I do. You offering?"

You rest your chin on your arms and give him the sweetest smile you can muster. The man eyes you up and takes a drag from his cigarette. You watch with rapt attention as he inhales deeply and then exhales the smoke out through his nose.

This guy's got you all hot and bothered and you haven't even gotten in the truck.

He gestures with his hand. "Come on, kid. I gotta make the state line by midnight."

You definitely like the sound of that. Eager and supremely stoked to finally have a way out of this dump, you pull on the handle, jump in, and swing the door closed behind you. Your backpack finds its place between your feet, and the stranger starts driving again as you pull your seatbelt across your shoulders.

"Where're you headed?" the man asks, glancing over to you and then looking back at the road. The asphalt seems to stretch into infinity, flanked by trees and fields and the occasional watering hole.

"Away from here," you chuckle as you fidget with your fingers. Black nail polish decorates your trimmed nails. It's chipped and uneven in some spots; you never were great at painting your nails, especially your right hand.

"I got that," the man drawls, voice deep and smooth like honey. "Any particular destination in mind?"

You shrug. To be honest, you hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. Your first and only priority was a way out, and anything after that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

"Nope. Just as far as you're willing to take me."

The guy nods and takes a drag. The smell of cigarettes never bothered you like it does some other people; you find it relaxing, calming, especially when it's fresh and all-consuming like it is in this guy's truck. The vehicle itself is old, maybe 10 or 15 years, and a glance into the bed behind you tells you he's traveling with a couple boxes and nothing more.

It's certainly not state-of-the-art, but that's all the better for staying under the radar.

The silence looms over you like a cloud. The stranger seems content to just listen to the engine and the tires on the road, but you're prone to fill silences unprompted.

"What's your name?" you ask, and look over at him. He glances at you and raises a brow.

He clears his throat, eyes moving back to the road. "You can call me Mando."

"Mando?" you retort before you can stop yourself. "What kinda bogus name is that? Like, what... you got a thing for mandolins or some shit?"

The man huffs. "It is what is, kid. Get used to it."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Alright, alright... Mando."

He doesn't try to continue the conversation, so you don't either. Minutes pass, and then hours, and you find yourself drifting off not too long after the clock reads 10:00. You shake yourself awake, wanting to stave off sleep until he pulls over to rest for the night.

But the engine is like a lullaby, the soft swaying of the truck a gentle rocking motion, and your eyes fall closed despite your best efforts.

When you wake up again, the truck is no longer moving, and the clock reads 12:30.

You must have been woken up by Mando putting the truck into park. The darkness outside does not give any clues as to where you are, but as your eyes adjust you can just make out some picnic tables, garbage cans, and signs.

A rest area. Makes sense.

Mando is fumbling with something beside you. It's a map, you realize when you look over.

"Where are we?" you ask with a yawn.

"Just over the border. Made it a bit later than I would've liked, but that's not a big deal. You can sleep here in the cab. I'll take the bed, since I sleep there anyway."

You nod, though you find it odd the way he's... not asking you for anything. He hasn't mentioned payment, monetary or otherwise. You watch as he folds the map back up, and catch his gaze as he stashes it in the glove box.

"I gotta repay you somehow, mister," you mutter. "For how nice you're bein' to me. 'Specially since I made fun of your name and all."

At your words, Mando gives you a stern look from under one of his furrowed brows. "No, you don't. Blanket's under the seat. Get some rest."

He turns away, grabs the keys, and is out the door before you can reply.

It's just so unusual for a guy to pick up a girl like you and refuse payment, much less not ask for or take it outright. It's a shame, really. Any other guy, you'd give him what he wanted sure, but with less than enthusiastic participation. The one man to whom you'd gladly deliver anything he asked... and he seems not to want it.

You suppose you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Better a prude than a murderer, that's for sure.

As you reach under the seat for the blanket, your hand brushes against some sort of canvas bag, long and zippered. You lean over to look in at it upside-down, hair brushing against the dusty floor mats.

It's a rifle bag. You reach in to feel at where the barrel would be, and sure enough, there's something distinctly rifle-shaped inside.

Huh. It's not a surprise that a guy like him's traveling armed, but it makes you wonder. A hunter, maybe? Probably. There's a lot of those around.

You spot the blanket and pull it out. It's gray, scratchy wool, but as you pull it over yourself, you find it keeps the nighttime chill away quite well.

You wake up to Mando swatting at your feet.

"Time to get up, sunshine. Gotta get going."

His deep voice pierces through the fog of sleep still hanging thick over your mind. You groan and push yourself up onto your elbows, drawing your feet in to give him space to slide into the drivers' seat.

It's still dark out. You see a hint of light on the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise peeking over hills and fields.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing at your eyes. You're a chronic over-sleeper, so seeing the sunrise is a rarity. It seems Mando has no such problem.

"A bit after six. We'll stop at a diner for something to eat in about an hour. You're welcome to go back to sleep until then." He turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life, a blast of lukewarm air hitting you in the face.

"No, no. I'm up," you assure him, shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. As you fold it, you look over at the man beside you. He's wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket as yesterday, but the shirt underneath has changed. The sunglasses are still hung on the collar, but now it's some faded band tee from like 8 years ago.

You set the folded-up blanket on the seat between you and him, watching as he puts the truck into drive and starts off. Before you know it, you're watching the early-morning world pass by outside your window. You kick off your sandals and tuck your feet up under yourself, sitting crosslegged on the seat.

About 15 minutes later, you've grown tired of watching farmhouses and cornfields fly by in the dark.

"So, uh..." you start, not really knowing where you intend to finish your sentence, "you like music?"

Stupid. That was stupid.

Mando chuckles. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" you reply, hopeful that he might have more to say.

"Yes. I do like music."

You roll your eyes. "What kind of music? Jazz? Opera? Country-western? Who's your favorite artist? Got any favorite records?"

He glances over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I figure if I'm gonna be traveling with you for a good while, I might as well know a bit about you. And vice versa."

Mando just hums.

"I'll tell you mine, then," you inform him, grinning widely now. "My favorite record right now is Parallel Lines. By Blondie, you know? I really like them. This time last year I woulda told you my favorite album was something by Wire or the Sex Pistols - I was real into punk, if you know anything about it. Now I'm more into poppy stuff. I just think it's fun, to be honest."

You continue to ramble to Mando well into the drive. The sky grows lighter and the road grows more crowded, but he does not stop you. At the end of a tangent about Bowie, you turn to look at him, and he's sitting there like you haven't just talked his ear off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sorry. I jus-"

"Don't apologize. It's... I don't mind," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the sandal-shaped marks on the tops of your feet. "Don't you have any particular songs you like?"

Mando's quiet for a minute. You wait, looking up out the window. The sky is a pale pink and blue, with a hint of orange off to the east. A field of cows comes up on your left - your eyes track them as they pass by, wondering what it's like to pet one.

You bet they're soft. Soft and cuddly and so dumb they're cute.

"You have to promise not to laugh."

The words come as a surprise. You look over to Mando, eyes wide and interested.

"Never. Favorite music is sacred."

He sighs. His grip tightens on the wheel, like sharing even a small part of himself causes him distress.

"Tapestry. Carole King," he says, though the words are quiet and guarded.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting. "Really?" you ask, smiling brightly.

He just nods, though he spares a glance towards you, like he's gauging your reaction. You lean back against the seat, turning towards him more fully.

"I wouldn't have guessed. Color me surprised, Mando. You have good taste." It's true. The album's a classic, though more so with girls your age, not guys who pick up hitchhikers and keep rifles in their trucks. "What do you like about it?"

Mando shifts, bringing his left arm up to rest on the door, elbow propped so his head can rest on his hand. "Not sure. She writes a good song, that's all I know."

You're not satisfied with that answer. You'll get to know Mando, even if it's like pulling teeth. "Bull-shit. Pink Floyd writes a good song. Paul Simon writes a good song. Why her? Why that record? It came out like ten years ago, there's gotta be a reason - a real reason - you still like it."

The drone of the engine and the road is like a soundtrack in itself to the silences that loom heavy before every sentence he speaks. You wonder when the last time he really got to talk to someone was - talk like this, not small conversation with the waiter or grocer.

You're no psychiatrist, but it doesn't take a genius to spot someone who's been alone for a while.

Mando hums. "I guess I relate to her songs... in a way I didn't expect to when I first heard her music."

You smile at that, pleased as punch that he trusts you with that information. It's like cupping cool water in your hands on a hot summer's day, fleeting and precious. "What's your favorite song on the record?"

He turns his gaze to your for a moment, dark brown eyes staring at your dirty feet and day-old shirt and messy hair. You're not sure what exactly he sees as he takes you in, but you sit there and allow it regardless.

Mando looks back to the road, watching the small town approaching slowly on the horizon. "I Feel the Earth Move."

You nod. "A classic."

He just hums in response, and you expect the truck to fill with silence once again.

Except it doesn't.

Mando reaches out and presses the button to turn on the radio. Blondie's Heart of Glass flows out through the speakers - and you laugh.

The glowing neon sign advertising Lindy's Diner, with her promise of pancakes and eggs and bacon and coffee, gets you more excited than you care to admit. Mando pulls into a parking spot along the street, and you're out the door before the wheels have stopped turning.

Admittedly, you do also have to pee.

You rush into the diner to take care of your business, also using the provided sinks to brush your teeth and the mirror to comb through your hair with your fingers.

It's not much, but you do feel better. Hopefully tonight you can stay in a motel at least, maybe take a shower.

You exit the restroom and look around the diner. Mando's sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. You head over, tossing your backpack into your side first and sliding in after it.

"I'll be right back," he says, and leaves. You watch him walk over to the men's restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Whatever. Kinda rude. Not like you care, anyway.

You lean back in the booth and take a menu from the stand at the end of the table. The classic breakfast platter is looking particularly tempting, with its hash browns and bacon and eggs-however-you-like. You're contemplating scrambled versus over-easy when you hear a pair of footsteps walk up to your table.

Two strange men stand over you, looking at you like they know exactly how homeless you really are.

"You here alone, baby?" the shorter one asks, putting a grimy hand on the back of your booth, right behind your head. You open your mouth to say no, in fact, I am not, but the other guy speaks for you.

"It looks like you are, honey. Just our luck, a girl like you all on her -"

"Is there a problem?"

Mando's deep voice cuts through whatever it was the creep was planning to say. The low timbre of his voice, normally soft and kind, is uniquely dark - almost menacing - when it hides a threat.

You slowly cross your legs, hoping no one notices the movement under the table.

The two guys turn, and behind them you see Mando, looking extremely pissed. He puts a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, cig still perched between his fingers, and yanks him away from where he'd been standing in front of Mando's side of the booth.

"Jesus, man! We didn't know you were -"

Mando puts his hands on his hips, eyeing them up like a lion might size up its prey. "What? You didn't know what?"

The guy gulps. "Uh..."

"Come on," Mando taunts, something dark glinting in his eyes. "Don't get nervous on me, now."

"We didn't know you were with her, man. Sorry."

Mando shakes his head. "No. Don't say that to me. Say it to her." He nods hid head towards you, subtly positioning his body in between yours and theirs.

You're frozen in your seat, torn between fear and arousal.

The tall guy glances at you. "Sorry," he mutters. The shorter one's still looking at you funny, though.

Your companion jerks his head towards the door. "It's best you both leave, now."

You realize the diner's gone quiet, customers and employees alike watching the exchange with bated breath. The taller guy glances around and turns, heading straight for the door. His buddy hesitates, gaze shifting from Mando to you and back again. Eventually he also turns to leave, following the other one out.

Mando slides into his seat, though he won't quite meet your gaze when you look at him. Noise picks up in the diner once again and you let out a shaky breath.

You're about to say something when the two guys pass by the window. The shorter one peers in, works his jaw, and spits on the ground on the other side of the window from you. You see him mouth the word 'bitch!'.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Mando to try and joke about it, attempting to brush off the uncomfortable encounter. But he's not there, and you realize belatedly that he's now storming outside.

Mouth agape, you watch as Mando stalks up to the short guy. Jesus, you think, if looks could kill...

The creep whirls around, throwing a fist at Mando before he even gets a good look at him. Mando dodges it easily with a step back, looking simultaneously murderous and annoyed. He winds his arm back and sends his fist flying at the creep's face. The guy stumbles and falls, clutching at what is now a bloody and broken nose, landing on his back on the sidewalk. His friend has long run off.

Mando puts a boot on the guy's sternum, pressing down so he can't get up no matter how much he struggles.

You see him lean down, elbow on his knee, and say something. The guy's eyes widen and he nods frantically. Mando then removes his foot and, without sparing the guy a second glance, re-enters the diner.

He slides into the booth again and takes the menu from you. There's blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but he makes no move to wipe it off. He flips through the pages as if nothing happened. You stare at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter, voice soft and wavering.

Without looking from the menu, he responds. "Yes, I did."

"But, you coulda just... just let him go..."

"I could have," he replies, and turns a page. "But I didn't."

"But -"

For the first time since you both entered the diner, he looks up at you, and you're taken aback the intensity of his eyes. "He deserved worse, kid. Far worse."

He sounds so sure of it that you can't bring yourself to say otherwise. You sigh and clasp your hands together on the table, unsure of where to go from here.

Just then, the waitress comes up to your table, notepad and pen in hand.

"You two know what ya want?" she asks as Mando puts the menu back in its place.

He gestures for you to go first.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the classic platter with scrambled eggs and white toast. And black coffee, please."

The woman nods, writing your order on her pad. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the blueberry flapjacks, please. And coffee, black, for me as well."

The waitress nods and turns away. As you watch her push through the silver kitchen door, you realize that maybe you should be grateful for the way things went. That they didn't get uglier.

That Mando was there at all.

"Thank you," you say softly, doing your best to convey your sincerity to the man sitting across from you.

He simply nods, observing you with a look you can't quite place.

After breakfast, the two of you set off down the highway again. Fleetwood Mac flows out through the speakers and you don't expect to stop until after noon, when Mando will have to refuel (both the truck and your stomachs). Until then you kick off your shoes and put your feet up on the dash, window cracked about an inch so the summer wind can flow through your hair.

Despite the rocky start to the morning, the hours pass by easily, weightlessly. Sometimes you talk with Mando, other times you simply sit and watch the world pass by. You don't think you've ever seen this much land in one go, and it thrills you. The idea that there's so much more.

The topics vary from your time in school to movies to the truck. You're surprised to find out that Mando's never seen Star Wars, a fact nearly unheard of to you. You promise yourself that you'll make him watch it sometime, somehow.

Lunch passes without incident; you insist on paying for your ham and cheese sandwich, because Mando had covered breakfast before you could protest. It hits the spot, along with your ice-cold Coke from the little market's freezer. There's a line to get gas, as there is everywhere, but luckily it isn't too long, since you're in the middle of nowhere. Mando won't be able to fill the truck up again for a few days, meaning you'll have to stop for the night earlier tonight than you did yesterday.

You do find something interesting at the market and you decide to shell out the money for it because it intrigues you. A new style of Kodamatic camera, complete with a pack of instant film - 12 potential photos.

In your mind you see pictures of mountains, and the truck, and Mando, and you stuff the camera in your bag before your mind can wander any further down that road.

You have to admit - traveling with someone who you know can protect you if the need arises is comforting in a way that almost makes you nervous. You keep telling yourself not to get used to it, that this is just a temporary situation for as long as he sees fit to keep you around. After he decides he's had enough, he'll leave you, and you'll be on your own again. You can't get too dependent on him.

Nighttime arrives much too quickly. The sun has just dipped below the horizon when you drive into another small town, not much more than a stoplight and a few bars. You get lucky, though, because the unmistakable neon of a motel glows just ahead.

"Thank god," you groan as Mando pulls into the parking lot. "I need a shower so goddamned bad."

Mando chuckles. His arm rests with his hand out the window, flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette out onto the pavement. The orange glow at the end of it brightens as he takes a drag, and you tear your eyes away from his lips before he can catch you staring.

That's another problem. He's every inch as attractive to you now as he was before, except now you know he's nice. The mustache and the dark curls and the broad expanse of his chest are all only made hotter by the knowledge that he likes Carole King and Elton John (he knew all the words to Tiny Dancer) and blueberry pancakes.

Plus there was that whole punching a guy to defend your honor business.

The guy at the motel's front desk reminds you of Marvin. Greasy blond hair and acne on a kid not much younger than you. You give him a disgusted look when he eyes you up, but he cuts it out when Mando walks in behind you. It gives you a small sense of satisfaction to see him so meek before your companion.

"We need a double for the night," Mando drawls, counting cash on the counter, cig perched between his lips. The sign advertised a night's stay for $22. You'd tried to pay Mando your share, but he'd refused your money.

The kid shakes his head. "Only got singles available."

Mando raises his brows. "Really."

The kid, whose name is Matt according to his name tag, nods. It takes Mando a moment to think on it, and then he looks to you.

You shrug. "I'm fine with it if you are, Mando."

He nods once and pays for the room. 12. You take the key and head over to get a head start on your shower while Mando parks the truck and gets his stuff.

The hot water feels divine. Even the towel feels great, because as threadbare and shitty as it is, it's clean and warm from sitting under the vent. You finish up in the bathroom and emerge in a pair of old track shorts and a loose-fitting tee.

Mando's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His jacket's draped across the table and he's kicked off his boots, so he sits with the remote in hand, barefoot. It's the most casual you've seen him thus far, and it makes your heart race.

"Shower's all yours," you tell him.

Mando looks at you from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what he's thinking at any given moment, so you fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you.

A thought blooms unbidden in your chest. I wish I could kiss him.

You blink, taken aback at the sudden, intense nature of your desire to feel his lips against your own. Not knowing what else to do, you cross your arms and turn to the TV. Bonanza is on.

"Seen this episode before?" you ask. It's an old show, but you still like it.

Mando nods, humming. "Used to watch these every week, right when they came out. Only the first few seasons, though."

"Why'd you stop?"

He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the ground. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes hide something pained.

"I got drafted."

Oh. "Oh. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," he says and gets up, brushing past you to enter the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

You walk over to sit on the other side of the bed from where he was. Drafted. Jesus. You feel bad for bringing it up, even if it was unintentional. The TV plays though you aren't watching, mind wandering to thoughts of Mando in Vietnam. You picture him in the jungle or in a helicopter, the deafening noise of artillery and gunfire filling the air around him.

Maybe that's where he got the nickname. It certainly explains the rifle.

You reach over for the remote and shut off the TV. The clock on the wall reads about 8:00, still early for you, but you tuck yourself under the sheets and blanket regardless. You face the door, away from where Mando will sleep.

Just as you're drifting off, the lamp on the bedside table clicks off. You feel the weight of Mando crawling in beside you, and he too curls up on his side, back turned.

You fall asleep hoping he's not too upset with you.

The next thing you know, you're awake, though the world is still dark outside. Behind you, Mando snores softly, warm breath fanning out across your neck.

Wait.

You blink a few times and realize the two of you must have shifted in the night. Mando's body is pressed right against yours, chest to your back, arm draped over your middle and hand tucked under your chin. Your legs are intertwined and against the back of your thigh you feel -

You feel him.

Sleep is a powerful drug, however, and the realization is not enough to make you move. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you think maybe this isn't so bad. Your tired brain convinces you to revel in it, to enjoy this position you've found yourself in. Before you can second guess that reasoning, you drift off.

And then you're awake again.

This time it's thanks to a rush of cold wind in your face. You reach back to feel for Mando, but the warm pillow tells you he's not there. You open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at something. It's still dark out, but the lights of the motel parking lot put him in silhouette before you.

"What is it?" You lean up on your elbow to get a better look. The nighttime air is cool on your face, smelling faintly of gasoline and rain.

He bends down and picks up whatever it is that's in front of him. You watch as he turns to look left, then right, seemingly in search of something. He turns around and you see what he's holding.

It's a baby's carrycot.

You immediately sit up, heart racing. "Is it -?" you whisper.

Mando nods, closing the door behind him. You get out of bed and rush over to stand next to him, peering into the carrier.

Sure enough, there's a baby asleep inside. It looks to be a boy, about a year old. You bring a hand up to your mouth.

"Why - who would - what?"

Mando shakes his head, staring at the little guy. "I don't know. I heard a knock at the door and there he was - no sign of anyone else."

"We should - what do we do, Mando?"

He brings the carrier over to rest on the table beside his jacket. The boy is out cold - his little hands grip the blue knitted blanket and his mouth is just barely open. He's got dark hair, wispy and soft atop his head. As you observe the sleeping child, you notice the corner of a small piece of paper tucked in between the blanket and the cradle. You reach out and grasp it between your thumb and forefinger, unfolding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Mando whispers. Your voices are low so as to not disturb the child.

"Grogu. Please take him far from here," you read, and feel your blood run cold as the note goes on. "Not safe in this area. His father is dangerous."

It's scrawled in blue ink on half a sheet of lined notebook paper, the fringe from being torn still attached. Your hands shake as it hits you - there's some mother out there so scared for her son that she left him in the care of strangers. That there's a man out there who legitimately threatens this boy's life.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, rage and sadness simmering in your chest.

"We have to, Mando." Your words are shaky but certain. The man beside you rests a hand on the carrycot, still looking at the sleeping child within.

You turn your eyes to him. He nods, solemn.

"Let's let him rest. We'll leave in the morning, get as far west as we can. Might even be able to make Texas if we leave early enough. We can figure it out from there."

His other hand brushes against your back, and then he's drawing you into his chest. The embrace is soft, unhurried, and you lean your head against his shoulder, hands tucked against his chest. Letting your eyes slip closed, you think back on the previous day, how you never could have predicted this turn of events. How you've never felt so uncertain of things, even when you'd lost everything.

Together you return to bed, but neither of you gets much sleep.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #fanfic #din djarin fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x fem!reader #female reader #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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the-six-espada · 3 years

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TBB Spoilers below. A rant (please don’t pay me any mind, I might delete this :d)

I’ve been fighting the urge to write about this but I decided what the hell. Please note that I’m aware I am discussing the emotions and narrative of a fake show, with a fake universe and fake characters – I’m just dumping some thoughts I’ve had in the past few days.

I’m not aiming to change anyone’s opinion here – I’m well aware there are a lot of people who don’t like Crosshair as they’ve made it painfully aware in the past weeks, however I do want to calmly explain a few things and if you’re interested in reading them be my guest.

I can understand that a lot of people might not entirely comprehend the emotions I will try to explain party because they perhaps never experienced them and partly because I probably won’t word them accurately enough but I will do the best I can.

The contents of the last episode of the Season 1 Bad Batch series have left me a little broken. I’m really trying to not get too emotional but the contents of this series have triggered some emotional trauma I’ve buried (as I’m sure it did for a lot of people, but I will be speaking only for myself here) – I’m not blaming the show in any way. I love the show. It’s because of its good writing and setting that this hurts so much.

Crosshair being left again is really upsetting to me for a lot of reasons. The gaping distance created by the Bad Batch and Crosshair is so hurtful. Earlier on in the show, after seeing the complete disregard for their brother, I thought that perhaps there is part of this narrative that we are missing. Maybe the relationship between them wasn’t as good as we thought. Maybe at some point during their upbringing or the numerous missions they’ve been on together these guys figured out they hate their brother. Or at least don’t care for him. Which would be enough of a reason for them to completely not hesitate to continue their lives without him. However what I cannot understand is – how can you leave him stranded on a platform on a planet that is just water, where the only building on that planet has been blown up minutes prior, without his weapon and backpack.

They practically left him for dead.

You don’t care about your brother and you don’t want him to be on your team? Fine. You can’t get past your differences and work together or have a healthy conversation about your differences in opinions? Understandable. But please explain to me how leaving him with no weapon on a absolutely deserted planet makes any sense? Even if the Empire does come back to look for him (which in my opinion is highly unlikely) what do you think they will do to him? The only Empirial teammate he had and was left alive saw him and snitched on him to Rampart. They gave the order to kill him alongside the other clones. They most likely will either kill him or experiment on him. Hunter knows this. He might not be certain exactly what’s going to happen but he for a fact knows the Empire will discard him - he said so to Crosshair on two occasions.

So now in my opinion is just a question of basic human decency to at least drop him somewhere - on another planet at least I don’t know.

For the people who think Crosshair was too rude to his brothers in the last episode and was making too snarky replies. First, it’s not news that Crosshair in general does that - since day one he has been sarcastic and borderline “rude”. Whether or not his brothers found that annoying or not is up to debate but at least in my opinion they didn’t seem too bothered by it. Ask anyone with siblings - bickering is part of the family relationship. Second, I don’t know if you ever encountered someone after a dramatic breakup (doesn’t matter if it’s a friendship or a romantic relationship) but his behavior was presented very accurately. Please try to imagine getting into a fight with someone you had years of build relationship, people who you deeply cared for and trusted, people you probably loved. You get into a fight, you fall out and don’t hear each other for some time. Now you have a lot of time for these emotions to brew inside you - you will mainly feel sadness. Why did this happen? Why are they not reaching out? They know you are in pain so why aren’t they trying to remedy things? Queue all of the moments you had together, all the good memories, all the emotions you’ve shared and how much you devoted yourself to them. Was it all fake? Did they feel the same? Then comes anger. How could they? How could you? Why did you let yourself be this vulnerable with someone? Why are they not trying to communicate with you? Don’t they hurt the same as you? This segment by the way opens up a whole other door of trust issues and thoughts that lead you to conclusions to never let yourself be this vulnerable with others or have any kind of deep emotions for anyone else but we are not going to tackle that. (Not to mention that until that point Crosshair was already presented as a very closed off character and probably the only people he truly felt comfortable with were his brothers but never mind that now.) So you are angry and sad. Unfortunately even with all that hurt you don’t stop loving this person/these people because it just doesn’t work like that. In fact it is so painful because you love them. Time passes and you finally meet and the first thing that it’s itching at your tongue is to tell them they have hurt you. Which Crosshair did - he explained they’ve left him even though they were brothers and in a way betrayed him. Then comes the desire to inflict pain back - it’s completely irrational because a part of you wants to patch things up but another just wants to get payback. To say something, anything, to hurt them. It’s erratic, childish - exactly what we can see from Crosshair in this last episode. He takes every opportunity to bite back. And honestly I can’t blame him. That’s a totally normal response. I would like to point out that in a way the batch does that too - they are not warm to him in any way either, which again is valid since from their point of view they also probably feel betrayed by him. Also, the fact that he doesn’t feel the need to physically harm them (even though as he said it would have been totally justifiable from his point of view) but just make a few snarky remarks? Yeah, I would let that slide.

Honorable mention to the fact that no one apologized .. for anything. Even a casual “sorry, we left you” or “sorry, we didn’t bother to come looking for you” - nothing. I think at this point no one was expecting for the batch to start dramatically confessing their feelings but just a plain apology would have been a great start. It just confuses me so much. Hunter said to Omega “I’m angry at myself. We don’t leave our own behind.” and yet couldn’t express a simple gesture of apology to him? It makes no sense to me. I know that not everyone is emotional. Not everyone can have or express strong feelings for another human being in a relationship. But the complete lack of interest from the batch since day 1 about what is happening with their brother is baffling to me.

I’m gonna say this once and there are probably going to be people out there who don’t get it and that’s fine but: If you deeply care about someone and love them you would want them to come back. Against all odds. In spite of what they say. You would dare do the impossible just for the off chance something, anything, works and you get to have them back.

The Batch went back to save Hunter. On Kamino. In a situation where, honestly, they were going to die if it wasn’t for Crosshairs decision to give them a chance. They were walking in outnumbered against a person who knew and could predict their every move. And they knew that but they had to try. No such thing at any point was shown for Crosshair. They didn’t even try to get to him at the end. The only one who did was Omega. And I’m willing to believe that if Hunter or whoever stepped in after her conversations with him he was perhaps going to crack but.. no one even tried.

I don’t want to seem like I hate the show or the other characters. Words cannot express how good this show is and how accurately it’s written (in my opinion) but it’s just hurtful. And I believe a lot of us Crosshair fans are hurt because we can empathize. I’m not living under the illusion that my opinion of Crosshair is going to change anyone else’s - this is not what I’m trying to do. This is my post, take it or leave it. I just had thoughts and wanted to lay them out. If you read through all of this, thank you for giving it your time.

#TBB #The Bad Batch #Bad Batch #Crosshair #Hunter #Tech #Echo #Wrecker #Omega #Star Wars #starwars #word vomit #I apologize I don't mean to attack anyone #these are just my feelings #might delete

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chuckaf · 3 years

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Chuck Fic Rec List: Updated

So my fic rec post was in my notifs again the other day, and I noticed a while back that the formatting on the post has gotten all messed up and it’s also had like three reblog additions to it anyway meaning there are three versions out there lol. so, I wanted to do another list of chuck fic recs! I’ll keep the other one up still, so I’m not gonna repeat every fic here, just some I really recommend. I’m also adding the fic summaries, which I didn’t on the old post, and some more of my own opinions so, buckle up for a long post!

Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles | Steampunk.Chuckster

1896. A world powered by steam, where humans and machines coexist, and airships are the fashionable mode of transport. The US Empire's deepest and darkest secrets arrive at Chuck Bartowski's doorstep. Have they fallen into the wrong hands? Or will the inventor prove his mettle, even while he's forced to hide from the very people he's protecting? AU, ongoing chronicle, Charah.

A genuinely incredible AU story, with an entire crafted world and universe, so detailed it frequently blows my mind. There is heart and family and infuriatingly brilliant slow-burn, plus a buttload of danger and super fun historical/steampunk action. Oh how I LOVE it.

Chuck vs the Charade | somedeepmystery

When computer nerd Chuck Bartowski returns home to an empty apartment and a dead girlfriend he finds himself embroiled in a deadly game of espionage and deceit. Everyone around him is playing a part to get what they want and when he starts falling for the new woman in his life, he can't help but wonder if he can trust her or if she's the one he should fear the most.

An action and twist-filled AU based on the movie Charade, which is just such a brilliant fic concept I absolutely adored it from the start.

Two Sides of the Same Coin | dettiot

When you're a spy, there's all kinds of occupational hazards when you work with another spy. For Sarah Walker, though, one mission becomes a life-changing experience. Because working with Charles Carmichael leads to protecting Chuck Bartowski.

The first time I read this fic my mind was just blown to its genius. Such a brilliant interpretation of what the Intersect and its concepts set up in the show could be, and ooooof the Chuck/Sarah interactions, my HEART. Related to it, its companion piece:

A Flip of the Coin | dettiot

What made Charles Carmichael agree to become Chuck Bartowski? Well, to start, it wasn't as much of a change as you'd think. A companion to the early chapters of Two Sides of the Same Coin from Carmichael's perspective.

Chuck vs The Butterfly Effect | n7agentbartowski

Chuck Bartowski is a normal guy who just hit rock bottom. No girlfriend, no career and no super computer stuck inside his head. It isn't until Chuck meets a gorgeous stranger on the beach that he begins to think his life is about to change for the better. An AU Chuck fic without the Intersect. "Change one thing and it changes everything."

I said it on the OG post, but this story has one of my top 5 Chuck/Sarah fic meetings. So funny, so... very Chuck. The story is a little angsty overall, but a great read.

Chuck vs the Rogue Spy | Crumby

When a rogue spy from Chuck Bartowski's past shows up to help him during his first solo mission, Chuck hopes that he'll finally find out what happened to Sarah Walker. Post-S2 AU.

There’s a lot of Season 3 fix-it fics out there, which I don’t usually read bc I actually love season 3 lol, but this one’s a good one! A twisty deviation from canon, but still feels really true to character.

Chuck Versus the Nerds Rewrite | Steampunk.Chuckster and David Carner

What happens when two nerds talk endless hours about their favorite TV show? A new take on the show you know, but with the flair, twists, and turns you've come to expect from Steampunk . Chuckster and david . carner. Somewhat canon. Charah.

As the summary says, a different take on the show, which honestly makes a couple changes I would too, but also adds a bunch of fun twists and plots that make it totally new and fresh. Seeing Chuck and Sarah’s thoughts in the more canon sections is just delicious, too.

The Trapped Assassin | SarahsSupplyCloset

After a mission goes awry, the CIA's most lethal assassin is ordered to take vacation while her superiors figure out what to do with her. But when she meets a disarming tourist, their immediate connection only adds to her disillusionment with the agency and her career. Will he be enough for her to finally take the plunge and leave the only life she's ever known? Charah AU

A warning for the very justified M rating if you don’t like that sort of thing, but this is definitely a plot-heavy fic, too. A really neat Sarah-heavy AU, with a whole lotta Chuck/Sarah fancy French vacationy goodness.

Chuck vs the Second Chance | malamoo

AU from mid-season 2 and onwards. Chuck and Sarah part ways only to be reunited years later. COMPLETE.

Literal, crying-at-my-screen angst. Not even a super happy ending. But a brilliantly written, part-reflective/flashback fic, exploring what would’ve happened if Chuck and Sarah’s relationship really was an assignment all along-- and the aftermath. It’s heartbreaking. But if you want a little heartbreak, this is your fic.

Ready at Your Hand | dettiot

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a Catholic plot against the queen comes to the attention of spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham. To protect Elizabeth, he develops an unusual plan: hide the passing of intelligence between two agents by a false romance. When Lady Sarah Walker and Chuck Carmichael meet, though, their pretend flirtation becomes much more.

I love Chuck fic for the very reason that it’s inspired such adventurous and totally unique AUs. Here’s some Elizabethan fake-dating Chuck and Sarah! They have to be so Proper, it’s like that hand moment from Pride and Prejudice but Elizabethan and times a billion. The pining!!

Sarah Versus Getting Married | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker is getting married. Canon. Charah.

I’d recommend all of SC’s fics if I had the room, and I’m already recommending a ton sksks but most of my fic recs are AUs, and this one isn’t! It’s canon, and covers some of in the gap in 4x24, with Sarah just before the wedding itself. Super sweet, heart-tugging, brilliant.

A Chuckmas Carol | Mikki13

A new twist to Dickens' beloved "A Christmas Carol". When Sarah begins to shut out the world around her, three spirits come to show her the error of her ways. Season 3 AU.

Another Season 3 AU, this one written pre-series so it definitely doesn’t fit to canon, but it’s still wonderfully rich in character depth and angst and it also made me cry. Plus, festive!

Chuck Versus Thin Ice | Steampunk.Chuckster

On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another. Charah AU.

Do you like curling? Or the Winter Olympics? It doesn’t really matter because somehow this fic made me extremely invested in both of those things, as well as Chuck and Sarah and them being INSUFFERABLE. Catch me now knowing a ton about curling thanks to this fic.

Walker’s Eleven | Moonlight Pilot

Not the same plot as the movie. Sarah Walker never got out of the con game or became a spy, and now she's on her final con. What happens when true love and betrayal get added to the mix? Twists, turns, and Jeffster!

Con!Sarah always interests me, and this fic is full of her. Lotta con plot, lotta Chuck and Sarah.

The Detective and the Tech Guy | thecharleses

Sarah Walker is a Pinkerton detective. Chuck Bartowski is an electronics genius. They wouldn't have met except for a case of mistaken identity and murder. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man film series. Formerly co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot, now ONLY Steampunk . Chuckster.

Everyone in this fic is so damn cool. There are so many martinis. But also great heart and family and like, standing up for who you love, and later also Chuck with Baby Clara content which frankly the show robbed us of. Also, PI!Sarah!!!

Gravity | Poetic4U

AU. Sarah makes a decision that altered her life forever.

This is just a one-shot, which many of these stories are not, so a good one if you don’t fancy a big read! Just because it’s short, though, doesn’t mean it’s lacking; a really awesome what-if AU, and heavy on the Chuck and Sarah.

A Yuletie Tale | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker was dumped the day before Christmas Eve, and her Plus One at her work’s annual Christmas Eve Soiree is now officially a Plus Zero. Her best friend Ellie Bartowski has a solution to her problem, and Sarah finds she isn’t quite as sure about it as Ellie is. AU Christmas Charah.

I’m particularly in love with this fic because, instead of beginning with a meet-cute, it involves Chuck and Sarah already two years into a friendship-- Sarah is Ellie’s best friend. And she’s been crushing harrrd on Ellie’s brother. Also Chuck is in a tux. It’s pretty.

Set, Spike, Dive! | Frea O’Scanlin

Chuck never expected to even make it to the Olympics. Everything is working against him: he's too tall for a diver, too inexperienced for a medal, too much of a wildcard to really make his mark. But an unexpected meeting at the airport, some intriguing new friends, and a whirlwind romance on the sand just might set up London 2012 as the time of Chuck Bartowski's life.

A London 2012 AU, because why not. This is just a fun Olympic-y ride!

OTP (One True Pairing) Prompts | David Carner

A series of Prompts I found online about different times and places in Chuck and Sarah's life. Mostly AU, mostly one-shots. I assume mostly fluff, but I might get deep. I doubt it, it's me. Charah...ALWAYS (It says complete, but if an idea strikes me...)

If you’re not so into long stories, this fic is perfect. Individual set-ups and stories, all Chuck and Sarah, and all super cute. You could dip in and out and just pick a scenario you enjoy.

Chuck vs The Frontier | ninjaVanish

AU: Chuck was enjoying a simple life as a 19th century watchmaker until an encounter with a beautiful Secret Service agent thrust him into a world of intrigue and adventure he never wanted. But then, with Agent Walker around, it can't be all bad, can it?

This fic gets props for being historically-set but still including the Intersect. Again, a historical AU, so the pining!! the need to be Proper!!! But besides all that, there’s a lot of action fun as well.

Chuck Versus The Crosswalk: Remastered | WvonB

Will a last minute mission help our two favorite characters finally get together? This is the remastered version of my first story.

The original version of this fic is on my first list; this is the updated version! It’s not a complete AU, instead a story that diverges from canon, so if you’re more into canon characters and setting than a new AU scenario, this is a great fic for that.

Little Girls, Paper Wreaths, and Choc Chip Cookies | DanaPAH

Very AU: Sarah Walker is a single mother whose Christmas spirit needs a boost after a tough divorce. She isn't quite ready to go looking for romance, but her little daughter's affection for their new neighbor may lure it right to her doorstep, anyway.

An incredibly sweet AU one-shot where Chuck and Sarah are new neighbours, and Sarah has a super cute little girl. So much sweetness and love and hope. I love this fic so much it literally led me to write my own neighbour-kid-AU, so, not to toot my own horn but I’ll link it here anyway.

May Your Walls Know Joy | halfachance

Looking for a fresh start after some tough times, Sarah and her three-year-old daughter move to LA. When they meet a sweet curly-haired nerd who lives next door, though, Sarah realizes they might just find more happiness than they'd ever imagined, if only her past doesn't catch up to her first. AU.

It’s what the summary says; if you wanna read, feel free!

Chuck vs the Sound of Music | quistie64

AU. Chuck, nerd extraordinaire, is a man with seven children and Sarah must protect them all from Fulcrum's evil designs. Warning: there will be singing.

I mean. Not much mystery as to the concept with that title and summary lol, but this is a super fun, soft ride with a lotta sweetness, and yes, singing.

Just Two People | David Carner

Meet Sarah Walker PhD, Psychologist, specializing in personality traits. Meet Chuck Bartowski, man who has left THE electronic company of 2020. When Burton Consultants tries to figure out what is wrong with the morale of Orion Industries, what happens when a guy named Chuck meets a woman named Sarah. I'll give you a hint, it's me writing.

David’s done something pretty special with this fic. It’s Chuck and Sarah centric, but very much an ensemble piece, too, with a lot of Team Bartowski and other familiar faces throughout.

Chuck Versus the Con Game | Steampunk.Chuckster

AU. Chuck and Sarah are partners in the con game. It's an existence wrought with danger and violence. Every day could be their last. Every mission could be the end of the line.

This is where I freak out SC and declare this fic the reason I ever got hooked on Chuck fic and then wrote Chuck fic, and the reason I still love it today but. that is true lol. Just so. so good. It’s also written with the chapters out of chronological order, which is super fun from a reading perspective. But con!Sarah AND con!Chuck?? Best. The kind of fic you will be thinking about for days (if not, y’know, years).

As you can tell by the repeats, I highly recommend just about anything by Steampunk.Chuckster, dettiot, or David Carner, but there are a TON of amazing Chuck fics and authors out there. I’ve never known a writing community so wildly creative-- there are so many unique AUs and canon explorations and story concepts that this show has manifested, and it’s all so much fun.

Most of the Chuck fic community is still over on FFN rather than AO3, so if any of these whet your appetite, feel free to have a browse there for more stories. I’m sure you’ll find something great. Personally, all the incredible writing there has also led me to write a buttload; I’m at halfachance on FFN, so if you see any of my stuff or wanna chat fic, feel free to message me there or here.

Happy reading, folks!

#chuck #fic rec #chuck fic #nbcchuck #praying if i edit this to add to it or i reblog it to add to it all the links stay and the line breaks don't disappear sksks #the old one still looks okay on desktop but it's messed up on the app and on mobile and it's just all generally messy #so i've been wanting to make this for aaages lol yay to finally doing something! woo!

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foulcrownkryptonite · 3 years

Text

The Man He Loved

Erwin x Levi

Levi disagrees with Erwin’s plan and confronts him after a meeting with the Scouts.

3.4K words

Content Warnings: swearing, bursts of anger, general meanness before the cavity inducing fluff comes into play :)

Levi sat quietly, arms crossed and eyes scanning each of the Scouts as Erwin laid out this coming mission's details. It was late and everyone was past the brink of exhaustion, but this meeting was unfortunately urgent. Eren and Historia… Those damned Internal Police lackies will stop at nothing to get their filthy hands on the two kids. And with the influence they have, their chance at success is more than possible. There was no time to waste. What they needed was a plan of action, an infallible one, at that.

“We still have many uncertainties about the titans and what the Beast titan’s plans are…” Erwin continued. “But keeping Eren and Historia safe is of the utmost priority. Humanity will fall if the Internal Police get their hands on them. In two days' time, we’ll need to devise a distraction.” Distraction? Levi swiftly side eyed Erwin as he continued his disquisition, his prominent features set in dedication. Why doesn't he tell me these things beforehand...

“Jean, you’ll pretend to be Eren and-“ Erwin was cut off by Jean’s groans.

“Huh? I look nothing like that brat. Clearly I’m far more handsome. They’ll think he suddenly became a model and Eren does not deserve that reputation.” Jean quickly retorted. Despite being crudely cut off, Erwin’s eyes remained weighted and unmoving. The stretch of silence that followed elicited an ugly snort from Conny, earning a poorly contained laugh from Sasha and a silencing glare from Mikasa. Once the punishing eyes moved to Jean, he quickly shut his trap and slunk in his chair, a curse being muttered under his breath. Are these damn brats capable of a single serious meeting? Levi scoffed to himself as Erwin resumed.

“As I was saying,” Jean somehow receded further into himself. “Armin will play Historia.”. Armin nodded, knowing there’s no saying no to the commander in this state. “I’ll lead the distraction as I’m perfectly fine with playing bait. They want me too, but that’s not important.” he went on. At this, Levi's jaw tightened. Not important?! They’ll kill you. What is he-

“Don’t worry, as this will not be for another week. The news of us hiding out won’t get to them for a short while.” Erwin concluded, standing up in his chair. Before he could finish his brief remarks, the scouts eagerly stood to attention. “Very well, that is all for tonight. Get some rest, Scouts. You’ve done good work. If there are any questions, feel free to ask. But for now, seek your sleep.” And with those words of finality, he receded back into his seat, the phantom pains in his arm ebbing and flowing as they usually did. Erwin never talked about it, but Levi could tell when it was bothering the commander. His eyebrows would furrow slightly, followed by a look of realization then poignancy. Whether he really wanted to or not, Levi always noticed these little changes in the man.

Hange let out a big yawn, waiting as everyone else quietly left the room. That is to say, everyone besides Conny, Sasha and Jean, those loud fucks. Levi instantly began mentally reciting what Erwin had previously said. Distraction my ass… Hange kicked up their feet onto the coffee table, expecting the usual post-meeting chat between the three of them. “Eyy I’m pooped, how about a-“

“Hange.” Levi said plainly.

“Eh?”

“Not today.”

“Alright… then why don’t we-“

“Not. Today.” Levi snapped, uncrossing his legs to stand. “Leave.”

Hange rolled their eyes, used to and unthreatened by Levi’s usual ire. “Whatever, I’ll just go party somewhere else then.” They stood too, walking toward the door. “You two buzzkills have a goodnight~!” They sang sweetly before sauntering out in an exaggerated confidence. Levi sighed before going to the door and locking it. Erwin just watched, unamused and unsurprised by his behavior. Levi leaned against the locked door and put his hands on his hips.

“So, a suicide mission? That’s your master plan?” he said coldly, grey eyes meeting blue in an unfriendly gaze. Erwin kept his lips sealed with silence, knowing full well the man across him had a lot more to say. “Tch, silent treatment too? Why don’t you tell me these things? Did you hit your head on the field before losing your arm?” He taunted, attempting to coax the tall man into talking.

Erwin’s eyes darkened just slightly. He really wasn’t in the mood to bicker with Levi. His plan was practically foolproof, Levi just wasn’t thinking rationally. His arm hurt and he longed for a good night's rest, not wanting to be barked at by the man standing across from him. Truthfully, he was tuning most of what he said out. Just let him ramble until he’s satisfied.

Levi stomped his boot on the door, causing it to judder in return. “You’re not even LISTENING. Oi, shit-for-brains, talk to me like a man and stop wallowing in your suicidal self pity. What the fuck are you thinking?”

Erwin took a steady breath, composing himself before finally speaking. “Is this really about the mission, Levi?” He was met with cold icy eyes set in a dead glare. This really isn’t what he wanted to do right now. “Y'know what, nevermind. I don’t wanna hear it tonight.” he dismissed.

Levi was beyond irked. “Eh- what are you even saying? Damn, that titan really did scramble your head. Do I need to spell it out for ya? Write on little cards so you can relearn your ABC’s? Eh?! You’ve gone mad. This is stupid-“

Erwin lifted his hand up to silence him. “You don’t have to agree. By all means, yell at me. But this doesn’t change my plan.” He lowered his hand and looked him in the eyes, his mind tired and begging for rest.

Levi could feel his face darkening into a prominent scowl. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this… Your self righteous fantasies of being the humble hero are clouding your judgement. Pride? Heroism? That’s just some bullshit excuse, Erwin. You aren’t expendable. Killing yourself now isn’t going to help anyone. It’s not going to fix anything.” He spat, poison dripping from each word as his gaze remained locked on target. Erwin eyed him in return, eyes growing darker with each passing second. A tense silence stretched between them.

Levi sighed before starting again.

“We need that damn head of yours if we want to have any chance of a future, so quit being a baby and let’s figure out some other plan.” He reasoned, hoping these words would make his commander understand where this bout of anger came from.

Erwin sat silent for a moment, contemplating his words and filtering them with his usual routine of rationality and logic. What was Levi’s goal here? It is putting his own life in danger, not Levi’s. Unless the issue was that fact itself...

“Levi…” He began calmly, his assuring tone of voice encouraging Levi to calm himself. “I recognize how you feel, but you must see the bigger picture. You need to understand, I am replaceable, Eren and Historia are not.“

Levi instinctively tensed again, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, and knowing full well he wouldn’t like whatever Erwin would say next. “This mission is above me - above us. It’s our best option. We don’t have the luxury to achieve results without sacrifice, or at least without the risk thereof. I have abandoned many soldiers in the past, and to cower when that chance weighs on myself is unbecoming of a commander. I did not call a meeting tonight to discuss, but rather to inform. This is the plan, Levi. And frankly? I do not wish to speak about it further. That is all.” Erwin languidly finished, his usual punctuality succumbing to a tired dejection.

Levi realized then. He wasn’t speaking to Erwin, the man whom he trusted and dedicated his life to. Levi wasn’t speaking to the one who dragged him out of that shitty dump of a home and into the Survey Corps; He wasn’t here with the man who made badly timed jokes Levi could only roll his eyes at, nor the captain who suddenly took an interest in cleanliness upon Levi’s arrival, nor the friend who kindly lent Levi a shoulder and a warm cup of tea following his squad's extinction. This was not that man. Levi was stood in front of the Commander of the Survey Corps. An artificial hero who’d rid himself of his humanities in the name of freedom, eager to sacrifice what he must for the prosperity of the future. Erwin looked at Levi from behind that old table as if it were a wall of its own, made not for keeping titans out, but for imprisoning the man Levi knew him to be within.

A heroic façade. A selfless demeanor. That is what Erwin has chosen to be.

Bullshit. Absolute fucking BULLSHIT. There are at least a thousand ways out of this mess, why the hell is he so set on risking himself? An unbridled rage swiftly lifted Levi off the back of the door, boots stomping up towards the tired man in front of him. Levi seethed. He won't let Erwin succumb to whatever dumbass funk he seems to be in. He crossed his arms and scowled, voice biting and unsympathetic. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to give up under the ruse of heroism cause you don't feel well? Because you lost your fucking arm to some ugly ass titan?”

Erwin glare was maddening, something that would make any other soul cower in fear, yet it only fueled his own vehemence. He’s not going to let Erwin walk away from this. “Tch. And to think I’d thought so highly of you... Go on then. If this is really what you want, go and die a coward's meaningless death.” The air hung heavy as they stared each other down. Silence, tense uncomfortable silence and shit ok maybe Levi had gone a bit too fa-

BANG. His hand hit the desk hard, the sound of Erwin's arm slamming the old wood echoing harshly off the cold stone walls. He was standing now, chair forgotten and fallen behind him. The look on his face made Levi’s heart catch in his throat, a dry lump forming as Erwin's eyes bore menacingly into him. His small figure felt diminutive as Erwin’s chest heaved with ferocity, before finally cracking with pure fury. “You dare tell me what I can or cannot do with my own life? Who the fuck do you think you are? I am your superior officer before I am your friend and I will not take this shit from you!”

Levi went cold, backing once more into the door as far as he could, gripping the handle for support, or perhaps a possible escape. He’s never seen Erwin snap like this and to see this eruption in him… It petrified him. “Well, now who’s the coward?” He said maddeningly, kicking the discarded chair further into the corner which sent Levi’s fight or flight into overdrive. Erwin towered over him, his hand slamming against the door a good two feet above Levi’s head. When did he get so damn close?

Levi opened his mouth, but could produce no sound. He was scared. This wasn’t Erwin. A primal rage had overtaken him and Levi could see it in the way his eyes oozed with hostility, in the way his astute demeanor had morphed into that of a feral beast’s. Taking a chance, Levi took a breath. “Erwin…” he whispered carefully, like a cornered animal trying to negotiate with its prey. Erwin’s eyes flashed with an indescribable something. He dropped his hand.

“Fuck,” he cursed, putting his hand to his head and wobbling backward before facing Levi again.

“Fuck, Levi, I’m…” he began. Once again, Levi was experiencing a new side of Erwin, a common theme tonight. “You…” He paused, collecting his words and continuing. “You need to understand exactly what it is I’m trying to say. It’s my life and you said it yourself earlier, I’m as good as dead. This arm… How exactly am I supposed to fight like this?” It was barely audible, but Levi picked up a slight crack to his voice. Infuriated Erwin was shocking to see, but this completely foreign vulnerability was something else. The two had been rather close, but nothing quite like this. It was jarring, but not at all bad.

Before Levi could say anything in return, Erwin continued, voice almost hushed and pleading. “Eren is the key to saving humanity and you damn right know it. If I can just lead the charge-“ he was cut off by Levi swiftly grabbing hold of his hand. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, some innermost part of him doing the decision making here. The action terrified the both of them, but it was a sign of comfort and that’s all Erwin needed. Besides, it stopped him from spouting more nonsense… So that's good, right?

Noticing the slightest squeeze of his hand in return, Levi found the words he wanted to say. Needed to say. “You know I didn’t mean that. I won’t let you die out there, Erwin. We need you…” his voice grew soft before he carried on. “I need you… So I won’t let you just throw yourself away, dumbass.” Ok now he really didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. The air was stiff as Erwin only stared down at him, and Levi directed his eyes back to the discarded chair. Anything really to distract himself from Erwin’s wide eyed stare. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t Erwin saying anything? He had made it worse. Fuck.

“I- um I’m I’ll just, I’ll just-“ Levi stammered, earnestly fumbling with the doorknob to leave. Bad choice. Bad night. Time to go. Erwin promptly grabbed Levi’s arm and pulled him closer, until he was flush with the broad surface of his chest. Levi’s face burned due to the proximity, and as Erwin snaked his arm around his middle, his dreaded blush only deepened. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands, he mirrored Erwin’s own actions, enclosing the embrace and- Oh. This is nice. Feeling Levi’s arms wrap around him, Erwin took the initiative to bend down, lowering his head to rest atop Levi’s shoulder.

“I need you too... More than anything” he breathed softly into Levi’s jacket.

Levi had never been one for flattery or sugared words. Lies only beget other lies and Levi valued honesty and definiteness. But this… This was something entirely different. Erwin’s voice was barely above a whisper, purely unguarded and emotive. This wasn’t some false declaration to earn his sympathy, but rather raw feeling, something Levi is not used to having directed at himself.

The tears came before rational thought could beat them, and Erwin deepened the hug in response. The two didn’t say a word as they stood and kept their embrace, never wanting to let go. It was then that he realized Erwin was shaking slightly, tears falling from the man in his arms as well. Levi gripped tighter onto him, his cloak bunching up into his fingers as he held on perhaps harder than need be. Levi wouldn’t normally indulge himself in such juvenile behavior, but he supposed, at least for tonight, he didn’t want to hold himself back.

Erwin’s calloused hand slowly crept its way to Levi’s neck, causing him to shiver. Unsure if this reaction was a positive one, the taller man froze. Levi understood this fearful body language and strengthened the hug, signaling it was ok. Taking this in, Erwin began to rub gentle circles on the back of Levi’s neck, causing him to stir and the fine hairs on his neck to stand. They’ve never touched, not like this. Neither dared to speak, each fearing it would end this blissful spell.

Returning the intimate gesture, Levi began to softly move the palm of his hand along Erwin’s back. Levi wasn’t a touchy-feely person - or, so he thought because being touched like this… He could truly die right here. And that would be ok.

Erwin rotated his head so he was facing the crook of Levi’s neck, and Levi shuddered as he felt Erwin’s hot, shaky breath. This in turn made Erwin nervous. What are we doing? I shouldn’t be-

Levi snaked a hand up to the base of Erwin’s neck and began to tenderly run his fingers through his hair. Erwin took this as complete reassurance that yeah, this was ok. And Levi was ok with it too. Nerves were high as Levi gripped the man’s shirt, wanting to cling to him in silence forever.

Craving his touch, Levi bent his head to face Erwin’s. Erwin noticed the sudden change in movement and opened his eyes to see Levi staring right back at him. He pulled his head back ever so slightly, ensuring he was properly facing Levi. He searched his steel eyes and found only warmth. Still, not a word was said as they got even closer, noses just barely grazing each other before finally-

Unexpectedly, a jarring thud came from outside the door. This was promptly followed by a distant “I’m ok!”. Being so caught up in the moment, Erwin jumped, his heart racing and a mess as he lifted away from Levi. He muttered a curse word before being forced to talk about what just happened between the two men.

Levi just stood there, the sudden lack of intimacy making him realize exactly what had just happened. Feeling damn near faint, he sat on the couch closest to the warm fire and Erwin followed suit, placing his hand on the cushiony surface as he glanced at the visibly nervous Levi.

Erwin reached over and grabbed Levi’s hand causing Levi to meet his gaze. “Is this ok?” He asked gingerly. Levi’s expression softened as he put his other hand on top of his. “Yeah, this is ok”. They sat like that for a moment, deep breaths filling the silence.

“At least let me come with you,” Levi said hurriedly, and Erwin’s eyes grew wide. “Levi…” He began, moving his hand to cup his cheek. Levi leaned into his touch, body settling as he listened to Erwin. “Levi, when have I ever excluded you from a mission? We're doing this together…” he pulled Levi’s face closer to his as Levi put a hand to the man’s chest.

“Together.” Levi repeated before Erwin sealed the space between them with a feather-light kiss, still not wanting to scare the shorter man away. But Levi’s return to the kiss was immediate and desperate, once again wanting to be close to the man he’d admired for years. The man he… Fuck it, the man he loved. Being held like this, being needed like this, needing him in return, it all felt so familiar despite how foreign it really was.

It was like home. Not the putrid and disgustingly cluttered underground, but rather the sentiment of it all. Being in Erwin's embrace, he thought of Farlan and Isabel, his dedication and her compassion. He thought of the ever rowdy scouts, of Hange, of the feeling of Erwin’s lips against his: that was a big one.

Levi wasn’t sure where this mission would take them, or where any of their upcoming escapades would lead them. But he was sure of one thing, as long as he was at this man’s side, his warm eyes meeting his own, he could bear it. No... They could bear it. Erwin pulled away from his lips for what felt like the tenth time this night. Grey eyes met blue, and for the first time in what had felt like years, Levi felt himself fully smiling back.

That night, perched in that dimly lit safe house on a tawny old couch, was theirs and theirs alone, forever to be looked back upon fondly. They were safe. And most importantly, they were each other’s.

“SASHA HOLY SHIT ARE YOU SEEING THIS!”

“CONNY SHUT UP!”

“MMPH!”

And most importantly, Levi had a couple of brats to silence.

#attack on titan #aot #levi #levi ackermann #erwinsmith #eruri #eruri feels #eruri comfort #erwin x levi #levi x erwin #fluff #hurt and comfort #our first ever fic #please be gentle with us #lmao

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hxneyandespressx · 3 years

Text

if i were a man (i’d be the man)

summary: jj holds a press conference while on a high-profile case. she has to deal with the stupid male reporters. after the conference is done, jj goes to the nearest bathroom, away from the crowd, and screams and swears to her heart’s content

word count: 6.2k

content warnings: mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, guns, violence, blood, suicide

a/n: inspiration for this fic is from criminal minds season 4 episode 16 “pleasure is my business”

☆。*。☆。

It was a rough start to a Wednesday morning for a particular FBI agent. She almost twisted her ankle on her early morning jog, got stuck in traffic, and had to wait in a long line for her co-workers’ coffee orders. Soon enough, she started to wish that she took the metro instead. Media communications liaison Jennifer “JJ” Jareau woke up today and chose violence. She huffed in frustration at how her morning went.

Walking toward the bullpen with the coffee orders in her hands, JJ was greeted with “hellos” and “good mornings”. Not wanting to have her co-workers profile her, JJ bottled up her frustration and grumpiness and put a smile on her face. It was a rule amongst the group to never profile each other. With learning an assortment of profiling tactics, JJ knew how to form a realistic smile without genuine happiness. Creases around the eyes, smile lines contoured the mouth, sparkles in her baby blue eyes. The short blonde perfected the fake smile that could fool anyone, even expert profilers.

“Good morning, guys.” JJ said with a bright smile on her face. She held two cardboard trays filled with various coffee orders. She placed one of the trays on Emily’s desk, so she can pass out the orders to her co-workers. She called out the order name as she passed the cup to the person.

“One French vanilla latte for Ms. Garcia. Two black coffees for Emily and Derek. And finally, a coffee with extra cream and sugar for Spence.” Everyone said their thank you’s to the blonde. Then, there was one coffee cup left. A cappuccino.

“Happy Wednesday, my nerds.” Rossi said as he approached the group of tired agents. JJ smiled and handed the cappuccino to the elderly man.

“Grazie.” He thanked the media liaison for her efforts to bring his favorite morning beverage. The group spent some time chatting nonsense before the case briefing. Thirty minutes went by and all of them disbursed into their desks to finish up the paperwork. JJ headed down to her office to work on choosing the next case after the one that was currently ongoing.

After settling in her office chair, JJ took a look around her office. Messy stacks of pending files scattered her desk. Empty coffee cups and water bottles lined the file cabinet. JJ checked the time on her watch. 8:12 AM. About two hours to kill. The blonde put her hair up into a ponytail and took in a deep breath. She dove into the nearest pile of manila files, looking through all the documents and photographs to determine which case for the BAU team to take on after the current case.

As the clock ticked closer to 10 AM, JJ picked up today’s case files and head out of her office. Strutting through the bullpen, JJ entered the briefing room slightly out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” JJ said while passing the manila folders out to her co-workers. After handing out the necessary materials, she grabbed the remote from the center of the wooden table.

“Sam Winchester was found in Fulton Park, in the Stuyvesant Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Eighteen stab wounds to his chest and neck,” JJ explained as she clicked on the remote to switch between the crime scene photos. “He is one of the victims dumped at various locations of Brooklyn that was found last night.”

“Hold up. One of the victims?” Derek asked.

“Yeah. So far this killer built up a rep sheet of five kills.” JJ stated. Hotch raised one of his eyebrows at the new information.

“Seven? Why haven’t the NYPD notified us immediately after the first three kills?” Hotch asked the media liaison.

“Probably the department thought they could handle the crimes,” JJ explained. “That was the case until they realized that they needed help.”

The young blonde switched to the next slide, showing one of the other victims dumped in North Williamsburg.

“What’s interesting about the locations is that the first victim was drowned in the Hudson River. And as more victims appear, the disposal methods get more dramatic. Maybe it plays some role in the unsub’s pathology.” Spencer said as he looked at the screen, observing for any patterns.

“Like with one of the recent victims, the disposal site is in Cobble Hill. It’s typically occupied by those who are relatively wealthy.” Rossi said to continue Spencer’s thoughts. “This unsub is getting bolder with his disposal sites. I’m concerned with there being an end game to this.” Emily stated. Everyone at the round table shifted through the various crime scene photos and documents. Rossi took hold of one of the crime scene photographs: a reversed ten of cups tarot card. “It is also apparent that the unsub is leaving tarot cards at the scene of the crime.”

“Tarot cards? What’s the significance?” Derek asked.

“Maybe to tell of the inevitable fortune the victims faced?” Emily said.

“Well, each card has a different meaning when it is upright and reversed. And usually, when doing a reading, three to five cards are pulled to tell a fortune.” Penelope explained as she typed away on her work laptop. It had not surprised anyone that the technical analyst had an interest in tarot readings and astrology.

“You know, the first documented tarot packs were recorded between 1440 and 1450 AD in Milan, Ferrara, Florence, and Bologna when additional trump cards with allegorical illustrations were added to the common four-suit pack. These new decks were called carte da trionfi, triumph cards, and the additional cards are known simply as trionfi, which became "trumps" in English. The oldest surviving tarot cards are the 15 Visconti-Sforza tarot decks painted in the mid-15th century for the rulers of the Duchy of Milan. The Duke of Milan described a 60-card deck with 16 cards having images of the Roman gods and suits depicting four kinds of birds.” Spencer talked about the history of tarot cards, with hand gestures to accompany his little ramble. When he finished, everyone at the table stared at him. The young FBI agents sheepishly smiled as Emily poked his left cheek.

“Since when did you learn about tarot cards?” Emily asked.

“I learned about it when I took a college course on the Italian Renaissance.” Spencer sheepishly smiled.

“Well, whatever it is, it seems like there is a story to be told––or rather to be heard.” JJ said as she stared at the crime scene photos, her eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment.

“That’s what we need to find out. Wheels up in 20.” Hotch called out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The BAU members sat comfortably on the jet, each in their little world. That was until the unit chief called on everyone for a case discussion.

“Let’s go over victimology.” Hotch said to call on the group. Everyone moved closer to the unit chief to better discuss the case. Derek sat in an armchair, with Emily next to him. Across from them were Spencer and JJ. Hotch leaned against one of the seats, practically sitting on the adjustable arm of the plane seat. Rossi sat on the tan velvet couch, adjacent to JJ.

“Reid.” Hotch called on the genius of the group.

“White. Male. Between the ages of 45-55. Jobs ranging from a stockbroker to assets protection manager. All of them have cheated on their wives multiple times and some even had sexual harassment accusations.” The young curly-haired man said to start the discussion.

“Even if these men cheated on their wives and got those accusations, they still didn’t deserve the multiple stab wounds to meet their end.” Emily said.

JJ looked through the case file to see the reports on all five victims.

“The victims’ names are Igor Andreevich, Lucas Duncan, Hunter Mcevoy, Sam Winchester, Jared Kalinski.” JJ called the names out like it was a roll call.

“These are the five victims that this unsub killed so far?” Hotch asked. The blonde nodded her head and said “yes, sir” in response.

“As the victim count increased, the more stab wounds appeared on the body.” Rossi said to point out an observation.

“But the M.E. said that most of these stab wounds were created post mortem. Meaning that the initial stab was to get the job done efficiently and he went back in to fuel his rage and/or sexual needs.” Spencer

“Are we assuming his sexual orientation? Because there aren’t many homosexual serial killers, kid” Rossi said.

“It could be a possibility. We have to consider our options.” Hotch said.

Just then, the laptop turned on and showed the beautiful Penelope Garcia.

“How’s it going, my crime-fighting musketeers?” Penelope asked. Everyone, even Hotch, smiled at her cheery greeting.

“Garcia, start compiling files on each of our victims,” Hotch told the technical analyst. “Everything financial and personal. Bank statements, credit card bills, investments, wills, trust funds. Anything that will tell us more about the victim’s lives.”

“Faster than a Hotch rocket.” After that was said into the air, Penelope felt embarrassed while Hotch looked at her with his usual stone-cold face. Derek sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his second-hand embarrassment for his babygirl.

To break the silence, Rossi grunted and coughed into his fist.

“Based on the jobs these men had, we could safely assume that they were killed in the financial district of New York. Then, the unsub transported the bodies to a dumpsite.” Emily said as she read off from the case file in her hands.

“But why from Manhattan to Brooklyn? That is a lot of weight to carry.” Derek asked.

“Maybe Brooklyn holds a lot of significance to him. Something from his childhood and he can’t let go.” JJ said. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement as they all closed their files.

“Once we land, do you want me to get in contact with the media to inform the public?” The media liaison asked the unit chief.

“No. We need to hold back on it. Giving him the media’s attention is exactly what he wants. He wants his story to be heard and we will not give him that.” Hotch explained. JJ nodded in response and wrote down media concerns in her small blue notepad.

“Dave, You and Prentiss go to the crime scene,” Hotch instructed the group. “The rest of us will get up to speed at the precinct.” Everyone nodded in agreement with the unit chief.

After discussing the victimology and the nature of the case, everyone separated and occupied their own space on the jet. Derek on the couch, listening to music. Spencer by the window, reading the Hound of the Baskervilles. Rossi and Hotch in the back, conversing whatever two elderly men talk about.

The blonde media liaison stared out of the window until she felt a presence next to her. She looked away to find Emily standing in the aisle with a cup of coffee and a bag of Cheetos in her hands.

“Want some company?” Emily asked as she took the empty seat.

“I don’t mind at all.” JJ smiled at the brunette. The shorter woman felt special that Emily did this for her. She took the Cheetos and the coffee mug from her co-worker. As she grabbed them, their fingers brushed against each other. A little pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks. Not wanting Emily to know about the silly crush the blonde had on her, JJ covered half her face with her beloved blue blanket. Emily chuckled at JJ’s actions and placed her hand on the blonde’s right shoulder, closing her eyes for a quick nap.

JJ carefully took some of her dark blue blanket and wrapped it around Emily’s right shoulder. She looked at the brunette who was sleeping on her shoulder and softly smiled.

The blonde took sips of the coffee as she stared out of the window. The sunlight bounced off the water particles in the clouds, creating a mini rainbow over the tops of the white clouds. The media liaison took in the silence as a treat, before landing into the chaos of New York.

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A government-mandated black SUV arrived at the 25th precinct. Everyone––sans Emily and Rossi––got out of the car and was greeted by a lively short woman.

“Detective Miller? We spoke on the phone.” JJ shook hands with the short woman.

“Please, call me Kennedy. Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem. These are agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Doctor Reid.” JJ introduced them while gesturing at the person, in respective order.

“Hey, why don't you go on inside and make yourself comfortable.” Kennedy said. The remaining BAU members nodded their heads and made their way inside the busy precinct. Police officers swarmed everywhere as the federal agents weaved their way to an empty conference room.

Everyone worked at a swift pace to get everything set up. JJ and Derek went with a police officer to get boxes filled with case files and other materials. Hotch talked with Detective Miller to get information on how her officers dealt with the unsub so far. While all this is happening, Spencer worked on the geographical profile, so the agents know where to look for the unsub.

“What do these tarot cards mean?” Hotch asked the group. Everyone shook their head “no”, signifying that they had no clue what each card meant.

“I’ll call Penelope and ask her about the meanings of the cards.” Derek said as he took out his flip phone to dial Penelope’s number.

“Live from Quantico, Virginia, it is the Divine Miss Penelope.” Penelope greeted the group.

“Hey, sugar mama. I need something from you.” Derek said.

“Talk to me.”

“I need you to interpret the meanings of the tarot cards that were left at the different crime scenes.”

“Ah- I’ll be your little witch today. Hit me with have you have.”

“Alright, I’m putting you on speaker.” Derek puts down the phone on the wooden table, so everyone could hear what the technical analyst has to say.

“Ten of Cups, Garcia.” Hotch said.

“When upright, the Ten of Cups embody happiness, joy, contentment, and emotional satisfaction in your family, relationship, or companion. It represents an idyllic state of comfort, harmony, peace, and love which makes you feel like you are in paradise. When reversed, it could mean shattered dreams, disharmony, or a broken family.” Penelope explained.

“Reversed Wheel of Fortune card.” Spencer called out.

“When the wheel is reversed, it means that luck has not been on your side and misfortunes have been following you. When it's associated with this card, you must understand that these are due to external influences that you cannot control.” Penelope said.

“Reversed Justice card.” Derek said next.

“A reversed Justice tarot card could indicate various things. One Justice reversal meaning is to show you are living in denial. You are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions or others. You are running from your guilt. You must, however, be aware that these are actions that are in the past. Other Justice reversal meanings could be injustice, retribution, dishonesty, corruption, dishonesty, unfairness, and avoiding accountability.” The technical analyst interpreted.

“Lastly, the reversed Emperor.” JJ said the final card they had.

“The Emperor reversed is a sign of abused authoritative power. In your social life, it can manifest in the overreach of power from a father figure or a possessive partner.” Penelope described the final tarot card.

With all the information in their heads, the BAU members felt puzzled about how to move forward.

“How are these cards related to the crime scenes?” Derek asked.

“It’s like a performance,” Penelope chimed in. Everyone turned their heads to listen to the cheery woman on the phone. “Like there is a story behind these killings. The cards are telling how the unsub is feeling. She wants us to know her story.” Everyone stood in shock when Penelope made a breakthrough in the case.

“Wait, Garcia. You said ‘she’. Why do you think it is a woman?” Hotch asked.

“Well, sir. The first victim was drowned, with no signs of sexual assault on his body. Doesn’t that usually indicate that the unsub is a woman?”

“Not necessarily but it is a quiet and efficient way of murdering someone.” Hotch explained.

“Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don’t have much information on them. But what we do know involves throwing the riles completely out of the window,” Spencer started going on one of his rambles. “For example, female serial killers typically don’t leave a signature.”

“But this one leaves tarot cards at the scene.” Derek pointed out.

“Maybe it was what Garcia said: she’s telling us her story.” JJ said. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning. What could be inferenced from her childhood?” Hotch asked.

“She could have had a domineering father who worked on Wall Street. And with that dynamic, he could have sexually and emotionally abused her, making her feeling like damaged goods.” Spencer explained the backstory of the unsub. “Also because the victims cheated on their wives, we could also conclude that the father also cheated on the mother, who always forgave her husband and tried to rationalize to stay for her daughter. And that made the unsub feel rage and being inferior. That she didn’t do anything to help her mother and herself.”

“But there is no indication of sexual gratification.” Hotch interjected.

“However, there’s a reason why there are so many lacerations on the later victims. It could be the rage from her abusive father that this unsub is using against the victims, who acted like surrogates.” Derek said.

“The stressor?” Hotch asked.

“To follow her father’s footsteps, she may have also worked in the financial field. As a stockbroker, a financial analyst, or even as a secretary for a company,” Spencer said. “And as she continued at her job, she had a bunch of little comments and slights against her”

“As for the trigger, maybe she got passed up for a promotion by a male co-worker who was less qualified than she was.” JJ explained.

“Any sane person would get miffed about it, but she’s built differently,” Derek said.

“So much so, she killed five men so far.” Hotch said.

“And she did it in an efficient manner where no one had any idea until now,” Derek said right after the unit chief. “But how did one woman kill five men in one borough and disposed of them in another?”

“She must know the area like the back of her hand. Brooklyn is what? Around 72 square miles?” JJ said in response to Derek.

“Uh, 69.5.” Spencer corrected JJ. The blonde sighed, not surprised that the boy genius would know the exact measurement.

“And the fact that no one has seen her either abduct or dispose of says she knows the city and its patterns well.” Derek said to continue what JJ had said before she was cut off by the boy genius. Just then, both Rossi and Emily had returned from the latest crime scene. In Emily’s hands were coffee cups on cardboard trays while Rossi had Chinese takeout. Everyone shared the food as they continued to work on the case. Being the little tease he was, Derek flung a wonton piece at Spencer, who was struggling to eat with the wooden chopsticks. The wonton piece gently hit Spencer’s forehead and the boy genius pouted, hiding his frustration at both the chopsticks and Derek.

“The M.E. said that the cuts were clean, no serrated edges. It would have to be a very sharp knife to be able to cut through human skin like nothing.” Emily said, to drive the discussion about the M.O.

“A knife like that could get the job done efficiently. Could be the work of a throwing knife. Take out the victim with a single throw to have them die quickly, then she stabs them to feel something.” Derek said.

“Throwing knives? What is she? A secret agent of the Dai Li?” Rossi joked sarcastically.

“From Avatar the Last Airbender?” Hotch retorted, remembering that his son Jack watches that show on Saturday mornings.

“What’s Avatar the Last Airbender?” Spencer asked. Nobody bothered to answer the young man’s question.

“But this one is different. It’s like the more she kills, the more anger builds up inside and it gets released on the victim when she goes back in.” JJ stated.

It became silent in the conference room, quite the opposite to the noise of the New York precinct in the evening rush hour. Tired from both traveling and working, Hotch could see that the rest of his team was also exhausted from the day. The unit chief called everyone to head to the hotel and rest, as they can always come back to the precinct tomorrow morning.

Slowly one by one, each of the agents packed their things and get out of the New York precinct, and hopped into the cars, praying the soft hotel beds would lull them into a deep slumber.

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Day Three at the New York precinct. All the BAU members were getting irritated that they hadn’t proceeded much on the case. Derek tossed a small basketball up and down to pass the time. Spencer twirled a pen as he stared at the geographical profile, the gears turning in his mind. Both Hotch and Rossi were discussing the case quietly while JJ and Emily doodled on each others’ arms. The blonde was innocently drawing hearts and flowers until Emily came up with an idea. Feeling a tad mischievous, Emily took her sharpie marker and started to outline something on the media liaison’s left forearm. JJ raised an eyebrow, questioning what her co-worker was doing. As the image came together, JJ gasped softly, however, not surprised that Emily drew a vagina.

Emily quietly laughed as JJ, annoyed by the brunette’s actions, took her sharpie marker and tried her best to transform the vagina drawing into a flower. Taking her time, and with only a sharpie, JJ showed off her artistic talent by creating a masterpiece: a carnation blooming out of a vagina.

Emily rolled her eyes when JJ stuck out her tongue at the brunette. Taking Emily’s right arm, the media liaison started to outline a grid for a game of tic tac toe. The brunette started the game by marking an “x” in a spot and JJ took her turn. The two women continued their game of tic tac toe and

Everyone was silent in their own world until Hotch’s phone rang. The unit chief picked it up and it was a number he couldn’t recognize. Hotch silently motioned Derek to call Penelope to start triangulating the call’s location.

“Hotchner.”

“Hello, Aaron.” A sultry voice talked. On the other side of the call was the unsub, Taylor Evans.

“Seems you know my name.” Hotch asked.

“I researched you in preparation for this phone call,” Evans said. Through the phone receiver, Hotch could hear the soft whooshes of pages turning.

“You reading a book? What’s the title?”

“Le monde comme il va by Voltaire,” Taylor closed her book. “Have you read his work?”

“No, I haven’t. You seem highly educated.” Hotch stated.

“You seem to know a lot about me.” Taylor retorted.

“But I don’t know you that well since the start of this phone call.” Hotch responded.

“What would you like to know?” Taylor asked.

“May I know your name, for starters?” Hotch asked. A cold laugh could be heard through the landline speaker.

“Evans. Taylor Evans.” the unsub replied.

“Nice name,” Hotch complimented her to bring her guard down.

“Now that we are acquainted, you can ask me questions.” the unsub’s content sigh could be heard on the landline.

“Has life been hard on you?” Taylor asked, wanting to jump the gun.

“I try my best.”

“Try my best,” Taylor said mockingly. “Is that the best you can do for your family?” A sarcastic tone filled Taylor’s voice, not liking what the unit chief said in response to her question.

“With what I’ve got.” Hotch said.

“You got any children?” Taylor said to divert the conversation.

“I have a son.”

“How often do you see him?”

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” Taylor tried to put Hotch under pressure, to get him to crack.

“No, I don't get there as often as I want.” A pitiful sigh was heard on the phone.

“I believe you, but don’t compare yourself to the men I see and work with. You are nothing like them. You’re just another whore.” Taylor said with such disgust in her tone.

“How am I a whore?” Hotch asked.

“You come when called on short notice. Begging to be put to work. Saving your reputation. However, even though you’re a workaholic, you make the time to see your son. You care for your son. You want the best for him.” Taylor explained.

“You’re right. I do want the best for him” Hotch said. The unsub sighed, wishing that she had a good man, like Hotch, for a father.

“Enough about you. What do you have to say about me?” Taylor asked the unit chief.

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying.” Hotch explained.

“Good deductive reasoning,” Taylor said. “But how do you know if what I find provides me less satisfaction each time?”

“It’s a part of your nature. Until you hit a psychotic break and start devolving.” Hotch said.

“Hm. Want to find out, Agent Hotchner?” She hung up on him after that last sentence. Everyone in the conference room stayed silent in awe. The unsub injecting herself into the investigation surprised all the agents in the room.

“She contacted us,” Spencer said in astonishment, breaking the silence.

“She’s getting impatient. Have Garcia look up everything on Taylor Evans. We need to find if she lines up with the preliminary profile.” Hotch instructed Derek. The olive brown-skinned man did exactly what the unit chief said: call Penelope and extract as much information as possible on the potential unsub.

“Her use of the word whore is interesting,” Spencer quipped. “It suggests she's trying to disassociate herself from her actions.”

“But she's become more personal with the murders,” Emily said. “This doesn’t make sense. She is contradicting herself.”

After gathering the information, and debilitating on the facts, everyone came to the same conclusion: Taylor Evans was their unsub.

“Reid, tell Detective Miller that it’s time to deliver the profile.” Rossi said.

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Every law enforcement officer occupied the main space of the precinct. All of the BAU members stood at one side, making it like a stage. JJ stood beside Emily, thinking to herself that she could have been this girl in a way. Both her and the unsub look eerily similar, maybe even mistaken for each other.

“We wanted to give out the profile as soon as possible. We’re looking for a white female, between the ages of 20 and 25,” Hotch said to start the profile. “Her name is Taylor Evans. Dirty blonde hair with grey eyes. She’s organized, methodical, and knows how to blend in with the crowd.”

“When this unsub kills, she does so mercilessly and without an ounce of pity. She also wants her victims to know they are going to die by her hand.” Rossi said.

“That’s why her preferred weapon of choice is throwing knives. They provide a clean cut. No mess required.” Emily said, slowly rocking on her heels.

“With her choice of weapon, she can be quick and efficient with her kills, as murder is her only goal,” Spencer paused to catch a breath. “But all the bottled-up rage gets released when she goes in for a second time, post mortem, and stabs the body multiple times.”

“It is a way for her to get sexual gratification. And revenge, from her years of being emotionally and sexually abused by her father,” Rossi said. “The victims fit the description of her father and they are surrogates for him.”

“She is also a textbook psychopath, exhibiting all of the classic traits: incapability of feeling any empathy towards others, neither guilt nor remorse, and claiming no responsibility for her actions. Like others of her type, she is highly intelligent, manipulative, and narcissistic.” Spencer explained the unsub’s pathology.

“Evans had received higher education. She graduated with a business degree, most likely a subconscious influence from her father. With the business acumen and the social skillset, this unsub can easily blend in with all the other business people and manipulate them.” Hotch explained, walked slowly around the large room.

“Based on her background, she came from a wealthy family. However, the family wasn’t perfect. Her father constantly cheated on his wife. The mother always forgave him. As a young girl, Evans most likely has experienced emotional and sexual abuse from her father. It was a way for him to control his daughter, and she had resented that for years.” Emily said about the unsub’s childhood.

“She mostly has experienced misogyny in her professional life. Had little comments and slights against her. Perhaps a less qualified male co-worker took a promotion that she deemed herself to be of a better fit,” Derek explained about the stressor. “Something in her work life triggered her to start killing the men who represented her father.”

“With this profile, we should search for Taylor Evans’ location and any potential victims. We suggest going public with the information as soon as possible… Thank you very much.” Hotch ended the profile with his parting words. Everyone at the precinct was disbursed from the room to get back to their work. The agents huddled together to prep themselves in case something big were to happen.

“JJ, I would like for you to conduct a press conference,” Hotch said.

“Why is that, sir?” The media liaison asked.

“I would like to draw her out. Have it known that we are after her.” The media liaison nodded her head in agreement and left the main room to work on getting a press conference together.

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Before entering the press room, JJ took a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself down. Thoughts were rushing in her mind. Don’t let them get to you, JJ. She neatly fixed her hair to seem presentable. Taking her golden heart necklace, the media liaison kissed it for good luck.

The media liaison walked into the conference room with great confidence and stood behind the mahogany podium. Standing tall, JJ was not willing to lose a fight with the media, especially with a high-profile case.

“Ok, can I have everyone's attention,” JJ said to gather the media’s attention to her. “Please, if you could just take your seats…”

“There have been a series of murders that appeared in random locations around Brooklyn. There is sufficient evidence that the victims were murdered on Wall Street then transported to their disposal sites.”

“We believe she may have experienced a psychotic break recently, causing the unsub to escalate to murder to regain a sense of control. You should increase your patrols in and around Wall Street… “

“Why would you focus your profile on the finance guys when the unsub has also contacted members of the FBI?” A male reporter interrupted the media liaison.

JJ stood at the podium in shock. How could he know about that? We kept that under wraps.

“I- How did you obtain that information?” JJ asked.

“I overheard one of the cops saying it.” The journalist said casually. The blonde’s right eyebrow lightly twitched in anger. What couldn’t those cops just shut their mouths, JJ thought.

“What you heard from these officers isn’t true,” JJ lied to keep confidential information private. “Now, do you have any questions about the case?” A new wave of hands came up. JJ took a few more questions to answer. After a while, it was time to end the press conference.

“If anyone works in or around Wall Street, and sees anything unusual, please do not hesitate to call the number on your screen. Thank you.” JJ said her final statement, ending the press conference. As she walked down the steps down the small stage, a reporter called out her name.

“Agent Jareau! I have something that may be of interest for you!” A different male reporter called out. JJ turned to face him, excepting the same male reporter from earlier. Trying to keep her anger inside, she greeted the news reporter with dignity.

The male reporter handed the media liaison a letter. JJ took a look at it and was surprised at what she saw: the signature of their unsub.

“How did you get this?” JJ asked the man.

“It was sent to me yesterday, directly to the New York Herald.” The man said. JJ called for one of the officers by the wall to collect the letter for evidence.

“We are going to take this in for evidence processing. One of the officers here will take you in for some questioning.” The man nodded as another officer whisked him away for interrogation.

JJ sighed and went to search for the officer that unknowingly leaked information. She saw him with another cop, talking, against the wall outside of the press conference room.

“That information was not for the public!” JJ said, angrily at an NYPD officer.

“Listen, lady. I don’t know how and where he got the information from,” The beat cop explained himself. “He could have been creeping around the crime scenes or the precinct.

“Keep your mouth shut, pal, as this case is private and under federal jurisdiction.” JJ huffed as Derek grabbed her shoulders and slowly tried to drag her away. The blonde complied with her co-worker, not throwing a fight as this was not her battle to fight in.

Once Derek loosened his grips, the media liaison dashed out of the conference room to find her own space to calm down.

JJ speed-walked once she was out of the hallway’s vicinity. She rushed into the nearest bathroom. Breathing heavily, the media liaison slowly walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, JJ prepared herself for the biggest scream she would take in her life.

“Fuck. These little shits. Those bastards. Assholes. Son of a bitch. Fucking shit. Why can’t they keep their mouths fucking shut! Those cocksucking motherfucking god damned jackasses!” JJ yelled at the top of her lungs. Her chest fell hard as the blonde was taking deep breaths. She felt better after taking out her anger by screaming. Feeling a little tired, JJ sat on the closed toilet and placed her head between her knees to calm herself down. A few minutes went by, and someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“JJ… Are you okay?” Emily’s voice could be heard on the other side. JJ sighed while getting up. She opened the stall door and tried to make herself more presentable. Unlocking the silver lock, she opened the door slowly to reveal a relieved Emily Prentiss.

“Ah–,” Emily gently grabbed JJ and brought her in a warm embrace. They stood together in that position for a few minutes before heading back to the conference room, where the others were, preparing themselves to capture the unsub tonight.

Later that evening, the BAU team, along with SWAT, raided a luxury apartment building in Downtown Brooklyn. Upon entering the only penthouse, Derek broke the door with his strength. The group of agents entered the area and in the middle of the living room, was Taylor Evans. Black mascara ran down her cheeks as she held a gun in her left hand and the final tarot card in the other.

“Just in time for the show, agents.” Evans croaked. Her sad grey eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed from her mental breakdown.

“Taylor… Listen. You’re young. You don’t have to do this. If you come with us, you can get a lighter sentence and live your life.” Emily said to calm down the broken girl.

More time passed by as Emily and Spencer tried their best to negotiate with the unsub, but the end was already written. Taylor Evans planned to do an end game, one where she put herself out of misery.

“I’m sorry….” the blonde girl whispered. In a swift motion, Taylor pulled the trigger onto herself and shot herself underneath the jaw. Her body dropped quickly but Derek ran up to the body to catch it.

“Damn it,” Derek said. “She was young. Broken. Felt like she had to prove herself that she was something.”

“There was nothing we could have done to help, Morgan. She already had planned her end. She was long gone before anyone else could have noticed.” Hotch responded to Derek’s little monologue.

Right next to her body was the Emperor card. A beautiful deep purple with gold lining depicting an emperor. The gold detailing reflected against the tall mirrors in the room. The card was reversed, like if she purposefully did that to tell the end to her story.

taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @jemilyology / @pumpkin-stars / @lgbtbau / @drinkingcroissants / @abbyprentiss / @pen3mily / @morcias / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @notsosmexy / @rxcklessly-bratty / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp

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dothwrites · 4 years

Text

spn15 spec, destiel, post 15.18, mcd?? sort of???

---

And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend.--Antoine de-Saint Exupery, The Little Prince

---

Castiel opens his eyes in nothingness.

It’s not dark, though the air which presses around him is thick onyx. There is neither gravity nor weightlessness here. Castiel exists but he does so in a void so barren that he doubts his own mind. He opens his mouth to call out, but no sound escapes.

Castiel exists in ignorance for one, glorious moment. Then the weight of memory crushes into him. His chest buckles underneath the pressure. He tries to scream, but the vast emptiness swallows the sound.

---

“Cas, we can fight this!”

Dean, his Righteous Man, Dean, the shining beacon, his friend...The first real friend he’d ever made. Dean is ready to fight. Dean would fight God, has indeed fought God. But he can’t fight this.

The door shudders in its frame. Blow after blow rains down on the weakening wood. Already, the wood is splintering under the assault. The thin strip of light at the bottom of the door disappears underneath a sea of writhing black. The Empty is here. It wants what it was promised.

“Dean,” he says. He intends to say much more--It’s too late, let me go, thank you--but his voice cracks on the single syllable of Dean’s name.

He wants to stay. God help him, but he wants to stay.

“No, dammit Cas! You don’t get to give up! We can fight this thing, we can keep running, we can...” Dean’s voice trails off into nothing as he looks wildly around the small room.

Though he might protest, Castiel knows that Dean is a man bailing out a sinking ship. In his heart, Dean knows the battle is already lost. But he’s still defiant, still clinging to the faintest shred of hope.

Castiel loves him for that.

“You fought for the whole world.” Castiel’s voice is weak and pale against the ear-shattering thunder of the Empty’s attempts to break into the room.

“Cas, no--”

“But you can’t fight for me.”

The words shatter something vital in him. Castiel gasps as the agony shreds through him. He thought there would be more time. He thought that happiness was an ideal that no one could ever reach. He thought there would be time, he doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay--

“Cas, I can’t...Not again, I can’t lose you again, please don’t go--”

Black seeps into the room, slender tendrils snaking across the room towards where they stand. Castiel feels every second ticking away. He’s lived for millennia, seen worlds and empires rise and fall, felt the passing of centuries like nothing more than a passing breeze. Millions of years, and now, when it means everything, he has no time.

Castiel cups Dean’s cheek with one shaking hand. If this is it, then he doesn’t want to leave with any regrets. “Dean,” he croaks. That word has become his compass, his prayer, the star to which he hitched his wagon.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you. If I had a choice, i would stay. I would stay with you through every sunrise and sunset, through every moment, the mundane and extraordinary alike.” Castiel’s voice catches in his throat as the door finally shatters and darkness pours into the room.

“You’ve taught me everything, Dean, and I...I’m so grateful that I got to know you. Without you...”

Castiel can’t continue. He’s immeasurably grateful for all he’s experienced with Dean, but he’s always been greedy. He wants more. He wants to see Dean’s hair continue to silver until it’s soft and grey. He wants to go fishing with Dean and discover the peace inherent in the activity. He wants to watch Jack grow into his own and Sam start a family. He wants, with a fierceness that takes his breath away.

Darkness curls around his ankle and winds its way up his calf.

Dean shakes his head. Tears well in his eyes but refuse to spill over, though his lower lip shakes. “Please,” he asks, tilting his head into Castiel’s palm. “I can’t...how am I supposed to do this without you?”

Castiel starts to respond, but his voice is cut off by the swift, hard press of Dean’s lips into his. His heart jolts and gutters in his chest before it picks up again, beating so hard he thinks it might escape through the confines of his ribs.

“I love you.”

The words tumble out of Castiel’s mouth, the same as they did years ago when he was rotting from in the inside out. The same frantic need consumes him now as it did then, when every beat of his heart dragged him closer to the edge of oblivion, when seconds were more precious than gold, when he was so close to losing everything--

Dean sobs. He clutches the lapels of Castiel’s coat and kisses him, teeth bruising behind his lips.

Castiel’s whole lower body is engulfed in darkness so complete that it feels as though it’s ceased to exist. His whimper is lost in Dean’s mouth.

“No,” Dean gasps, pulling away. Castiel already knows the cause of Dean’s denial. He can feel it, creeping up his chest and shoulders, slithering down to his arms. He remembers how it was to be devoured, remembers the noxious black ooze of the Leviathan crawling through him, but this is worse, is so much worse, because now he knows what Dean’s lips taste like, now he knows everything he has to lose--

“Cas, I love you,” Dean tells him, though his words echo strangely. The Empty crawls up his throat. Castiel chokes on it, but he doesn’t dare to blink. He can’t lose a second of this, of Dean’s face, horrified and tear-stricken though it is.

Seconds tick away like centuries, Dean’s face in front of him. Castiel can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can see the words shaped on his lips.

I’ll find you, I promise, I’m coming for you, Cas, Cas, I love--

And then.

Empty.

---

With the image of Dean’s face in his mind, Castiel screams.

There is no sound in the Empty, but he screams anyway. His agony and loss pour out of him, his grief and fear. Everything that he’s lost, Dean--

Castiel screams until his voice cracks and breaks, until his throat is shredded and raw, until he tastes blood in the back of his throat.

Hollow, he slumps to the side, curling into himself. His one consolation was that he would at least be asleep for the rest of eternity. He wouldn’t have to live with the weight of everything he’d lost. Now, even that slender comfort has been ripped from him. For the rest of time, he’ll have to exist with the memory of Dean’s glassy eyes, with the sound of Dean’s choked voice echoing through his skull, with the phantom ache of Dean’s lips against his. Castiel shudders, sobs ripping out of his throat.

“Jesus. So much for helping.”

Castiel blinks. The sound of another voice is foreign in this void where nothing should exist. He rolls over, looking up at the sardonic face staring down at him.

“Ruby,” he rasps, then remembers himself.

That’s not Ruby.

“Go away,” he mutters. He wraps his arms around his legs, pressing his forehead to his knees. There’s no point in having pride here, not when time is meaningless and every second is a torture. The Empty already knows his secrets, though why it chose Ruby’s form to torment him is a mystery.

“Look feathers, you were the one who screwed the pooch on this whole ‘fixing eternity’ thing. So I think I’m going to stick around for a bit.”

“There’s no point,” Castiel says miserably. “You got what you wanted. I’m here. I’m suffering. What more could you possibly want from me?”

“Were you dropped on your halo? I told you what I wanted the last time you were here. I want out, you moron. I told you to find a way out, and you wound up here, which is kind of the opposite of what I asked.”

Castiel blinks slowly, lifting his forehead from his knees. “Ruby?” he asks.

Ruby rolls her eyes and sighs for dramatic effect. “Yeah, dumbo. You know, I’ve only been trying to tell you that since the beginning.”

“I can’t trust that.” Castiel remembers all too well the last time he was here, the jolt of pleasure at seeing Meg once more only to realize that the Empty was aping her appearance to hurt him. “The Empty, it takes on your visage, your memories--”

“Yeah, you’re just going to have to trust me on this.” Ruby’s eyes flash black. “You know, as much as you can.”

“I’d pay attention to her, Clarence. If you don’t, then she’ll probably kick your ass.”

Castiel knows that voice. He whirls around. Meg’s face greets him, a tiny smirk twisting her lips upward. “Meg,” he whispers, an odd combination of grief and happiness twisting in his chest.

“The one and only,” she assures him.

A small shred of doubt clings at the back of Castiel’s mind, but he has to trust in something right now. Even if it’s two dead demons.

“Castiel. So lovely to see you again. Though I can’t say that I agree with the company you’re keeping these days.”

Make that three dead demons.

“Crowley,” Castiel breathes.

The demon looks exactly the same as he did the day he died. His suit is pristine, down to the pocket square. He looks at Meg and Ruby with disdain before he turns that expression on Castiel. “I suppose you’re doing your biannual visit to this dump? Feel like taking any passengers out with you when you make your escape this time?”

“I’m not...I made a deal,” Castiel whispers. He made a deal to save his son and he’ll never regret that, not for a second, but then he thinks of Dean’s face. “I’m not leaving.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so negative, Cassie. You do have a way of wriggling out of the tightest of places.”

Mingled guilt and joy sear through Castiel as he turns around. Balthazar’s familiar face looks at him. Balthazar raises an eyebrow. “No hug?” he asks.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel breathes. Surrounded by ghosts from his past, he feels weak. “None of you should be awake. That’s the whole point of this place. All of us, asleep, forever.”

“That’s the way it should be, but you have a habit of wrecking the natural order.” Castiel winces at Anna’s cool voice. Though there’s no real judgement in her voice, there’s also no real warmth. “It’s been changing here, ever since your last visit.”

“I woke it up.”

“And because you woke it up, we all started to awake as well.” Hannah’s calm voice joins their small group, though it’s growing steadily larger. “All of us, demons and angels, started awaking. At first, it was just for moments, but lately, it’s been distracted. More of us have been able to stay awake for longer. Eventually we started finding each other.”

“That’s my boy,” Meg says, unmistakable fondness in her voice. “Shaking up the natural order, wrecking the whole of the afterlife.”

Castiel’s eyes dart between all of them, former enemies, allies, and friends. “Is this all of you?”

“Were you not listening? Did they not just tell you that we’ve all been waking up, at least a little bit?”

Gabriel pops into existence next to Castiel. Despite himself, Castiel jerks back in surprise.

“So, what’s it going to be, Cas? Are you going to just pop out of here like always?” Crowley brings Castiel’s brain back to the present.

When he made his deal, he made it with full awareness that there was no coming back. He accepted that burden because he knew it was the only way he could save Jack.

But that was before he felt Dean’s lips against his, before he heard the words fall from Dean’s mouth. I love you.

When he made the deal, he had never heard those words directed at him. When he made the deal, he had nothing to fight for.

Now he does.

He made a choice long ago. You don’t have to be ruled by Fate. You can choose freedom.

Castiel looks at all of them, demons and angels alike, and makes a choice.

“We’ve got work to do.”

311 notes · View notes

touyota · 3 years

Text

Catfish

☁ Summary: Tomura is hopeless when it comes to relationships, and soon that’s all subject to change. With the power of Tinder, Touya and one oblivious chick on his side, who knows what can happen.

A/N: omgggg, i’ve lurked on my priv for the past year and finally decided to stop being a narc and post something. i haven’t written in forever and it shows lmao, but uh yeah pls give me feedback if you’d like. (also idk if this has been. done before, but sorryyy if it has)

☁ Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader

☁ Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, manipulation, dumbfication (if you squint), slapping, yandere, catfishing

"Fuck I'm horny."

Tomura groaned into his pillow, conflicted with whether he should be agitated or turned on. Due to his third nap of the day being interrupted by the excessive lewd noises coming from the shared living room. Tomura's roommate, Touya, had no real understanding of boundaries and was often more bothersome than helpful. Still, without his portion of the rent, he'd be on the streets struggling to find an apartment within his meager budget.

"Keep fucking me, Touya-san!" The plea echoed through the thin walls of the shoddy apartment. At least someone was getting laid. The last time Tomura had gotten lucky was at an impromptu Halloween party thrown by Touya at the apartment.

He went as Jason Vorhees using a dingy hockey mask he found in Touya's closet. The poor girl in question, who came dressed as an angel, was drunk out of her mind. She clung to Tomura's scrawny body incoherently, slurring about "How hot it would be to fuck a murderer." The fling hadn't lasted long before the young lady in question toppled over the side of his bed and hurled her entire cup of jungle juice onto the floor. Poor Tomura had to spend his night nursing her head over the toilet. Making a mental note to tell Touya that he couldn't invite any freshmen to their parties ever again.

Tomura ended up seeing her again in passing on campus, giving a small smile as she walked by. Only to be met with an eye roll as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. Fucking bitch... Other than that, Tomura had found himself too busy writing code, playing video games, and browsing Reddit to dedicate any time to dating. The polar opposite of his roomie Touya-san, a communications major whose schedule consisted of dating? If you considered fucking the same chick for a week before ghosting her dating, sleeping, and eating and drinking Tomura out of a house and home.

"You ready for my load? You're my little cum dump, right? Say you're my cum du-"

Speaking of fucking, Tomura's hard-on was starting to hurt, and what better way to relieve himself than to beat off to the action in the adjacent room.

He started to palm himself over his sweats, erection already beginning to poke through. Figuring that he's teased himself enough, he lowered his boxers, allowing his cock to slap against his stomach, throbbing and angry. He slowly stroked himself, gathering the pre-cum spouting from the tip, and used it to lube the rest of his cock.

"Pleaseee fuck! I'm your little cum dump! I swear Touya!"

Tomura started to stroke his cock faster, leaving a squelching noise with each stroke. He was barely managing to suppress his moans. Knowing how Touya wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he got caught fucking his hand to the sounds of their subtle lovemaking.

"Fuckfuckfuck... I'm cumming!" Touya grunted, giving out after his final stroke.

Tomura followed suit, flicking his wrist with each stroke. As his orgasm finally took hold of him, biting into his shirt to stifle his moan as he came all over his fist.

"Are you fucking serious, Touya?"

"What?"

"I didn't get to cum?"

"Um… I'm sure you can take care of that when you get home."

"You're such a piece of sh-"

Tomura tuned out the rest of his roommate's performance. Really hoping he'd wrap it up cause he really needed to take a piss and couldn't make it to the bathroom without passing through the living room.

After hearing a respectable amount of silence, he figured it was safe to leave the room. Of course, he was wrong; he was met with a staredown between Touya and a petite blonde woman.

"I'm sure your roommate Tenko wouldn't leave a lady hanging like that."

"It's Tomura," he muttered.

"Same fucking thing, my point still stands," The mystery woman huffed. There was a pregnant pause before Touya doubled over in laughter, clutching his chest.

"You think this cuck knows how to take care of a lady? Yeah, it's time to go, Tara."

"It's Toga, you shit stai-"her statement was abruptly interrupted, the door slamming in her face. Touya's back slid down against the door as he sat facing Tomura.

"Chicks? Am I right?" Touya sighed, peering over at Tomura, who had just left the bathroom. "Speaking of chicks, when's the last time you had sex, Shiggy?"

"It's been... a while." Tomura shrugged, not wanting to indulge his roommate with the details of his sex life.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Let's make you a Tinder." Touya proudly announced, excited at the prospect of playing matchmaker for his roommate. Tomura reluctantly gave in, knowing once Touya was set on something, it was bound to happen one way or another.

Two blunts later, Tomura and Touya were strewn over the couch, mulling over his profile's final details. It consisted of three pics, one from the Halloween party, another from their most recent function. The last pic is a selfie of him in a black hoodie with sunglasses on. The icing on top is the bio that unironically stated, "Freak in the sheets, gamer in the streets."

"You're gonna be a real pussy magnet shiggy. Just wait, you'll have to fight the chicks off with a stick after they see this." Touya chuckled as he took another puff of the blunt.

"Go to hell and stop hogging; you didn't put shit in on this anyways," Tomura muttered as he snatched the blunt away to take a pull. Maybe he would find some success, he entertained the concept of having a consistent fuck buddy, but sometimes he was lonely and just wanted someone to lay up with. He wanted to be optimistic about something for once, taking his final pull and ashing the blunt out. The smoky haze and intoxicating scent lulling him to sleep.

Fuck optimism, Tomura thought. It had been three days with zero matches or messages, and he was starting to think there had to be a glitch in the system. The only time he had seen a match is when he accidentally swiped on Midnight's profile, a famous Only fans content creator who specialized in BDSM. The same Midnight that he happened to be a top donor for and occasionally bought panties from, but that's beside the point. The profile was poorly made with blurry, uncropped pics taken straight from her social media profiles. The lack of detail and legitimacy was apparent. Tomura felt terrible for the poor soul who probably fell for it, but it made him think…

Why not see how different the response would be if he ran a profile under someone else's guise. Someone more attractive, someone more affluent, and someone more famous. This was simply a social experiment; no harm would come from it of course. He would simply ghost anyone who wanted to meet, keeping all interactions virtual. Now who could he possibly pretend to be. without getting caught. Tomura's eyes finally settled on an Axe ad playing on tv featuring male model Keigo Takami. Mr. tall, blonde, and handsome would definitely attract the feminine masses.

Ding ding ding, it was like a bell went off in his head; he had found his new look. He started to scour the internet for any pictures of Hawks that weren't already posted to his socials and be sure to crop any evidence out. A few hours later, Tomura gazed over his final product. He thought it seemed too good to be true; he was sure that anyone with a working brain would know the profile was clearly a catfish. It was too clean, too pristine, and too perfect, but Tomura was tired of the profile's nit-picking details and saved his last changes. It was starting to get dark, and he had to begin his Comp Sci homework soon so he'd have time to play zombies on Call of Duty later.

Tomura woke to a multitude of buzzes notifying him of the several hundred matches he'd accumulated overnight on his Hawks profile. Apparently, no one had a working brain within the 15-mile radius. The messages were filled with tons of chicks he had seen on campus or in class. He even recognized the one from the Halloween party. He spent his morning smoke break, siphoning through the various contenders.

Too tall.

Too blonde.

Too ugly.

Until...

He finally stopped scrolling when he reached your profile; he had seen you before in his Major classes. You were a somewhat modest girl, always working to be an overachiever and teacher's pet. You hadn't spoken to him before, only forcing a smile when Tomura was caught staring at you in class. You were talented, beautiful, quiet, and you hadn't encountered Touya yet. You were everything he had wanted, and more. He started to type a message awaiting your response.

Keigo: "What's keeping you up this late, love ;)"

Tomura thought to keep it casual enough to fit his suave persona.

Y/N: "lol, just sum late night studying keeping me up."

Y/N: "won't lie im very nervous to texting you rn, i'm a big fan

Keigo: "it's gud knowing i have fans as cute as you ;p"

The conversation seemed to flow from there between you two, texting for almost two weeks strong. Tomura had learned so much about you in a short time, your favorite foods, your favorite color, favorite music, and your dislikes as well. Touya often came by his room to check in on Operation: Get Shiggy Some Pussy, only to be met with a "Fuck off," and yet another door slammed in his face.

You gushed over how lucky you were to be texting the one and only Keigo Takami. Of course, you were skeptical at first, but what kind of fucked up person would take the time to pretend to be another person? The conversation between you two was great and always kept you on your toes. Still, sometimes days would pass before you received a response; you chalked it to the fact that he was always busy as a celebrity and didn't always have time to respond to you.

You were currently lying in bed and unable to fall asleep; you peered at your phone to see that it was 2:05 am. You let out a sigh, preparing to stare at your ceiling until you finally fell asleep, only to be interrupted by a chime from your phone. It was a message from Keigo.

Keigo: you up? ;(

You instantly typed a response, scared that you had done something wrong.

Y/N: yup, what's wrong…?

Keigo: i'm so fucking hard rn baby ;(((

Oh shit, you hadn't prepared yourself for that response; maybe he injured himself at work or-

Keigo: you still there babe? send a pic ;p

You definitely hadn't prepared for that, but who were you to deny him. Keigo could've asked anyone else in the world, but he asked you. Not wanting to leave him waiting, you quickly shucked your shirt off and used your arm to push up your breasts, giving an illusion of the perfect push up bra. You promptly took several pics, taking the time to edit and select the ideal filters to complement your skin tone.

Y/N: 1 image sent

A bubble indicating him typing popped up instantly

Keigo: 3 images sent

Keigo: fuckkkk babe, ur such a tease

You opened the pics, feeling your panties dampen slightly. It was a cock, well Keigo's cock, fat and engorged, leaking pre-cum against his toned belly. He was mostly well-groomed, but a prominent white tuft of hair appears in the picture, making you wonder if Keigo was actually a natural blonde.

Keigo: 1 video sent

let me see that pretty pussy baby,

It was a video of Keigo languidly stroking his cock, how romantic. It was only right for a gorgeous man like Keigo to have a pretty cock to match. What he lacked in girth was definitely made up for in length, complemented with a slight curve that could definitely reach that itch that none of your toys could scratch. By now, you had ditched your panties and started to slowly start to fuck yourself open with one finger at a time. You started recording and angled the phone against your pillow, trying to capture you desperately fucking yourself on your fingers, letting out a small whimper with each thrust.

Y/N: 1 video sent

You began to fuck yourself vigorously, dragging the accumulated slick over your clit with slow, circular strokes. You felt your orgasm on the brink, growing more restless and desperate, humping reverently at your fingers, whimpering desperately; you were so close...There was a sudden surge of fluid from your core, incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth as you kept carefully fucked yourself through your climax. The post-orgasm bliss lulling you to sleep, your eyes had finally fluttered shut, only to be awakened by another chime.

Keigo: 1 image sent

look @ all that cum baby, its all for you ;)

Y/N: when can we meet? my fingers can only work for so long :p

Read: 2:53 am

Aw man, maybe he fell asleep. You were definitely fighting sleep at this point as well, finally closing your eyes, satisfied for the night.

Tomura struggled to catch his breath, reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe the sticky cum off of his stomach. That was the third time this month you'd ask about a meeting, and it was frankly starting to piss him off. He'd have to come up with something fast if he wanted to keep you around. Even though he didn't have much of a moral compass left in his body, the feeling of guilt was hard to ignore. You didn't deserve to be roped into his fucked up social experiment…

A yawn interrupted Tomura's guilty thoughts. He could continue to feel guilty when he wakes up tomorrow.

The following week your prayers had been answered, Keigo finally agreed to meet! It had been such a bittersweet feeling. What if he thought you looked nothing like your profile pictures? Would he reject you and run the other way, screaming? You tried to push your doubtful feelings down by distracting yourself with running errands. Finding the perfect outfit to wear, getting every inch of your body waxed, and picking up a lacy red lingerie set.

Upon getting back to your apartment, you found a red bouquet of roses on the doormat. They were clearly store-bought and not of excellent quality… but it's the thought that counts!

Lots of celebrities were frugal, and of course, Keigo was no different. After further inspection, a small white card with an address and time. You searched the address finding a mid-grade hotel on the outskirts of the city. Keigo was definitely a (cheap) frugal man dedicated to his discretion. Soon realizing that the time on the card was approaching, you quickly ran to shower and primp yourself for the evening. Not even thinking to question how he found your address in the first place...

You had finally arrived at the sketchy hotel, noting that there were little to no cars in the parking lot and noting that none of them looked like they belonged to Keigo. You wandered through the lobby until you finally reached the elevator, tapping the button for the 5th floor. You tried to shake off your pre-meeting jitters, you already knew everything would be fine, but you couldn't shake the feeling of something wrong...

Those intrusive thoughts were soon interrupted by the chime that indicated you had reached your floor. You took a deep breath as you stepped off the elevator, pacing yourself as you walked to your destination.

Room 555

How fitting, you thought. Your knuckles rasped against the door several times.

"Come in." A voice sounded through the door.

You peeked your head around the door before taking a step in the room, not being able to locate the owner of the voice. You gasped after taking the appearance of the room. The room had rose petals haphazardly strewn across the floor. Candles flickered on the dresser, a bubble bath was run in the bathroom, and to top it off, a too cheap bottle of champagne on ice.

There was clearly an effort made, which made your heart swoon, hoping to put a real face to the man you've been speaking to for the past few months, you said out into the empty room.

"Keigo, I like what you've done with the place. You can come out now," you giggled.

"I'm glad you got the flowers," a raspy voice responded.

.......Huh?

Your joy instantly crushed, having heard Keigo's voice multiple times in the interviews you've seen, it sounded nothing like that. Unless he'd suddenly started chain-smoking within the past few months. A loud alarm started going off in your head. It was definitely time to go.

You twirled on your heels and reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped by a hand gripping your upper arm.

"Leaving so soon? The bathwater is still warm…" The mystery voice informed.

"Oh… I think I have the wrong room, so sorry about that." You squeaked, attempting to reach the door again only to be dragged into a bony chest.

Your chin was tilted, forcing you to meet eyes with "Keigo." Who was actually a porcelain-skinned tower of a man with shaggy white hair that had an oddly familiar look to him?

"Let me go! You're not Keigo!" You screamed, hoping to alert any other guests on the floor.

"Fucking took you long enough. I thought you were smarter than those other bitches on campus. Tomura balked, struggling to keep you still in his grasp.

Campus. That's where you recognized the face and voice of your captor, you were both in the same Comp Sci class, and you'd often caught him staring as you worked, chalking it up to you having something on your face or in your teeth. The realization caused tears to spurt from your eyes.

"Poor baby, didn't mommy and daddy teach you to not speak to strangers on the internet?"

"I-I thought y-you were K-Keigo," you gasped, struggling to control your sobs.

"Well, I'm not. Get over it." Tomura slurred, placing sloppy kisses over your collar bone, slowly backing you towards the bed.

You couldn't bring yourself to move or fight anymore, body stiff with fear. Your sobs increase in volume after feeling your legs make contact with the edge of the bed. You didn't know this man from a can of paint, and here he is about to assault you.

"Stop crying before I leak those sexy little videos you shared with "Keigo." Imagine if everyone in the class knew how much of an easy slut you are?" Tomura hissed, shoving you unto the stiff mattress, springs squeaking as you bounced.

You cradled your mouth, struggling to stifle your sobs. Why hadn't you recognized the signs sooner? You spent so much time looking at the situation through rose-colored lenses that you had utterly neglected your safety. But it wasn't the time to feign sympathy for yourself. You needed to take action, and soon—the shaggy haired stranger dragging your motionless body towards the end of the headboard.

"Wait!" You gasped, hoping that you could possibly reason with your captor.

"What's your name?

This was your final chance to escape. You suddenly kicked forward, aiming for his face, failing miserably as it was blocked. Both legs were then shoved into a mating press, granting Tomura the space to press himself even closer to you.

A groan left Tomura's mouth, frotting against your clothed mound, smothering your neck with sloppy saliva drenched kisses. You cowered at the feeling, curling away from his advances. The dry humping continued until a final groan of desperation was released. He was too grown for this shit and didn't feel like going home with stained boxers when your sweet heat was right in front of him.

The red bodycon dress you decided on was shredded down the middle, leaving you in your lingerie set. You added that to the list of things you were already regretting, moving to cover yourself the best you could. Your efforts to preserve the crumb of modesty you had left were futile, both hands knocked out of the way.

"You don't have to hide princess, I think Christmas came early.” “You're wrapped so pretty, baby." He chuckled, moving to fondle your breasts. Taking the time to pinch and pull at both nipples, drawing small hesitant gasps.

"I'll play with these more later. You don't know how long I've waited to play with that cute little pussy in person." You felt your panties tugged to the side, embarrassed with the amount of arousal accumulated below. The feeling was soon replaced with horror after feeling the tip of his cock dragged between your slit.

Tomura used the residual slick to grease his cock, bypassing the need to stretch you out. He pressed forward, forcing himself inside, pausing to catch his breath. Damn... it's been a long time.

You yelped in pain, closing your eyes in hopes of blocking out the situation at hand. You felt him start to pick up his pace, causing small tinges of pain to course through your body.

"Mmmm, open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you." He gasped, realizing you hadn't complied yet, he landed a firm slap on your cheek. "Not only are you dumb, but you're also deaf too… open. SMACK your. SMACK fucking. SMACK eyes."

Your eyes shot open, brimming with tears, finding yourself face to face with your captor. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, dainty white lashes framing the lids, traces of dry patches on his face. He wasn't ugly. You'd honestly give him a chance if he asked you out like a decent human being.

His pace had gained traction, hips crashing against yours. You found yourself slowly succumbing to the pleasure, discreetly fucking yourself against him. You wanted to protest and resist against him, but with your inhibitions lowered, you found it hard to comply. Each thrust pulling you further into the abyss that was your impending orgasm. Your lust-filled thoughts being interrupted by the stranger's incoherent mumbling.

"Tomura."

"Huh?" you whimpered, not fully understanding what he said.

"My name is Tomura."

"Okay and mine i-"

"Shut up and say my name." Tomura's thrusts were sporadic, signaling his impending climax. "Beg me to cum…... please."

You barely registered the final demand, not recognizing the soft tone of his voice.

"T-tomura, p-please let me cum!" you begged, right on edge needing something, anything to push you over.

Two nimble, callused fingers drew delicate circles over your clit, forcing you to writhe and sob as your orgasm coursed through your body. The feeling that followed was one of warmth as Tomura came, slowing his thrusts until he collapsed, encasing you in his arms.

Your eyes fluttered shut with your post-orgasm haze lulling you to sleep until a wet, sticky substance trickled along your inner thigh...

What the fuck....

You nearly launched yourself from the bed, fighting to separate yourself from your captor's arms.

"What is wrong with you?"

"You didn't use a condom," you wailed, tears perched at the corner of your eyes. You didn't have the time for a child, you were doing great in classes, your parents would reject you, you'd be stuck playing house with some stranger and-

"Stop muttering. You're fucking up my nap. I'll buy a Plan B when I wake up." Tomura mumbled into the pillow, dragging you back into his chest.

You continued to fight his grasp, pausing after feeling a firm pinch to your side. Fighting was futile at this point, and you couldn't fully assess the situation until you had some decent sleep.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds wouldn't hurt…right?

#bnha x reader #yandere bnha #bnha smut #shiggy x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha x y/n #tw: noncon #tw: manipulation #tw: slapping #tw: dumbification

124 notes · View notes

isuspectyouhavefantheories · 3 years

Text

The Crossroads to the Sun 🌞

Takemura/Female V

Rated: M for mature themes and explicit content NSFW 18s only

Trigger Warnings: Themes of death, suicide, gallows humour

Part 1 of ???? “The Sun Series”

Link to part two :

https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/641314624666468353/search-for-the-sun

Will eventually be posted on my AO3 account when I get this beta’d. 🤟

———

She had decided she wanted to be away from night city when she pulled the plug. If anything, she wanted it to end under the blanket of the starry skies, part of her hoping they would guide her into the next world safely. Driving through the neon jungle felt like a technicolor funeral procession. Or perhaps a walk to the gallows? She was thankful she still had most of her senses as she pulled herself from her morbid reverie just in time to avoid a badly placed bollard on a sharp turn straight down the road heading towards the city limits. She swore under her breath but continued. The pain was dull, but festering in her mind, less so than before, but enough to keep reminding her of the internal ticking clock that was getting louder with each passing hour as it neared to zero. She breathed deeply though her nose and steeled herself. But more doubts began to drift through her, like a slick fog encircling her mind she thought of all the people she would be leaving behind and hoped they wouldn’t hate her after tonight.

Goro’s name flashed up on her biomon and it took her a minute to register. She nearly rear ended a truck at a traffic light before finally answering.

“Yes?”

“Where are you?” His voice was gruff, demanding and her eyebrow crinkled in irritation.

“What’s it to you?”

“Let me help you V. Just take the deal with Hanako, we make this right and you get back your life. If I were you, I would not waste the chance.”

“You mean you get back your life.” She spat, Takemura went quiet on the other end for a moment, his eyes flinching at her tone. “Don’t try and pretend this is concern for my well-being and as far as making this right goes... You really still think you and Arasaka can fix this? Goro I know when I’m beat. Nobody can fix this. I’m done for and it’s time I just fucking faced facts and made my peace. I’m done. I’m calling it.” She hadn’t realised how hard she was gripping the steering wheel until she felt the alloy begin to crunch lightly under her guerrilla cybernetics.

There was a long pause and she thought for a moment he had hung up until she heard the shuffling of erratic, hurried movement on the other end.

“Where are you V?” He demanded, his voice was direct, to the point, no room for nonsense, no room for anything but answers.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve left a data chip with Misty. It contains all the relevant evidence, via brain dance, you need to get the vindication you so desperately require.”

“V, tell me where you are right now. ” It was sharp this time.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more. Goodbye, Goro. It was a pleasure to have known you.” She hung up and looked down at her phone, closing her eyes a moment only to be jolted by Takemura calling again. She took a deep breath before turning it off and throwing it in the passenger seat and popping into third gear as she trolled though the gates past the city limits to security. She was quickly flagged through with little bother from security. They seemed more interested in what was coming into the city that what was going out.

It took her an hour to get to where she needed to go. The edge of the badlands. The final touch stone before she headed further in, back to all she ever knew. Just another busted down prewar gas station covered in sand, nature already claiming back its land. She parked her car outside and managed to pry open the front door after digging some accumulated sand from the way.

—————

She woke to the whistling of the desert storm on the shutters, the dilapidated old outpost rocked shakily. She almost felt as if she was in the belly of a ship at sea being pulverised, to and fro, by an onslaught or roaring waves.

She sat up, listening to them a while, until eventually the weather died down to a gentle lulling breeze. She stepped outside for a moment and thanked whatever powers that were out there that the sky was clear enough to see the moon and a dim scattering of stars. She climbed from her make shift cot and stepped outside.

“Still think you made the right call? Those Saka assholes might have fixed you up all nice.” Johnny flashed back into her peripheral vision, sitting on a bench under a busted canopy with his guitar slung across his lap.

“I dunno. I guess we’ll see.”

“Val.”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“They were just going to extract you and dump me the moment it suited them. What, you think I was just gonna put my head in a hungry lions mouth and just hope everything would just sort itself out? For all I know they would have just cut me open the minute they got me up there. I’d rather die out here, on some dusty ass terra firma in the wastes than lose my mind up in some space prison.” She flipped out Evelyn’s cigarette case, only three left in place making her sigh before pulling out one and lighting it up.

Johnny groaned at the sensation of the nicotine flooding her system from her first drag. It had been a while since she’d allowed herself such little pleasures, but for the first time in months she wasn’t on deaths door, bringing death so someone else’s door or trying to kidnap an heiress, so exceptions can be made.

“Weather out here huh? Never notice it in the city but, fuck. Mother nature sure is a feisty broad.”

“You have no idea.” She chuckled.

“Pretty good we got here before the worst of of the storm hit earlier. I would not want to be the sorry sack of shit that had to drive through that.” Johnny chuckled.

—————————

It was about 5am, sun already shining and blistering the ground, she had scavenged a few things from the outpost to keep her and Johnny going long enough to get to the Aldecaldos

Or just long enough. The thought of kicking it just before saying goodbye to Panam and Saul and the others churned uncomfortably down into the pit of her stomach but she attempted to occupy her mind, busying herself with prep work and repairs on her gear. She was going to try at least.

Before she could think of the next task, Johnny materialised again, already on edge.

“Someone’s coming.”

“Raffen? Cops? Arasaka?”

“Can’t be sure. I’d get ready if I were you.” He was gone again, and all she could think to do was get back to the gas station and ready herself for the visitors.

A Herra Outlaw that looked as if the chemical desert had taken a shit on it, genuinely one of the most out of place thing she had ever seen in the badlands and that was saying something, pulled up with a soft screech as the brakes engaged and the engine shuttered off. The pop of the car door made her grip her baseball bat tighter as she edged closer to the door, so as to be on the hidden side when it opened.

The door flung open, nearly ramming her in the face had she not hugged the wall so closely, she held her breath as a darkened figure entered the room, but the rasping baritone that filled the air made her freeze.

“V?” Takemura’s voice cut through her and all she could do was stare in disbelief.

“What the fuck?”

He whipped around like lightening, his wild searching gaze landed on her and his eyebrows all but flew up into his hairline and his eyes widened in disbelief but seemed to relax after a moment, a wave of relief washing over his features as of up until this moment he had been in a panic.

It was all a blur, he pulled the rusted metal door closed, nearly wrenching the door off its screeching hinges before his arms suddenly reached for her. He pulled her forcefully into his chest into an embrace that should have shattered her spine with the implants this man had. The newly back online ones, she noted.

She scrunched her eyebrows incredulously at him when he pulled away, his fingers tracing down the length of her arms until they still rested on her shoulders as he continued to look at her as if he was afraid the moment he took his eyes off her she would disappear into thin air.

“What are you doing here?” She breathed, still struggling for air after the uncharacteristic ribsplitting hug.

He looked down now, almost sheepish in his manner but he did not waiver when he returned his gaze to her.

“Stopping you from making a foolish choice.”

She sighed deeply.

“And since when do you have any right to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

“I do not. But I can try at least to make you see reason.” He wasn’t budging, she wasn’t budging.

“Goro...” she pinched the bridge of her nose and temple in an attempt to quell the newly forming tension migraine.

“You could have your life back. You would be good as new, Arasaka would ensure it if you testify at the board meeting. Arasaka always rewards loyalty.”

“I know that’s some rhetoric you’ve been spoonfed your whole life but unfortunately I have a very different opinion on the subject of ‘who Arasaka serves’ and it most certainly isn’t people who have a history of stealing from them.” She dead panned, making Goro groan.

“If you would just listen to me you would know that is not the case. Hanako-sama has extended this life like to you V do not waste it.”

“I’ve been listening. And watching. From the very start. I’ve seen them from an angle you have yet to even comprehend and part of me fears even then you wouldn’t see the truth.”

“They are-.”

“Only in this for themselves. I won’t argue with you about this, there is nothing you can say that will change my mind. I’m not selling my souls to the fucking devil, man, I’m sorry but that’s how this situation feels to me. I know there is nothing anyone can do for me, not you, not Arasaka, not Hellman, not even Alt fucking Cunningham’s AI ghost from beyond the Blackwall knows how to undo this so fuck this. I refuse to spend the last days of my life scrambling for answers only to whither away to nothin and die anyway. I’m leaving this hellhole on my own fucking terms. So just let it go. Just forget about me and go back to your cushty little life as Arasaka’s cheerleader or body guard or whatever the fuck it is you do.”

She couldn’t remember how, but during the course of their verbal spat, he had pushed her against the adjacent wall from the door and upon hearing her retorts he snarled in frustration and slammed his hand into the wall beside her head, denting the already disintegrating plaster, sending a cloud of dust in the air around them. The pluming cloud fluttered and caught the small rays of morning light seeping through the crags and cracks in the windows and walls of the abandoned gas station. She managed to push him off with a forceful shove only to have him lunge back to her. His martial arts clashed with her own brand of badlands fist fighting. She was flexible, contorting her body out of his reach before rounding on him with a left hook followed by a hasty jab aimed for his face. Unfortunately, he had reach, countering her wild strikes with a wave of his arm and tugging her to him. She lifted her knee between them to vault herself from his grasp but lost her footing at the end and it took only a single low sweeping kick to her other leg that sent her off kilter, but Goro followed her to the ground where he pinned again, this time on the floor with both her hands above her in each of his. She struggled against his vice grip, twisting and squirming beneath him to roll him off but he refused to be moved barely even flinching as she thrashed beneath him, awaiting her to finally stop. She roared in frustration but refused to give up. If she couldn’t knock him with her strength then she could knock him with her words.

“Hanako knew!” She spat at him, the intensity of her glare ripping though him.

“Knew what?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

“She knew it was Yorinobu who murdered her father. She knew you were telling the truth, that you were being framed and she still let you go down. Then guess what the kicker here is?” She laughed bitterly. “Saburo’s not even dead. He’s being kept as an engram, he’s been planning something with Hanako this whole time and they were going to let you go down regardless!! They were going to discard you, who served them faithfully your whole life, for their own fucking agenda. So tell me, why you think for one fucking second that they will actually help me?” Takemura was quiet, his hold on her waining enough for her to flip them, her hands balled into his shirt begging him to look at her but it was as if something had been shattered in him. They both were panting from their verbal and martial exchange, but they were far from done.

He suddenly reached up, his hand cupping her cheek gently, tracing the cybernetics of her face with the tips of his fingers before pulling her down to him without warning, his lips finally met hers in a heated kiss.

She gasped into his mouth, giving him the chance to shove his tongue in to explore her. He didn’t know when he would get the chance, if he ever would again after this. But she had yet to bite his face off so he took that as a good sign. In fact she had nearly gone limp from the shock of his sudden advance. He pulled away slowly, his face still inches from hers but his eyes bored into hers with a renewed intensity.

She pulled her hand from his now loosened grip and reached down gently and placed a delicate hand on his cheek, only for him to lean into it with closed eyes. He pressed his own hand over hers and took a deep calming breath.

“Goro, look at me.”

His eyes opened again, staring down at her with so much hope yet one word from her could shatter him into a thousand shards. And fate was a cruel mistress.

“I’m going home.” He looked down at that, his brow tugged in an unreadable expression but she chased after his gaze and held his chin so he had no choice but to stare wordlessly at her.

“I’m going home. To the people I love. To say goodbye. And maybe... maybe, for once in my life just try to do some good in this world, not for eddies or cred or some fucking illusion of grandeur, but just to do something worthwhile. I want have something real. Before I... before I can’t anymore.” She stroked his cheekbone with the back of her knuckle. “I don’t expect you to understand. But it isn’t up for debate.” Not what he had wanted to hear, but the finality in her words left him no room to argue. And so he was then left to stare down the inevitable horribleness of a world with no V.

He rested his face in the crook of her neck, her soft sun kissed skin, slick with sweat from the desert heat.

“Then let me have this at least.” He whispered against her, causing her to shiver under the weight of his words.

He returned his lips to hers, an even more energised passion driving his need and to his surprise she returned it, hands cupping his face gently. She then pushed him back down on his back and dove back to his lips. He began unbuttoning and loosening her clothes as fast as his hands could allow him. He pulled off her tank top and stopped a moment to admire her perky little breasts before pulling her back to him and lavishing her chest adoringly with bites and kisses that made her mewl against him.

“You have been taunting me since the day we met. Not wearing anything but that tight blue netrunner suit.” He growled against her chest, biting at the underside of her breast, his eyes primal and burning hers with an unspoken need to be closer.

“I’m a net runner you gonk, ah-!” He bit a little harsher around her nipple at the comment but lapped at it gently afterwards. “I-it was for practicality’s sake.” She shivered against him.

“It was to torture me.” He chuckled.

He lifted them suddenly, his hands under her thighs again as he deposited her on a near by countertop, her legs wrapping around his hips as he ground himself desperately into her while trailing his lips from her ear lobe to her jugular and back before biting then tugging sharply causing her to yelp softly.

“Maybe a little.” She gasped, casting him a delighted grin which elicited a growl from deep within his chest. He leisurely ran his hands along the hem of her jeans, tugging at them slightly before slipping his hand down underneath to grab a handful of her ass, squeezing it appreciatively before moaning at how soft and pliant her skin was under the extra sensitive touch of his cybernetic hands. He allowed himself to become lost in her for a moment. Mapping her every contour in his mind, committing each breathless sound that fell from her lips to memory, savouring her sweet breath on his tongue and wondering if he would ever again taste something so perfect as her. He felt her pull away lightly, a few centimetres from his face to gasp for a breath and still his lips chased hers. It was as if she could read his mind sometimes, she was looking at him with those confounding purple eyes, her smile faltering as if she could see how banefully torn he was.

“This won’t change anything.” She whispered sadly against his lips .

His brow creased under the weight of his anguish, another growl, not so carnal as before but instead a roar of frustration and he attacked her body with a new found, punishing fervour. He pulled her up effortlessly once again and threw her into the cot, her body’s weight caused the springs to groan and he had managed to discard his shirt fully, then turned to her. She was now only in her underwear, her golden skin glistened in the low orange morning haze. Her body was lithe yet athletic, her skin tantalisingly smooth to the touch yet disturbed by stray scars scattered about her person. Her years of fighting for her survival in this hellscape had shaped her and moulded her into this picturesque model of strength and beauty. He kneeled before her, nipping his way down her navel to the hem of her panties that he then quickly slid off in one fluid motion. He dove between her legs, basking in the sweet gasps she made as he drove her wild with his tongue. Her hands twisted and twined themselves into his ebony and silver locks, pulling his bun loose to let his hair cascade down his shoulders, grazing her nails over his scalp delicately. He introduced a single finger to her and pumped deeply inside her yet at a controlled pace, eliciting another quivering gasp that made him smile against her.

“Goro...” the way her breathless lips formed around his name drove something in him. She was able to bring out the strangest and most wonderful of feelings in him.

He was sure from her cries she was nearing her climax and before she could taste the sweet precipice of her release, he rose up to kiss her. Her taste on his lips had a lewd yet arousing effect on her, but her climax, once so tantalisingly close was now receding and the heat biting and curling in her abdomen made her squirm against him. She pulled away after a moment and gasped a quick breath.

“You ass.” He pressed his face into her neck again and she felt the rumble of his chuckling. He continued to kiss her neck and his hands pinched and rolled her nipples in a torturously teasing manner. She writhed under him, a mewling mess.

“Stop teasing me.” She pleaded, her own hands cupping either side of his face to pull him from his ministrations on her neck that she was almost certain would be bruised to absolute fuck in the morning.

He nudged her legs to open and she obliged eagarly.

He teased her entrance lightly running his tip up and down coating himself in her essence before sliding steadily inside of her. He had to stop half way and swallowed a guttural moan. She was so tight. Like a warm vice pulling him further inside her and dragging him impossibly closer to her. Her legs had wrapped around his hips, her thighs quivering around his girth. He took another moment to make some experimental, shallow thrusts and groaned once more at how deliciously slick she was.

“Oh... V...” his forehead pressed against hers and his grip around her hips tightened.

“Don’t.... stop...” she was barely above a whisper, which made Goro want nothing more than for her to be louder.

He took this as his moment to flip her onto her stomach against the cot.

His right hand held both her arms behind her back, folded and solidly trapped there. His left hand was holding her hip, dragging down to guide her over his girth once again. He rather enjoyed the view of her at this angle, he was so lost in the way she bounced against him, the feeling of her walls rubbing so exquisitely against his length, that he was sure he wouldn’t last long. The thought of having their tryst cut so short however did not appeal to him, the feeling of being fully encased by her was so unequivocally amazing he never wanted it to stop, so he forced himself to slow down to a languid yet laborious pace, favouring drawn out leisurely strokes.

“Jesus Christ...” she gasped, arching her back in a way that made him want to go back to pounding her within an inch of her life but he was controlled, no foolish young man driven by a cardinal need, but a mature and tentative lover who wanted to make his partner see the stars before this was over.

He reached around, dragging his hands from the underside of her bellybutton to glide along her ribs, up and over her breast, giving it an appreciative squeeze before cradling her throat gently and turning her head to look back at him as much as she could in the position which granted wasn’t much. He leaned forward, still thrusting inside her at a restrained pace, and ravaged her neck, suckling the flesh at the junction of her shoulder and neck before trailing his bites to the underside of her jaw, then to her ear where he nibbled her lobe gently.

“Tell me what you want.” He breathed against her, the lewd sound of their bodies meeting in their primal dance and the soft gushes of wind rattling the shutters were all she could hear above their own crescendo of panting and haggard moans.

“Don’t... be a dick...” she gasped, earning her a sharp smack on her ass cheek.

“Tell me.” He thrust inside her, harder but not hard enough to satisfy her fully, leaving her trembling for more.

“Ah... fuck! Please...” she breathed, trying to shove her own hips back into his for more friction but his hand migrated back to her hips, a solid anchor, preventing her from getting her way.

“That’s not what I asked you.” She could hear the underlying cockiness in his tone and it pissed her off almost immediately.

How could this man illicit such polarising reactions from her, she thought. One moment she wanted him to bend her over a desk, the next she wanted to snap him in two. But the sentiment remained, she wanted him.

“Please... Goro... fuck me... harder...” he hummed in satisfaction and released her arms from his vice grip.

“Then I suggest you hold onto something.” He had leaned forward his lips against her ear, the vibrations of his bassy timbre tickled her in an irresistibly tantalising way.

But her inward musings came to a hault when he began his unforgiving pace, she could feel him hitting her cervix with every thrust and she cried out, hands barely holding on to the edge of the cot as her body rocked against the force of his hips.

His hand came down to tease her slit, circling her sensitive nub in a maddeningly delicious way that caused more mewls to erupt from her lips.

Goro stared down at her, enraptured by every twist and twitch she made. Her arching back defining her musculature and he’d be lying if he was doing any better than her right now. He was holding on for dear life, dragging this out for as long as he possibly could. But eventually, the warmth and curling in his abdomen could not be ignored and he quickened his circling around her clit to drive her to her end. She screamed softly into her hand as her release rolled over her in wave after wave, his continuing thrusts helping her ride out her climax to its fullest. He followed her soon after, nearly collapsing on her, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades as he struggled to regain his breathing. She recovered before Goro and pulled him further onto the cot where they crumbled into it. He curled around her, his arms pulling her flush against him as he savoured the feeling of her skin on his. He pressed his nose and lips to the top of her head, inhaling her scent deeply, attempting to sear these details into his mind for a later date. He tried his best to keep his eyes open, but she began to stroke his chest in a soothing circle, and before he knew it he was out like a light.

——————

He woke with a jolt, the room now completely darkened by the night and a sudden anxiety disquieted his mind. He reached for where V had been but his hand grabbed nothing but empty space.

“V?” He called, sitting up and listening for anything, then scanning the area. He could see from his thermal scan she had been gone from his side for nearly two hours.

He pulled himself up, dressing quickly and wrenching the front door open to see that her Thorton was gone, whatever tracks that were left had been swallowed by the desert wind and he stood in silence.

“This isn’t going to change anything.” Her words echoed in his mind and he clenched his hands into fists, a slight shake evident from his barely controlled emotions on the cusp of breaking through to the surface.

“They were going to discard you, who served them faithfully your whole life, for their own fucking agenda.”

He tried to quell his anger, his hurt, his inescapable feeling of betrayal. He fought to keep his composure but the memory of her touch was seared into his mind and body yet it did nothing but only make him ache to have her back in his arms. He would never feel that again, never experience that intense, intrinsic connection to another human being. The thought did nothing to disquiet his mind. Eventually he broke and turned to punch his hand nearly completely though the wall of the garage as he breathed in ragged and strangled chokes. Unshed tears burned in his eyes and he wrenched his arm back to completely break through the wall altogether with the force of his strike. He didn’t stop. He pummelled the wall until his cybernetics were scuffed and cracked. Warning signs flashed in his peripheral vision but he ignored them, slumping to the ground he cradled his head in his hands and roared in futility. He stayed there a moment, still, quiet and thoughtful. He raised his head with a thud against the nearly dilapidated wall and he looked off into the distance. On one path, the further reaches of the badlands, down another was the fluorescent and blinding lights of Night City, beaconing him back with a curled finger.

And not just night city, but the ominous red looming glow of Arasaka Headquarters illuminating the night and further banishing the stars. The only life he had ever known was within Arasaka’s ranks. All he had ever been was a vassal, a loyal one at that. Traded his life and limbs for them. Let them carve him into an instrument of their empire from the moment they had deigned to elevate him from the slums, only after he had skinned his fingers to the near bone scrubbing his clothes in the chemical sickened canals. He had given Arasaka his life.

Yet Hanako knew he was innocent. Not only her but Saburo, his lord tono, his idol. He had known. It stung him to his nucleus, like nothing ever had. He was stilled, inaction gripping him to his core. He found his gaze always defecting back to the badlands. To her lands. He didn’t make a choice so much as follow an instinct.

He rose from his seated position and opened the door to his car, looking back at Night City one last time, not saying goodbye to the city, but farewell to all the possibilities it held. They were not meant for him. A defiant grin stretched over his lips before a determination set in his eyes, looking back to the badlands. He dove into the front seat and revved the engine before backing out to the edge of the main road and quickly pivoting into position then tearing out onto the dusty highway, sending a plume of dust in his wake as he made for the badlands, his spirit lightened and rejuvenated. He undid his top shirt buttons, ripping off the front Arasaka logo to his cybernetic neck plates and throwing it with a quick flick out the car window, then looking down at the Arasaka patch logo on his arm which he also tore from his jacket then sent it too flying out the window. With each metre he put between him and the city, the younger he felt.

“I’m coming V.” He whispered under his breath as he pressed harder on the gas.

#goro takemura #cyberpunk 2077 #takemura x v

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