#not recon and information gathering though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bobgasm · 4 months

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good girl | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader word count: 3978 warnings: mild idiots to lovers, smut, nsfw [18+ only], unprotected sex, semi-public sex, dirty talk,

summary: in which you have a chat with bob that doesn’t go the way you intended it to, but he more than makes up for it

author’s note: happy birthday to my bby lewis! 🥳♥️ best to read the snappening first 🤭 if you want to be notified when i post, follow and turn on post notifications for @bobgasm-library 😁

the snappening | masterlist | awards season

You hate that your alarm is waking you at 5 am. You hate that you got super drunk last night. Mostly, you hate that you crossed a line with Bob. You didn’t know what the day held in store for you, but a chat about what happened was inevitable.

You groaned as you slid into the shower and tried to wash the disgusting feeling from your body.

The plan was simple. You’d arrive at work early and get settled for the day, then disappear to grab coffee once everyone had arrived. It meant that you could delay the chat with Bob temporarily, giving you time to stew over the situation instead of tackling it head on.

Yeah, this grown-up shit was so easy.

You got settled at your desk and grinned at the email that had been flagged. It was a mission briefing for Bob and Phoenix, so you stopped into your boss’ office to let him know. Haywire was a hard man to work for, but as his assistant, you made it work.

Haywire appreciated the information – he hadn’t yet checked his computer, but he knew about the mission. As his assistant, you had a high security clearance, but more importantly, his trust. He relied on you to ask the questions a lot of people wouldn’t typically ask a superior, either out of nerves or fear. It was expected of you to sit in on mission briefings for that exact reason – Haywire liked his pilots to be well informed of any and all risks.

This mission briefing wouldn’t be any different. As you left, he made the call to Phoenix and Bob, so you headed down the hall to prepare some coffee and try to gather your bearings. He wasn’t even here yet, but the memories of last night had your toes curling and heat warming your cheeks.

Your heart roared in your ears as you looked up and saw Bob walking in through the doors. He gave you a polite nod and smile, but you weren’t even expecting that. You gave him a small smile back, taking in his appearance.

He wore his flight suit, and Phoenix fell into step beside him. You knew they likely had an early morning training scheduled, which had now been delayed by this new mission briefing. You stopped yourself before you got caught staring, but he smirked at you like he knew. Like he knew where your mind had drifted to, even if it was for a fleeting moment.

You held his gaze, refusing to back down, and watched them disappear into Haywire’s office. You collected a few mugs from the cupboard in anticipation of Haywire calling out for two more, already one step ahead of him. He caught sight of the four mugs lined up, met your eye, and quickly provided his help to carry them all back to the office before starting the briefing.

You sat beside Haywire’s desk, legs crossed as you sipped your coffee and tried to avoid looking at Bob. It was inevitable though. By the time your eyes settled on his face, he was already looking at you.

Your head was swimming as you replayed the videos from last night in your head. The sounds he made.

Good girl.

Fuck. You squeezed your legs together at the thought. The thought that he actually wanted you the way you wanted him, and that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking. That you hadn’t just risked your livelihood for the sake of an orgasm.

You tried to focus on the mission briefing as Haywire talked, handing out folders to both Bob and Phoenix. They both wore stoic expressions, listening intently to what was needed of them. Haywire outlined the importance of their mission – recon only. They were going in with no backup which was risky, but the images they had of the site were dated.

“Our next move will be to send a SEAL team in once we’ve got a better visual of the site,” Haywire proceeded. “Those men will be your backup.”

“But no air support,” you countered. “What if the site has grown and they’ve got an updated defense system? It’s a suicide mission.”

“It’s the mission,” Haywire replied.

“Would you take the same risk if you’d been given the mission instead?” You asked him. “Are you really willing to let two people be shot out of the sky and killed, or taken hostage? The SEAL team is only good if there’s hostages to rescue, but how long until they get the green light to move in? Assuming they’re still alive, of course, or would that be another recon mission determining that?”

Phoenix and Bob both shifted uncomfortably. You could only assume they’d been thinking along the same lines.

The choice was simple, and Haywire made the correct one. He called his superior, Admiral Shaw, who’d sent down the mission briefing. Why he wasn’t present for it was a mystery, but Phoenix and Bob seemed a little less tense after hearing your words being repeated to someone who would actually go to bat for them.

When Haywire ended the call by promptly slamming the phone home, you jumped a little. Startled by the dramatics.

“They’ll get back to us with updates,” Haywire said. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenants.”

You stuck around in the office for a minute once Bob and Phoenix left, letting Haywire debrief you on what the plan was. Your questioning had brought up some very good points that needed addressing, and his superiors would figure it out. He thanked you and dismissed you, hoping it didn’t take them long to figure out the semantics of the briefing.

“Why are you so jumpy today?” Phoenix asked you. You shot her a cautiative look as you waited for Bob to get far enough away. “Does it have something to do with Bob?”

You huffed. “You’re too observant for your own good,” you stated, dragging her down the hallway and pushing her inside an empty office. “I’m only telling you this because you have a secret of your own that you don’t want to get out.”

You paused as you watched her try to swallow the lump in her throat. Yeah, you knew she had a thing going on with Coyote. How you’d found that out was need to know.

“I accidentally sent him a video of me masturbating last night. I was hoping to try and avoid him, but that’s not going so well,” you explained, pressing your hands into your eyes to try and quell the headache you were starting to develop.

“Did he watch it?”

“Yes, and sent his own back,” you said, blowing out a deep breath. “I’m freaking out. I can’t avoid this conversation forever. I just…I don’t think it’s a conversation to be had before your mission, you know?”

You didn’t hold your breath. Even your own words sounded like lies to your ears.

+++

By the time lunch came around, you were anxious. Heading to the dining hall on base to meet with Phoenix like usual, hoping she wouldn’t ask for any further information about the Bob situation. You planned on keeping it to the more important shit, like the mission they were going on. You even anticipated a question or two thrown your way, so prepared a couple to ask her instead.

Thankfully, lunch was a standard affair. Phoenix sat with another couple of pilots who you knew and greeted warmly, making yourself comfortable at the table and engaging in friendly conversation.

Bob lingered off to the side of the cafeteria. You caught his eye and he nodded his head slightly, gesturing for you to follow him.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stood up and followed him without a glance back at Phoenix or the other pilots. Trailing behind Bob with as much dignity as you could muster before steeling yourselves away in the privacy of an empty office.

“Hi,” he said sweetly. You couldn’t resist rolling your eyes, making him laugh. “Yeah, I know, but I never actually said it this morning and, truthfully, I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you all day.”

“Hi,” you replied, giving him a small smile. You couldn’t help it. Whenever he smiled you felt the need to reciprocate, even if it wasn’t aimed at you, but it was amazing when it was. “I’ve been doing the same, honestly. I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded in understanding, resting back against the desk. Not quite sitting, but not quite standing either. Hands resting in his lap, with one ankle crossed over the other.

“I need you to hear what I’m not saying,” he told you. You nodded slowly in understanding. “I can’t do anything while we work together. I know how much you like your job here, just like I like mine. While there’s nothing to say that interpersonal relationships aren’t allowed, they’re not exactly welcomed unless you’re married.”

You hummed, once again nodding slowly. “So it’s business as normal, right?” You asked, following his train of thought.

“As normal as it gets around here,” he said.

You nodded. “Do you regret that it happened?”

“No, not at all. Do you?” You shook your head. “I’m not trying to make this awkward.”

“Don’t worry, I’m doing a good job of that myself,” you replied, earning a small chuckle. “I should…go. Lots to do today.”

“It doesn’t need to be like this.”

“It does, Bob,” you stated. “At least for now, anyway, because this isn’t exactly welcomed.”

He sighed as you slipped out of the office. You hadn’t meant to throw his words back at him, you knew his heart was in the right place, but he was only delaying the conversation further. Who knows what this week would have in store for you, but you just hoped that their mission went off without a hitch.

After lunch you went straight back to work, responding to some emails before you were dragged into a meeting with Haywire. You kept minutes while the men talked about other classified missions. You did your best to keep up with the chatter, but the conversation was hectic. Everyone spoke overtop of one another and you could barely register who said what.

And then you started thinking about the situation with Bob.

Had you blown it, with your actions of the previous night and your passive aggressiveness towards him earlier? You knew he was only thinking of your job, and you did appreciate that. But you’d gotten yourself into this situation, too. You could decide how to play this out, you didn’t need to rely on him.

Yet you hadn’t said that to him when you had the chance. You hid behind your cowardice and let him decide how it was going to work. Let him call the shots, and for what? Because you were too scared to lose your job, or too scared to lose him?

The meeting dragged on, but you slipped out when a few of the men did the same, essentially ending the meeting. Lou kept you company as you typed up the minutes before disappearing into Haywire’s office. He’d apparently gotten a call about the new mission briefing that enlisted extra air support and a few extra contingency plans. In not so many words, all the Daggers were now being sent on this mission, which filled you with a lot more confidence. And, no doubt, did the same for Phoenix and Bob.

You tried to finish up the email you’d been working on for Lou, but you had to ask him a question about it before you sent it. Sighing, you reached for your bottle of water and took a few sips, allowing yourself a moment to relax.

It wasn’t long before all of the Daggers showed up and headed into Haywire’ office. He hadn’t asked you to sit in, so you stayed put until he called for you.

You exhaled heavily and slumped back in your seat, wishing the day would just end already. When Haywire eventually called for you, you stood in the doorway since there were already six extra bodies in the room.

“The reason you’re all here is because of that woman there,” Haywire said. “She pointed out flaws in Bob and Phoenix’s mission, which has caused me more work today trying to get approval to send air support. This is where the rest of you come in.”

Haywire spent the next twenty minutes outlining the new mission parameters, as well as answering any questions the aviators had.

“So we get to work with SEAL’s?” Hangman asked.

You rolled your eyes at his enthusiasm, noting how Bob stifled a laugh.

“Not directly. The SEAL team is four days from the location. You’ll be moving out in two days at 1600 hours in order for them to be in position when you do your flyby.”

He continued to bring the rest of the team up to speed. Detailing exactly how this mission would be flown and everything they’d be needing to do. This was still very much Phoenix and Bob’s mission, but now they had support. They weren’t as nervous to fly this mission knowing they had immediate backup.

You excused yourself before the meeting was over to take a phone call at your desk, explaining that you’d get Haywire to call them back when he was free.

When Lou came back out, you picked his brain to finalise the email before sending it, then made a beeline to the bathroom. You didn’t need to go, not really, but you locked yourself in a stall and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. Hoping that by the time you made it back to your desk, the Daggers wouldn’t be in Haywire’s office anymore and you didn’t have to see Bob.

You felt so frustrated by the situation you’d made for yourself. Frustrated that you’d let this happen. You took a few deep breaths before emerging, washing your hands just for a reason to stay in there a little bit longer.

By the time you made it back to your desk, a few people had started to leave. They’d be back in the early hours of the morning, ready to make a start on whatever was needed before the carrier took off in the next few days.

When the clock hit 5, you took Phoenix up on her offer of dinner and waited for her outside the barracks. Barely five minutes had passed before Bob was hollering your name down the hallway.

You slowly turned around and saw him beckon you towards Coyote’s room. With a sigh, you walked down the hallway with as much confidence as you could muster.

“You told Phoenix?” He asked you.

“Like she’s a saint here,” you replied, staring between her and Coyote.

“You told her?” Coyote asked in horror.

You were all in similar stages of distress and you felt backed into a corner. So you laughed. You laughed because how the hell had you all found yourself in similar situations? Bob soon joined in, and before you knew it, Phoenix and Coyote had too.

It was ridiculous. Of course it was. And it was awkward as hell, so you laughed your way out of it. Swiping at your eyes as the laughter died down and you were soon pinned beneath Bob’s gaze.

“Dinner tonight?” He asked. “Please say ‘yes.’”

“Yeah,” you agreed stupidly. “I’ve got a couple things to finish up but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’ll keep you company.” He grabbed his coffee before you both left, leaving Coyote and Phoenix to deal with their own mess. “Do you actually have much to do or was that just an excuse to get out of there?”

“I have shit to do but it can wait until tomorrow,” you told him, packing up your things you’d left outside Phoenix’s room. “Where do you want to go?”

“There’s a hole-in-the-wall Italian place not too far away,” he replied, digging his hand into his pocket. His keys jingled, and you gave a nod. “I’ll drive.”

You followed him outside, watching your feet rather than staring at his back like you wanted to. When you reached his car, you slid into the passenger seat. Swiftly buckling your seat belt as he did the same and turned the engine over.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he apologised. “About how I chose to handle things.”

“By passing the blame onto the fraternisation policy?” You asked, just to clarify. You turned your head enough to look at him, glad he at least looked ashamed about it.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “The truth is that I was trying to buy more time to figure out what I really wanted to say.”

“Have you figured that out now?”

“Yes,” he replied, letting silence wash over you.

“Okay? Are you going to share with the class or make me guess?”

He chuckled softly. “I thought it was obvious.”

“I want to hear you say it, Bob.”

Your heart thundered in your ears as he spoke, “I want you. I have for…god, too long now. I don’t even care if that initial video wasn’t intended for me, because you moaned my name as you came and it was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

The car was parked in the back of a parking lot, away from the strip of restaurants to your left. You’d been too busy watching him, staring at him. Admiring the way his arms flexed as he rolled the steering wheel between his hands. The way his mouth moved as he talked…telling you everything you wanted to hear.

“It’s not the first time,” you confessed, voice low. So low he turned to look at you and you could see the lust clouding his vision. The way his eyelids drooped slightly as he took in your heady expression. “I imagine you every time.”

“Get in the back,” he told you, and you were quick to scramble into the back seat, over the centre console. He followed behind you, lifting you up with little effort and settling you down in his lap.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, and you placed your own on his chest. Feeling his heart racing beneath your touch. Because of your touch. Because of the implications of what was to come.

“Kiss me, Bob,” you requested, running your hands through his short hair. He leant forward and closed the gap, lips pressed firmly against yours.

You melted into his touch, kissing him back without hesitation. His fingers lifted your shirt, skimming up along your sides. You moaned at his light touch, goosebumps raising on your flesh. He bit down on your lip in response, feeling you shift against him.

He groaned as you tugged his hair. “You gonna be a good girl and ride me?”

You rolled your hips against him one more time, feeling his growing erection pressed against your core.

“Fuck you for calling me ‘good girl,’” you said.

He chuckled, brushing some hair back from your face. “But you are,” he said softly, breathily. “And I want you to ride me.”

There was something about the way he looked at you so carnally, like an animal staring down its prey, that had you removing your shirt without a second thought. You wanted him so badly, in any way you could get him. You didn’t care you were currently both trying to undress in the back of his car, or that anyone could walk by at any time.

Both of you in varying states of undress, Bob stroking his cock as you straddled his lap once again. Sliding his hand between your thighs, a breathy moan falling past your lips.

“So fucking wet for me, baby,” he said, pressing two thick fingers inside your heat. You groaned at the intrusion, hands gripping his shoulders as he worked you over. Making sure his fingers were nice and slick before wrapping them around his cock again and positioning his tip at your entrance.

He gripped your hips as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. He bit his lip, eyes glued to where the two of you were connected. You whimpered at the angle, at the feeling of him finally inside you after years of fantasising.

“So deep,” you panted. “Fuck, Bob.”

He groaned as you rolled your hips, cunt clenching around him. “Knew you’d be so tight…so fucking wet. Feels like heaven, baby.”

You gasped as he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, over the top of your bra. Hands wound into his hair as you rocked your hips, lifting and sinking rhythmically.

His teeth grazed against the taut nub he was suckling on before paying the same attention to your other breast. You gasped and threw your head back, scratching your nails against his scalp.

He moaned, the vibrations coursing through your body. Your hips rocked a little harder against him, gasping at the tightness in your lower abdomen. He watched you lower your hand between your bodies, two fingers circling your clit and bringing you that much closer to your high.

“I didn’t say you could cum, baby girl,” he warned you.

“Please, Bob!” You whined. He gripped your ass, holding you up and refusing to let you keep going. “Fuck, please.”

“Please what?” He asked you. You pressed your forehead to his, a whimper falling past your lips.

“Please…wanna cum on your cock,” you begged. “Thought you wanted to feel me come undone around your cock, Bobby?”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I do. But if you cum like this I’m not gonna be able to pull out.”

“So don’t,” you told him, taking his face between your hands. “Wanna feel you finish inside me, Bob.”

He kissed you roughly, teeth clashing as his tongue invaded your mouth. You moaned as his fingertips dug into your hips, his own snapping up as he fucked you.

You tugged at his hair, or pawed at his chest. So close to your orgasm, wanting to touch yourself. Wanting to tease your clit until you came all over his cock. Until he had you chanting his name and memorising the way he felt inside you. The way he made you feel.

The way you wanted him to continue making you feel, even when things went back to normal. Especially then.

“Fuck yes, squeeze my cock just like that,” he goaded, head thrown back as your cunt tightened and your body started quivering. “Feels so fucking good, baby. So fucking tight.”

“I wanna cum, Bob,” you pleaded. “Wanna cum all over your cock. Wanna feel you filling me up.”

He grunted, thrusts becoming harsher. His hand smacking your ass roughly as you matched his pace. You slipped your hand between your bodies once again, toying with your clit. Winding that coil so tight within your abdomen that you didn’t realise you were cumming until you collapsed into him. His hips thrusting upwards, grunting once, twice, three times before he stilled. Holding you close as he came undone inside you.

You wanted to stay wrapped in him forever, but your body felt like jelly and he was still talking to you.

“Such a good girl riding me, baby,” he said, lightly stroking your back. “Knew you’d feel so good wrapped around my cock. Such a pretty little thing, fucking hell.”

You hummed, lips pressed against his neck. Feeling his pulse beating rapidly against your mouth, chests flush together and bodies still connected.

“You feel so good, Bob, so right,” you told him, drunk off the post-coital euphoria. “Don’t want this to end. Don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised you. You lifted your head to look at him and he smoothed your hair back from your face. “I wanna take you home. Can I take you home?”

“Yeah, take me home.”

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #international bob floyd fucks month #ibff #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut

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phantom-0-writer · 1 month

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short 3: operation mousetrap

table of contents ao3

Nightwing’s eyes glazed over the case file he had already memorized as they made their way to the scene of their mission. Superboy fidgeted in the seat next to him, untempered. It had taken Nightwing and Robin (mostly Nightwing), and M’gaan almost the whole pre-mission briefing to convince Superboy to not just fly there, and actually take the bio-ship with them. He could empathize though. When Young Justice had first formed unofficially on their unsanctioned mission to CADMUS to, eventually, break Superboy out of his cloning pod the Justice League along with the bandit of misfits the Young Justice team was at the time had done everything they could and expended every resource to track and shut down anymore similar projects. Unfortunately and fortunately, Konner had been the only one to be stable enough to survive outside of the cloning pod, and since CADMUS had been permanently shut down there would be no more cloning projects (from them at least).

Or so they thought.

A mission that the Teen Titans were on almost a month ago had given them a tip off that there were still more CADMUS research operations happening. According to the files and research they had gathered, which, granted, wasn't as much as they would've liked, it seemed like there was something about this specific branch that had been different than the ones they had been tracking down after finding Konner. That had been the explanation to why they were only finding out about them now, years after they had thought they’d seen the last of them. Batman wasn't happy to be blindsided like that. And neither were they. Konner, naturally, had taken it the worst. Practically begged to be on the mission even though it’s not his usual modus operandi. Nightwing suspected that he felt some kind of responsibility to see it through, which as illogical as it may be, he understood where Konner was coming from.

So here they were, Nightwing (Since Batman couldn't oversee it himself), Superboy (As previously stated), Robin (Teen Titan representative of choice) and Miss Martian headed towards the new CADMUS location in an intense silence. The mission was sanctioned as a recon mission, the objective was to not to be seen so they could bug their systems and find out just how much of CADMUS they had overlooked. Hence the two bats and a martian that could go intangible. Cyborg was on standby at the Watchtower in case his expertise was required, Robin could put him through. CADMUS dabbled in a lot more than just clones, so the team was surely in for a surprise.

Nightwing was confident it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

They kept in the shadows, Miss Martian connecting them telepathically as they split up. She headed off with Robin to the main control room, Nightwing stuck with Superboy as they got eyes on whatever was afoot here. Superboy easily fell into Nightwing’s lead, leaving minimal traces of their presence.

‘We’re clear.’ Robin informed them that he and Miss Martian had successfully reached the control room, ‘I’m tapping into the mainframe; downloading and in process.’

‘Were you seen?’ Nightwing asked back, hotwiring the security panel for one of the doors marked Authorized Access Only (that translates to “you should probably check this out” in vigilante speak).

‘Negative.’ Miss Martian echoed back.

‘It tell you what we're up for?’ Superboy asked, as the door silently opened. Nightwing stopped him from entering so he could scan the area for laser, boobie (heh) traps and other such sensors. All clear.

‘Systems scanning. Will update. Over.’ Robin said curtly, likely busy getting past the security without ringing any alarms.

‘Heading into an access point. Still clear. Over.’ Nightwing reported, as their communication line went quiet but the light buzz the connection gave still echoed in his scalp.

The lack of guards was concerning to say the least. The building wasn’t abandoned, there were still people going about. But they had all been in lab coats doing things that people that wore lab coats in shady underground operations did, not security going around securing the place. Even the access point hadn’t had any sensors that hotwiring couldn’t dismantle. Nightwing knew enough about CADMAS operations to know that this wasn’t how CADMUS operated. Knowing better than to hope for the best he told Superboy to keep his guard up, trusting Robin to come to the same conclusion as him.

They surveyed the access point. They had managed to get pretty deep into the building so there was sure to be something juicy in here. Weapons of mass destruction, an unnamed virus that could kill on impact, neo-Armegedon. All in previous case files stored under CADMUS along with superhero cloning. Nightwing was relatively certain he wouldn’t be finding any more cloning attempts, which had been the core of what they had been searching for during the first CADMUS eradication operations. Looked into all the big pharmas connects and everything. Crazy how far a name like “Wayne” could take you.

So imagine Nightwing’s surprise when Superboy calls him over while he’s snooping through the on hand files in the large room to see what all the freaky green bio-substance in the rows and rows of mason jars were supposed to be for and he sees an all to familiar pod. A pod that might even be referred to as a cloning pod. There was a kid inside, male, estimated age 7-10. It was always hard to tell ages with clones. Skin tone was hard to tell in the green of the liquid he was basking in, but it looked tan - melatonin tan, kid probably never got a lick of Vitamin D in his life. His hair was white in some parts and black in others, kinda like a zebra. Or was dalmatian a better reference? His umbilical cord was still attached- or something that served as one, if he were to guess. Nightwing couldn’t see where it led to as it disappeared into the ceiling.

“We gotta get him out.” Superboy said through clenched teeth. Nightwing couldn’t imagine the memories going through his head. His hand went for the control panel before Nightwing stopped him.

Superboy looked like he wanted to put up a fight so Nightwing was quick to explain, “We don’t know if he’s stable enough to not be in there. If you open it, or wake him or whatever- you could kill him. You need to think about this objectively, Superboy.” The anger didn’t dissipate but Nightwing trusted the nod of understanding he received and released his arm. “Clones don’t usually have an umbilical cord.” Nightwing noted, “They must’ve tried a new recipe.” Tuning back into Miss Martian's mental link, ‘Rob. You find anything yet?’

‘The information’s coded, Cyborg and I are working on it. But all I’ve found so far is not looking good.’ There was a beat of silence, and Nightwing’s chest twisted in anticipation. ‘They have a project Grayson.’

‘What?’ Nightwing ‘Are you sure it’s not just a coincidence.’ Superboy’s eyes snapped to Nightwing who turned to look at the boy in the cloning tube and wondered if his eyes would be blue when (if) he opened them. The memory of his own parents telling him the trails of his birth flashed in his head. His mother couldn’t conceive, so they’d found a doctor to help. He’d been a test-tube baby. At Least until he was old enough to be in a womb. He knew how it worked. And he knew that both his parents had to get harvested for it. Considering who they were dealing with, it wasn’t impossible their samples weren’t stolen.

‘Codename: P40-N10; Attempt 16: Project Grayson.’ Robin recited ‘That’s all I got so far.’

‘Robin, we're getting company.’ Miss Martian's voice said, alarmed.

With a curse Robin ended the conversation. If they found Red Robin and Miss Martian then it wouldn’t be long until guards came by their alley either. Quickly Nightwing tapped the computer screen that most likely connected to the kid’s suspension chamber. Superboy made himself useful looking through the paper trail stored in the shelves, since he could read faster than the average human. Robin was right about the coded information, trying to bypass whatever software they were using a pinprick he hadn’t been expecting poked through Nightwing’s glove drawing only a drop of blood.

That can’t be good.

The computer screen shifted to the loading sign, force-freezing any other on going processing for whatever just popped up. Instinctively, Nightwing backed up from the screen, bracing for some kind of explosion or attack to come from somewhere. But the screen finished loading and a present icon popped up, deceptively colorful. Despite not touching the mouse, the cursor moved to the icon with an exaggerated click and the present opened with a light fanfare of digital confetti.

Operation MouseTrap: Activated.

Nightwing didn’t know what that meant, but it couldn’t be good. Before he could process what course of action he should take- optimally a self-extraction, they’d been sniffed- the glass dome encasing the kid retracts with a loud sound and the substance is drained only just fast enough to not spill over the glass.

They had been expecting them.

MouseTrap. They were mice.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

‘Rob, MM. We need to leave. Now.’ Nightwing ordered urgently. Superboy was on his feet, catching the kid from hitting the floor with a speed Nightwing couldn’t match.

“I got him. We need to cut the wire.” Superboy said, checking the boy for a pulse. Approaching them quickly, Nightwing sliced through the umbilical cord with a batarang.

‘What’s the situation?’ Robin asked,

‘We’ve got them handled on our end.’ Miss Martian reported.

‘We’ve been set-up. I’ll explain later. We need to go.’ Nightwing snapped, just as the overhead alarms started blaring. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away.

Superboy picked the boy up. “Pulse is there, but barley. He needs medical attention, fast.” He used his jacket to cover the boy, holding him to his chest as he made his way to the door they had come in from.

“It’s too risky to take him with us. They wanted us to find him, there had to have been a reason.” Nightwing stepped in his path, staying aware of potentially being approached from behind. The containers he had been looking into earlier were forgotten in their corner of the room.

“So what?” Superboy asked venomously, “We leave him here? ‘Cause he's dangerous?” A took a threatening step closer, “A threat?” Cloning projects were always a sensitive topic for all the Supers, Konner specifically. Reasons obvious.

Nightwing sighed, “No.” He looked at the child and he couldn’t help but notice the similarities. Both with himself(phenotypically) and with Konner(in every other way). “No, we can’t leave him here. But we can’t go into this headfirst.” There was a volley of footsteps approaching.

‘Nightwing. Superboy. ETA?’ Robin asked through the link.

“We could take him to Mt. Justice?” Superboy tried to offer. “Titan’s Tower?”

“Mt. Justice is a secure location, we shouldn’t risk them being able to track the kid. We’d be risking everyone that stays there.” Nightwing explained, he could hear footsteps approaching. There was a crowd of them. “And the tower wouldn’t have the proper equipment to monitor or take care of him, medically.” The option of the Bat Cave filtered through Nightwing's mind, but he didn’t offer.

‘Guys.’ Miss Martian, called. ‘Do you copy?’

“Watchtower’s the safest bet, then.” Superboy pressed, “It’s crawling with heroes. Batman will be there. And Superman. What’s the worst one kid can do?” A lot. But Konner wouldn’t take that answer. Nightwing caught the kid’s hand twitch from under Superboy’s leather jacket.

‘Nightwing. Superboy.’ Robin called again, urgency in his tone. ‘Do you copy?’

“Why can’t our recons never actually be recons?” Nightwing sighed dramatically reaching for his batons as the door opened to reveal a folly of security guards. If they were meant to get in and get the kid, then they would sure as hell leave with him. Batman’s lecture be damned.

‘A few friends dropped by. We’ll catch you in five.’ Nightwing finally responded, ‘Get the medkits ready, we have a stowaway.’

Superboy let out a breath and his shoulder’s visibly relaxed, as he pulled the kid closer in his arms. He looked tiny next to Superboy's wide shoulders. Even if he was 7 he was small for it. Nightwing didn’t have much time to take in the kid, locked into a fight he could’ve taken in his formative Robin days, with a Super as back up. The two hurried down the corridor they had entered from, not bothering to take to the shadows when the loud red buzzer and alarms had exposed them. With Superboy’s enhanced strength the boy in his hands barely caused a dent in their escape plans. Though he was so small and skinny, Nightwing was confident their roles could’ve been reversed with minimal disadvantage.

The bioship took off the second the two landed both feet on board. Robin took one look at the heap of a child in Superboy’s arms and domino shifted in what Nightwing knew to be a questioning eyebrow.

“Heading back to Mt. Justice.” M'gann said as they steadied in the sky.

“Drop us off at the Watchtower on your way.” Dick called, following behind Konner to where Tim had set up their makeshift Medbay.

“B’s gonna flip.” Tim said approaching the stretcher the ship formed for them, as Konner laid the kid down gingerly. Dick shrugged, watching the monitors Tim hooked the kid up to. They were low, but they were steady. “He looks like you.” Tim commented again, stepping back to examine his work.

His hair had strips of white in that Dick never had the displeasure of dealing with, but Dick had never been in a cloning pod and he couldn’t be sure if the white hair was a genetic thing or a side effect of whatever the green stuff was. He should’ve gotten a sample of the vials when he had a chance. Have something to show for himself at the lecture he was no doubtably going to have to sit through with B. His skin wasn’t as tan as Dick’s but Dick spent excess hours in the sun and the kid got his umbilical cord cut only minutes ago. He had a dust of freckles, like Dick did. His nose bridge had a crick in it like Dick’s mom’s in the pictures, but Dick’s nose didn’t have one. His jaw was slim and angled like Dick’s had been before he hit puberty, and his skin was clear of any of the acne Dick had fought hard and long in his middle-teens. His shoulder’s didn’t have the muscles Dick had been trained into since before he could remember, making his entire body slimmer and smaller than Dick’s had been at that age.

It was like looking into a funhouse mirror of himself.

---

“Nightwing.” Batman called in a tone that Dick had become, unfortunately, very used to over the years. “Explain.”

“We were reconn-ing, like planned. Found the kid, alarms went off. It was no longer a recon.” He slumped into the empty chair with the Big Blue’s emblem etched into the leather of it. A bored look on his face to hopefully deter the length of the incoming lecture.

“You were team leader and as team leader you should know better than to not notice things. Clues that aren’t there are tells as much as clues that are there, and you led your team-” The lecture was cut off by a color-clad man Nightwing hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing the name of, his hurried eyes filtering between the duo and landing pointedly on Nightwing, hesitant to say anything in the presence of The Almighty Batman. But Nightwing knew. There was only one reason anyone would be looking for him right now.

“The kid’s-”

“Awake. Yeah, I got it.” Nightwing said pushing past him and hurrying in the direction of the Medbay Konner had refused to leave. Batman was on his tail, never one to leave a child vulnerable or unattended, regardless of the potential threat levels. Or maybe it was because he was a threat.

Nightwing entered before Batman, but he could feel him falter at the sight of the kid that sat in the bed with a posture Alfred had taken years to instill in Dick. His hair was still a patchwork of black and white, Dick wondered if he was wrong to think there was more white than there had been before. But as he stepped through the door, large blue eyes locked with Dick’s own. His Father had blue eyes. And his mother had a hooked nose. He’d seen the pictures. He’s memorized them. The slim jaw, the large eyes, and the lush lips. He looked like Dick, but not identical.

“He just woke up.” Konner told Dick quietly, but still loud enough for the kid to hear. Dick took off his domino, Batman left his on. The only people in the room were the three of them, the kid, and the doctor who was looking after him. The kid eyed them all wearily nonetheless.

“Hi,” Dick started with a smile, making sure to keep his hands in view and move them slowly, “I’m Richard Grayson, most people call me Dick.” He wondered if the joke would make him laugh or cringe. The kid just watched him and gave no reaction. Dick cleared his throat and continued, “I was one of the people that helped you get out of your pod.” he informed him. Still no reaction, but he could tell the kid was listening.

Batman stepped to speak, “Do you know who you are?” A clear question, classic Bat.

“P-four-zero-dash-N-ten.” He recited in almost a robotic way. When Konner had been broken out of his pod, he had memories, an objective.

“What he means is do you have a name?” Dick said even though he knew that’s not what Batman had meant.

“Project Grayson. Attempt 16, variation B-7.” He said in the same tone. His eyes moved fast and widely and he took in Dick and Batman’s reactions. Without prompt he continued, “Subject A-1 of operation MouseTrap. To be released from confinement under circumstances of acceptance of preliminary requirements.”

There was a beat of silence, “What are the preliminary requirements?” Batman asked his voice hesitant in the way that Batman never hesitated.

“Requirement 1: Suitable requirements of sustainability. Requirement 2: Overridden entry granted,” When Nightwing hotwired the security to get in, “Requirement 3: DNA match Richard Grayson.”

“What do you know about Richard Grayson?” Batman questioned again. The doctor stepped closer to the kid, but waited for Batman’s question to be answered.

“Richard Grayson, son of Mary Grayson and John Grayson. Recognized as the Flying Graysons, a well known international circus act. Orphaned at age 8, adopted by Bruce Wayne at age 8. First notable appearance as Robin estimated age 9. First notable Nightwing appearance estimated age 19 to 20. Noted weapon of choice: dual escrima sticks. Proficient in martial arts, with emphasis in aerial maneuvers. Threat level: 9.” He paused again, eyes not leaving the whites of Batman’s cowl. “Do you require more details?”

“No.” He said quietly. He took a small step back as silent permission for the doctor to go ahead.

The kid’s eyes went to the doctor, taking in the lab coat before the doctor herself. “I’m going to draw some blood for testing. Is that okay?” The doctor displayed the empty syringe in her hands, not bringing the potential threat closer. The kid eyed the medical device.

“Understood.” He offered up his still bare forearm. The doctor seemed hesitant at that, but proceeded regardless. The boy’s features that had stayed a daring still during the entire not-really-a-conversation-probably-more-of-an-interrogation, made the light twitch of his left eye as the syringe penetrated his skin only more apparent.

Dick considered the interaction they had so far. The kid was definitely a kid. Presumably human considered the resemblance they seemed to share, but you could never be too sure with CADMUS. The tests would prove that once the results were back. But he seemed sentient, picking up on (the lack of) social cues and trying to correct (in his perspective) the mistakes he had made. He reacted to pain, maybe not in the way most kids would, but he wasn’t most kids. He had blood, so he wasn’t a cyborg. There was probably some brainwashing they needed to tap into, but nothing the League hadn’t dealt with before.

The doctor asked him whether he preferred a Superman bandaid or Wonder Woman. His head tilted to the side just a bit, as he examined both bandaids. Then stared at the doctor in silence. The doctor retreated to grab one of the boring brown ones they gave you when you weren’t allowed to have choices anymore. Konner watched the whole interaction from the corner of the room.

When Dick moved in wide steps, the kid watched him carefully with more curiosity than fight. He brought Konner close, but not so much that they were crowding the boy. They still didn’t know what he was capable of, and this would be the worst way to find out. “This is Konner.” Dick gave his shoulder a dramatic clap that he knew wouldn’t hurt the man, “He’s from CADMUS too, long story.” Curiosity took the better of him, “Do you know about project KR?” The kid tilted his head the way he had done with the doctor, which Dick took to mean he was confused and decided not to press the topic, “Well, anyway. Konner here can help you out with anything we can’t. Isn’t that right, Kon?” Dick spoke animatedly, pointedly being overly friendly in his demure with Konner.

Konner gave a nervous nod. Given the fight he’d put up to make sure they brought the kid with them, he was being awfully shy.

The kid looked between them, expression calculating. “Konner.” He echoed Dick’s cadence at the name, but it sounded strange in the monotone. Then he seemed to take a moment to process the name, eyebrows bunching up. He turned to Dick head tilted again. Dick was starting to find it quite endearing. “Konner here.” He echoed Dick’s voice again, but Dick gave him the space to try to find his next words that were brewing on his face, “Kon?” It had the slightest tilt of a question.

“Kon is a nickname.” Konner was quick to explain, his voice was gentle and placating in the way Superman’s often was. “My real name is Kon-el, but most people call me Konner, and my friends call me Kon.”

“Kon is a nickname.” The kid repeated, looking point blank into Konner’s eyes. Then he turned to Dick, “Most people call me Dick.” He repeated Dick’s introduction from before.

Dick gave him a large grin, “Yeah, Dick is a nickname, too. People only call me Richard if they’re mad at me. You picked that up pretty quick kid. You’re a smart one aren’t ‘cha.”

“Pretty quick.” He echoed.

“Do you want to pick out some clothes?” Konner asked. They kept a reserve of all sizes in the room across from the MedBay, they came in handy and also reminded people that Batman designed this place because who else would think to have a gift-shop themed store in the middle of space.

“Pick out? Some clothes.”

“Oh yeah, we got a bunch.” Dick nods.

Surprisingly it was Batman that spoke up next, “Would you like to go see?”

“You’re a smart one aren’t ‘cha.” He says in the same praising manner Dick had, the musculature of his face still steady. Konner hid his laughter much better than Dick, who doubled over in hysterics. Batman didn’t laugh, he never did, but there was a wisp of a smile on his face and that was as close to a cackle you could get out of the cowl.

Dick decided to save the Nightwing merchandise indoctrination for when the kid knew how to say no and mean it. They’d gone through and shown him a handful of options that were his size, because there were a lot of options. In the end he’d picked a hoodie with patchwork of Wonder Woman’s logo on it, that he wore over an equally vibrant Green Lantern t-shirt, and bright red Flash pajama pants. A lot of color, not that Dick’s original Robin costume had been much better in that aspect. The kid could use a bit of color in his life after whatever insanity he’d been put through.

Dick saw the way Batman’s eyes trailed after the kid’s every movement, and hands ready to pick out wherever his eyes landed on. He’d definitely be seeing more of the kid. Pulling the clothes on to replace the hospital gown, the kid looked at himself in the mirror, pulling at the clothes that were still a little big on him and examining them under the gaze of the mirror. When he was satisfied with the ensemble, he turned back to them.

Dick’s phone buzzed with a text.

Timbers: Updates?

It’d probably be best if Dick called him to explain. Which he’d have to do later. “Are you hungry, buddy?”

The kid looked at him curiously, head dipping to the side. The oversized hoodie only added to the look. “I like mac’n’cheese. Do you want to try that?”

“Pretty quick.” He said, in what Dick would deduce to be a yes.

“There’s going to be a lot of people there.” Batman explained, voice slow and enunciated, “We can bring you the mac’n’cheese or you can come with us to get it.”

The Watchtower wasn’t too crowded today, most of the heroes with other bases were there, but even today’s small number might be overwhelming for the kid. “Lot of people there.” he echoed, wide eyes looking up to meet the Caped Crusader’s.

“They’re other heroes. Like Wonder Woman,” Konner pointed to his hoodie, “Green Lantern,” the shirt peeked out from under the hoodie, “and Flash.”

“Superman. Aquman. And this is the Martian Manhunter.” The kid quoted from their quick explanation earlier.

Dick nodded, “Yeah like them, and they’re our friends so they’re not going to hurt you. But they might not be there because uh-” Dick hesitated about what he should say, “they’re at work.” he settled.

After a lot of consideration the kid seemed willing to head to the cafeteria, and they picked a seat in the corner where they could see the whole room but be out of the way enough so the kid didn’t get spooked. Batman and Konner took the kid to pick out which of the meals he thought looked most appetizing while Dick called Tim.

The phone rang a few times, “How screwed are you?” Tim said in lue of a greeting.

Dick laughed, “You should come by and meet your new brother.”

“What! It’s been like four hours?”

“He’s known him for like thirty minutes.” Dick watched as Batman and Konner did their best at explaining what each of the foods were.

“Seriously?” Tim exclaimed before sighing, “Kid got a name?”

“We’re working on it.”

“Is he gonna stay at the Manor?”

“Probably not for a while. What did you find on him?”

Another sigh, more frustrated. “It’s taking a while. But I should have it done in an hour.”

“Personal delivery?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” A pause, some of the other hero’s gave the kid curious looks. But fortunately no one approached since Batman was his shadow. “You know who he is, yet?” Tim meant in relation to Dick. Because there was some relation, people don’t just look alike. Not the way they did.

Brother. Son. Duplicate. Dick hadn’t really given himself the chance to think about it. Like really think about it. He has a family, sure, Bruce, Alfred, Barbra, Jason and Tim. But he had a family. The ones who told him Romani folktales and helped him feed the circus animals even though they weren’t allowed. He was the last of the Graysons, but that could only happen if there had been Graysons before. And there had been. Until they had fallen from grace, and the show light stopped shining upon them. But there was another Grayson now, in whatever way he had been made, and whoever he was supposed to be. Dick wasn’t the last Grayson anymore, and he hoped he would never have to be again. “We did some tests. They haven’t come back yet.”

“Hm. I’ll stop by when I can.”

“‘Kay. Toodles.” Dick could hear him snort at that before the line disconnected.

When Dick finally made it to the table, the kid looked up at him. He put a singular cheesy gnocchi in his mouth that took him a few tries to get on the end of his fork. The kid tried for another bite, hair flopping around as he tried to work the fork. Batman watched him as he managed to fill his fork with more than he would be able to fit in his mouth, then toppled and fell into the bowl. Confused, he tried again. This time Batman took the fork from him demonstrating how to use the utensil with a silent patience, and handed it back to the boy loaded with a bite.

Flash, ever the conversationalist, caught sight of them and made his way to the table. “Cool pants, kid.” he commented jovially sitting in the empty space next to Konner.

The kid looked down at his pants, cheese smeared around his mouth that Dick could tell Batman was seriously contemplating whipping. But neither of them were ready to push the kid’s boundaries yet, if he even had any. The kid examined the Flash emblem that patterned his pants, then up at the matching and much more meticulously designed on the speedster’s chest. His eyes went wide with recognition, but his face didn’t move to smile. The kid pointed to Flash’s chest, “Cool pants, kid!” He exclaimed excitement was easily laced into the Flash’s cadence of speech.

“Hey! That’s what I said!” Flash was easy to laugh, despite the whisper of confusion in his eyes.

The cheer Flash displayed was matched easily, “Hey! That’s what I said!” There was a laugh in his voice like he was trying to say a joke that reached his eyes but not his cheeks. “And Flash!” he exclaimed.

“That's right, I’m the Flash.” He gave a quick lap around the table to show off his speed, both the kid’s and Dick’s hair tousled in the show.

“Pretty quick.” Danny cheered.

“I’d like to think so.” Flash puffed his chest out, a prideful smile on his face. Dick rolled his eyes. Speedsters.

“You should eat your food before it gets cold.” Konner nudged the kid gently. Reminded of the earlier mystery of the fork and mac'n'cheese, his attention was quickly diverted.

“Kinda young for the family business, don’t you think, Batsy?” Flash questioned, “He didn’t even earn his colors yet.” Flash alluded to the Robin suit.

“He’ll be staying at the Watchtower for a period.” Batman said, and whatever other additional explanation he was about to give was forgotten when the kid placed his forkless hand on the table to aim at the pasta from overhead, like he’d been doing earlier. Except unlike all the other times, his hand went straight through the hard material of the table, causing him to topple over. A surprised gasp escaped him.

Flash caught his head before it hit anything, the other’s on their feet. “Oh, dear.” Flash commented lightly, trying to disperse any tension the kid may have had. Like all the other times, he didn’t cry or seem alarmed in any way. He tried to pull his hand out but it seemed stuck, and he turned to Dick for an explanation. Not that Dick had one to give. He wasn’t a meta, untapped or otherwise. His parent’s weren't either. And even if the tests hadn’t come back Dick had had his suspicions of who the kid was supposed to be to him. And meta didn’t fit anywhere into the bill.

“Can you get him out?” Batman asked Flash, when it was clear the kid didn’t know how to. It took him a while to phase his hand out, and it was obvious he didn’t like the idea of using the speed force on the kid, but they didn’t have that many options. The kid, to his credit, seemed only mildly put off by the experience and went back to his goal of finishing his mac’n’cheese. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of them.

Batman gave Dick a look. “Tim says he should be done in an hour. Stop by if he can.” Batman didn’t look pleased, but there wasn’t much else for him to do.

“Are you ok?” Konner asked, trying for a gentle hand on his shoulder. The kid didn’t protest.

“Pretty quick.” He said pointing his fork to Flash, as a final comment.

me: has a prompt idea me: i can write a short little exerpt abt this lol. it' be fun. maybe like 2k?? me four days later pulls put this monstrosity:

for your convince I only have the "original amount" i was planning. the rest will be on ao3

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ghostlychief · 1 year

Note

Hiii!! Just before I request- your Ghost fics are all so damn great :'))) youre suuuper good at writing!!

Could I please get a fem! Reader who isnt part of 141, but another taskforce, and happens to spot Ghost getting shot by a bullet from afar, so she decides to save the him by killing all the enemies (with gun, knife or martial arts, whatevs ya want, maybe all) and taking Ghost to her home and treats his wounds cause she is also a medic and Ghost just quietly falls in love with a stranger who just saved him?

Sorry if its not understandable, english isnt my first language :(

You can ignore it but have a good day ^^

omg thank you sm for reading my other ghost fics!!! <3333 first of all, your english is GREAT. there is no need to apologize sweetie. i threw together this fic for you, hope you enjoy <3

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k+

warnings: none, just mentions of bullet injuries, but nothing graphic; fluff

You’ve only met the guy once, and yet, you’re standing over him while he lays shirtless on your couch.

Of course, you weren’t planning on having anyone over tonight, no. You thought you would get home from your mission, albeit a bit bruised and sore. You were going to take a nice hot bath and let the steam melt away your worries. You had your self-care night all planned out. That was, until this morning when your team aka Task Force Cobra, got informed that you were paired up with Task force 141. It was to be a matrix job, something you weren’t overly used to.

Nonetheless, each group gathered in the conference room to debrief. This was your first time meeting the aforementioned 141 squad. They weren’t as intimidating as you thought, although maybe it was because you were also a skilled marksman. Nevertheless, you introduced yourselves and got the formalities out of the way before you got into the nitty gritty of today’s mission.

However, one of the 141 members caught your eye. Goes by the name Ghost. He was one of the taller ones, and you could only see his eyes. Everything else was left to the imagination.

You quickly rid your thoughts of the man, needing to focus on what you were assigned to do. You drew your attention back to Price and Diablo, who was your supervisor for Cobra.

“Cobra’s task is to run recon. We’ll go in first unsuspected and gather as much intel as needed. Then, 141 will come in.”

You mentally groan. You personally didn’t like recon because it usually didn’t result in a lot of action, and action is what you were trained for. You had a black belt in martial arts after all, and you were pretty adept with a knife.

Though, you kept your dissatisfaction to yourself and listened to the rest of the briefing.

Nothing exciting happened during recon. In order to gather intel, Cobra tried to look like normal civilians in the market area; all your weapons were concealed. You spotted a few of the hitmen you were after, and radioed 141. The hitmen you were after are part of a drug trafficking group called the Ludin cartel. You really were after the king pins, but you had to start somewhere.

Once you sent the signal, 141 started infiltrating the area and the civilians quickly scattered when they saw men with heavy weaponry storming through the market.

By now, you were in the outskirts of the market, but you could still see the commotion happening within. You may have just seen Ghost get shot. Wait what?

You did a double take and sure enough, Ghost has a red stain on his pant leg. Fuck.

You know you need to get to him as soon as he can so he won’t bleed out, but there’s still Ludin men surrounding him.

Well, fuck me.

You took a breath then started to make your way over to Ghost. Your movements were swift and sharp as you cut through Ludin’s men, every once in awhile your knife made contact with someone’s skin, leaving a big gash wherever the blade reached.

Once the hitmen were taken care of, you were left with the sight of Ghost passed out on the ground. You radioed Cobra and 141, “Ghost’s down. I repeat, Ghost’s down.”

You heard a chopper in the distance.

The last thing Ghost remembers is faintly seeing someone take down nearly every Ludin man that was surrounding him; he doesn’t remember much after that. Now, he’s awake but his surrounding is unfamiliar to him.

He also feels a chill, and that’s when he looks down and notices his shirt is off, but there’s also a thick white bandage covering the loser half of his torso.

What the fuck happened?

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A sweet voice cuts through the air, and he looks up to find a woman standing over him. Your face is soft, your features show compassion, tenderness, and he doesn’t feel on guard like he usually does when he wakes up in an unfamiliar place.

Maybe it’s the daze of waking up with two bullet holes in your body, maybe it’s because of you. Whichever, he can’t find himself to tear his eyes away from your sweet face. It’s been so long that you even say, “Are you alright? Can you hear me okay?”

He mentally shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry. Just wasn’t sure where I was for a moment. You’re y/n right, from Cobra?”

You give him a slight nod with a smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. He finds himself looking there, at the plush color that coats them, but quickly averts his gaze so he doesn’t seem like a creep.

“Yeah, you got banged up pretty bad. Two bullets. One in your thigh, the other grazed your abdomen.”

Jesus.

“Why am I here in this house?” His tone is only curious, wondering why he isn’t in the med house back at base.

“This is one of my safe houses, and it just so happened to be the closest to the raid. Both teams agreed for me to take you back here. Along with being a skilled martial artist, I also happen to be a medic.”

Your sweet smile turns into a smirk while confidence coats your face, and Ghost finds this extremely attractive.

He once again can’t tear his eyes from you.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You keep staring.”

Fuck me.

He stutters out the first bit of his response, “I’m fine, sorry. Just have a headache, but also it doesn’t help that I’m laying here shirtless with a beautiful, yet terrifying martial artist turned medic.”

You let out a laugh that makes his heart glow. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’ve literally only met this woman once.

“No worries, Lieutenant. Patients are usually a little discombobulated after being injured.”

You smile at him again, “This is a judgment free zone.”

Ghost nods, feeling a little bit better. A hint of smirk forms on his lips, “If this is a ‘judgement free zone’, would you mind if I ask you a question?”

You nod, willing him to proceed.

He’s taking a risk, he knows. But he has to ask. He’s already so enamored by you.

“Well, since you’ve been so kind as to take me to your home, and tend to my wounds, what do you say about me taking you out for a drink? As a thank you, of course.”

He watches as your face shifts from intrigue to understanding. Your sweet laughs permeates the air once again.

“I usually don’t accept offers like this, but for you I will.”

Ghost lets out a breathy laugh.

“Great, it’s a date then.”

hope you enjoyed!

masterlist

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anki-of-beleriand · 2 years

Text

Enhanced senses

Summary: While on a mission you heard a conversation that make you think about your relationship with Wanda.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!reader

Warnings: smut, drama, happy ending, some dirty talk and brief mentions of sexual abuse (but mentinoned only), insecurities, fluff. So much fluff. Selective mutism Reader. Past trauma.

Author's note: Hey there, just another brief one-shot along the lines of my first story Without words and When there are no words I hope you guys like it. I found this world fun to write and I really hope you guys enjoyed it.

Please do remember English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Enhanced senses

If there was someone who always knew what was going on in the Avengers Compound or even in SHIELD that would be you.

Of that Wanda was completely sure.

It was as if the fact you spoke nothing at all, and that you seemed to just wander around silently helped by your own powers allowed you to be the ears and the eyes of the Team. Fury specially was torn between hating this ability and loving it, the rest of the team was just looking for the potential behind this information gathering from you while Wanda and Natasha found it amusing.

You didn’t do it because you wanted to, if anything, you were doing it by accident.

Which it was funnier.

You discovered whenever you know a funny fact, Wanda would lit up with mirth and whispered at you just how amusing it was. Sometimes, you found some secrets meant to be kept and, in those moments, you felt bad, it really wasn’t your intention to find out those details and yet you did. So you never revealed them and pretend as if nothing had happened, people deserved intimacy and that was why you were learning to be careful and to leave whenever the time was right.

Sometimes, of course, when you were on a mission you were made to stay and hear the secrets. That was your goal and the role you held during recon and surveillance.

And this brought you to the point you were right in.

Standing in the shadows with the earpiece in your ear and the keyboard on your wrist that Tony had facilitated to you so you didn’t have to use your voice, you listened to the conversation happening between two HYDRA agents. You were supposed to gather some intel before you could infiltrate the facility, but what they were talking about was so much important that whatever chemical or bioweapon HYDRA was building in the facility.

“Dude, I’m serious! This chick was like an animal, she was this hungry creature we fucked all night long!”

You scowled at the words, pursing your lips. The other guy laughed and the one talking made a few moaning sounds.

“She was complaining all the time, you know? How her husband was never home, he never touched her again. How long has it been since she felt dick inside her.” Here you noticed the change of tone in the man speaking, he was feeling smug about the whole situation. “She even told me her cunt must felt like a virgin’s one since it had been two years since they have sex.”

You squirmed uncomfortably, though there was something in the contents of the conversation that was raising flags inside your head. It was something you had considered before but that you had never forced or even dare to explore more than a couple of times, Wanda had never said anything and then all of a sudden you wondered why you never spoke about it.

“Well, two years without sex? I would fuck whatever comes across my path.” The other man laughed while the one that had been speaking hit him playfully before laughing as well.

“I know, right? I mean, this dude really thought that gifts and love would keep her from looking what she was really missing.”

“You know? Perhaps the guy didn’t even know how to do it? You know small dick, poor performance…”

You didn’t hear much afterwards; you had already sent the message the Team was waiting for and a couple of minutes later you heard the explosions. The two men talking comfortably in the outlook post never had the opportunity to react as a shadow engulfed them and were left unconscious.

Night was already falling in the compound by the time you returned from the mission.

In all this time, you had dedicated your time to observe the world right outside the window, a define frown upon your face while you played the conversation you overheard over and over inside your head. Everyone was kind of loud inside the Quinjet, the laughter and the conversation threatened to be overwhelming for you as you tried to organize your thoughts.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality, Natasha sat beside you smiling softly while wincing when Thor let out a booming laughter.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Natasha asked leaning in to brush some stray locks of hair out of your face.

You pursed your lips shrugging, your eyes flickering back to the window. In reality you weren’t sure if this was something you could discuss with Natasha, you felt as if probably she would laugh at you or finding it ridiculous. When her hand closed around yours, and she offered that motherly smile she reserved only for you, your heart swelled with affection knowing if there was someone you could trust with this was her.

“I still think you did amazing,” Natasha commented referring to the mission. “The guys just wanted to make everything difficult by bursting into the facilities and making everything explode.”

You chuckled rolling your eyes.

Yes, they were always up to create some mayhem when bringing justice, which was the reason why Thor and Pietro usually pouted whenever you get there first knocking out everyone with your powers. It had become a matter of honor between you, Pietro and Thor, who would get there first and submit their opponents first. Sometimes you enjoyed the competition too much, and Thor would celebrate your actions even though he always claimed he could have done it all on his own. When Natasha saw how your eyes gleamed amusedly, and your position relaxed some she knew this was not what was bothering you.

There was something else, and the young woman decided to try with something else.

“Wanda called.”

There it was.

You tensed completely and this time around your eyes were fixated on the window. You shifted on the seat pursing your lips together.

“She said she and Vision would have dinner ready and was really excited you to have you back.” Natasha continued leaning against the window, her eyes drifted to the rest of the team that were still as loud as always. “Did you guys have a fight or something?”

You lowered your gaze shaking your head, then your eyes sought those of Natasha and the question was there. Your lip quivered ready to say something when Thor came right int placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Ah, but let’s not forget that today was a tie!”

“There was no tie! Come on Thor, you lost to me and Y/N!” Pietro retorted crossing his arm bumping against you with a playful smile, the other Avenger blinked shaking his head. Steve sighed giving up, while Sam saw this as an opportunity to see how far their childish antics would go.

Your change was almost immediate, Natasha furrowed her brows watching you stand up with arms crossed and eyes gleaming playfully while shaking your head. Even as you joined in with the rest of the guys, Natasha could tell by your posture and the tension around your eyes there was something else bothering you. The Black Widow observed as you tried to mingle in with the rest of the boys, always silent and gesturing, it was a miracle most of the time they understood what you meant without you uttering a single word.

It had been more than two years since you joined the team and for Natasha had been a relief to see how easy was for you to be a part of the team. You were quiet, yes. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t be funny, or playful, sometimes your actions were those of a mischievous child while some others you were like this ancient individual ready to listen to others and provide words of comfort.

Everyone had been a participant of such moments.

And everyone had come to love you for it.

Natasha chuckled when you poked Thor on his nose, your hands lifting up to show ten fingers wiggling your eyebrows at him.

“That’s not true!! Take that back!” Thor leaned in while you shook your head snorting.

Another discussion erupted, Steve trying to calm everyone up while Sam and Tony seemed ready to put more wood into the fire.

It was just like any other mission.

And yet, Natasha observed your eyes flickered with concern and something else she couldn’t decipher. The former spy made a note to get you alone and see if there was something she could do to help, her mind already drifting back to Wanda and perhaps get the young woman help her out in this.

_____________________________________________________________

Whenever you were in her arms, it was as if the whole world stopped around you.

Your whole body relaxed, your arms sneaking around her hips putting her closer to you. You could hear her intake of breath; you could smell her perfume and the shampoo of peaches she loved so much.

“Welcome home, detka.” She whispered in your ear before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Ugh, God, get a room!” Sam teased walking past the both of you, you flickered your hand chuckling when the man almost fell to the ground your shadows tripping the man over. “Hey! It was a joke!”

You rolled your eyes turning back to Wanda noticing for the very first time her flustered expression, the dilated eyes and her coy smile adorning her lips. You leaned in wondering if perhaps you had missed something in regards to your relationship with her.

The conversation between the two HYDRA guards came back at you, and you had to wonder if perhaps this was something Wanda wanted it. Maybe you had missed the signs? You had never thought about it, and now…you didn’t want to lose her.

Wanda winced leaning in placing a kiss on your cheek, “you’re thinking too loud, detka. Is something the matter?”

You pursed your lips shaking your head, your hand finding hers before you flashed the most brilliant smile you could form. Wanda heisted for a moment, before taking your hand and following you inside the compound.

The dinner soon turned into a late gathering with all of them talking and joking around, the games had been brough in and music was sounding right in the living room. You sat in a corner far from the main gathering, smiling at Wanda whenever she would lift her eyes to you.

“So, what is it?” Natasha sat beside you offering a beer, you took the bottle pursing your lips shrugging slightly.

Natasha took a long sip from her beer nodding, “it’s gonna be like this then, you’re gonna worry yourself until you can’t take it anymore and then go around all grumpy and irritable?”

“I’m not a child.” You retorted with indignation; Natasha smirked lifting her eyebrow at you.

“You behave like one sometimes.” Natasha observed how you grabbed the bottle drinking some while your eyes focused on Wanda. “If you two didn’t have a fight then, what is it? You know you can trust me…”

“I want to have sex with Wanda.” You blurted out, your voice rough and uncertain.

Natasha opened her eyes at the revelation, she could not look away from you and the bottle on her hand almost feel to the ground. You rolled your eyes looking away from her, soon the rest of the room disappeared, and you could think only of how stupid you were.

“What?” Natasha finally asked in a rush whisper, she leaned in placing her hand on your knee, so you looked back at her. “You and Wanda have never…”

You scowled shifting uncomfortably, the sharp shaking of your head was all Natasha needed for an answer. You looked down, your heart hammering against your chest while your cheeks turned an uncomfortable shade of red. You were about to stand up but the hand on your knee clenched tightly until you found yourself looking into Natasha’s eyes.

“I’m not judging you, Y/N. I am surprised, but I don’t think less of you for this.”

Sometimes you hated how well Natasha could read you, some others you were just grateful there was someone who could do so. Someone other than Wanda, of course. The drop of your shoulders, with the tilt of your head told Natasha you were still unsure if the conversation should continue. But in all honesty, this was a complete shock to Natasha.

You and Wanda had been dating for more than a year, the both of you spent most of the time together and you even sleep in the same room from time to time. There were days in which really, there was an atmosphere of sexual satisfaction in both of you that everyone thought it was almost logical that the both of you had been...sleeping together.

The conversation at the other end of the room soon became too loud, you turned to see Wanda glancing back at you with a concern gleam in her emerald eyes. Pietro by her side glancing at you with the same concern look, you softened slightly winking at your girlfriend, your lips turning into a reassuring smile she returned shyly.

“You never….really?” Natasha lifted her hands emptied the bottle in her hand, your glare more than enough to tell her she shouldn’t make the wrong comment, or you wouldn’t speak at all. “Now, I just…well, we assume…”

You shook your head shrugging, Natasha leaned back pursing her lips while glancing back at the group. For a moment a tensed silence formed between the both of you, you were already regretting your decision of telling her this, perhaps you were an idiot and you should have resolve this on your own. Then a hand placed itself on your knee once again and you found yourself looking into Natasha’s eyes.

“Okay, you two haven’t been together in that way, but you want to, right?” You nodded hesitantly; Natasha softened slightly. “And you know how it is done, I know about…”

At that moment everything clicked inside Natasha’s mind. You could see as her mind worked around the reasons behind your lack of interest or even your attempts to explore a physical relationship with Wanda. You clenched your jaw nodding curtly, your eyes hardening and the shadows lurking behind you shifted slightly.

“Y/N, look at me.” Natasha offered a tense smile, though her eye never lost the tenderness in them. “You are unsure if this is going to be like one of those missions, that perhaps this won’t be or even mean what it should…that you are far too damage to make this special.”

You huffed dropping your shoulders while looking away, “she deserves something special.”

Your mumbled words dripped with affection, and Natasha could see how this was affecting you at the moment. Whatever had happened during the mission, it made you think about this under a different light. You pursed your lips then turned to Natasha, ready to reveal what was really bothering you.

“I heard them say that when you don’t have sex, you leave.”

There it was, Natasha snorted at this revelation rolling her eyes.

“No, Y/N, when you have sex out of love and attraction, it is just a bonus to the relationship.” Natasha made sure you didn’t look away from her as she continued. “Your relationship with Wanda should not be based on that, the fact that you two have been together for a year and a half without so much of a kiss should tell you that what you have is more than a physical attraction.”

You shrugged again, unsure as to what exactly that could mean. Your eyes lifted again and this time around Wanda was engaged in a childish discussion with Pietro who was laughing while pointing at the UNO cards.

“But I want to make her feel special. And I want us to…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

It was in moments like this Natasha melted at the sight of you. Sometimes you were just a child made to grow too fast and faced a world you barely understood, carrying upon your shoulders the weight of powers you barely understood and the life of a spy that brought emotional damage you were trying to heal. And yet, you were still capable of innocence, of giving your all to everyone around you and show them how much you could love, and how much you could do for them.

“Y/N, do you want to have sex with Wanda? Or do you want to give sex to her so she won’t leave you?” Before you opened your mouth to respond Natasha lifted her hand shaking her head. “No, think about it, the answer to these questions should be enough for you to make a decision, whatever it is, whatever you do…I know it would be special and Wanda would love you regardless of it.”

******

That night you thought about it.

Wanda came at you smiling sweetly, her lips upon yours as she arranged her position on the bed, her head on your shoulder and your legs intertwined. You put her closer, listening to her narrating her weekend. It had always been this way, but this time around you were noticing other things. How her body felt against yours, how warm she usually was, how soft was her skin…

You smiled when she told you about the disaster in the kitchen, or how Vision taught her to hack into the secure system to download movies in the TV. You relationship with her had never been defined by the physical contact, and though the both of you had gotten into some sexy games it never went beyond that. Wanda never said anything and you just assumed it was okay.

Perhaps, it was time?

The small figured beside you stirred, her nose nuzzling against your pulse point while she placed a sweet kiss on your jaw.

“What is it, love? You have been so restless since the mission.” Wanda lifted herself on her elbow, her eyes filled with sleep though you could see how worried she really was. “Wanna talk about it?”

You sighed shaking your head, your hand lifting up to caress her face, cupping her check in your arm you leaned in kissing her slowly. The hand you had on her waist rubbing circles on her lower back, putting her closer while your lips and tongue played a lazy game of dominance you won in the end. The whimper that left her lips sent a shiver down your back.

When the both of you parted away, you could see the lust gleaming in her eyes. She was breathing hard, flustered while looking at you with curiosity, up until that point you had ignored such reactions because it was not important. A pang of guiltiness went right through you, how selfish you had been with the situation; you might think it wasn’t important, your idea must be distorted but…what about Wanda?

“Detka?” Wanda asked placing a hand on your cheek.

You kissed her again, this time around just a quick peck on the lips.

“I have a surprised for you, tomorrow.” You said simply, your voice filled with affection as you said this.

Wanda opened her eyes big, they were gleaming with happiness and her heart speed up at your words. It must be something special for you to say it out loud; she giggled hiding her face on the crook of your neck.

“You do? What is it?” You snorted shaking your head, and Wanda could do nothing but giggled like a high school girl. “Right, if you tell me if wouldn’t be a surprised, right?”

You nodded matching the smile on her face, she rolled her eyes affectionately at you.

“That was what have you so worried?” She asked and you just shrugged, sometimes you could not say what you wanted or what you really meant. It was better to show her everything.

Wanda nuzzled your neck again snuggling closer to you, her heart feeling lighter knowing everything was because you had a surprised for her. She knew it was still difficult for you to understand and assimilated that whatever you did for Wanda, she would always love it.

“Very well, I expected my surprised to be worth my concern for you all day. It cost me the UNO game against Pietro.”

You chuckled rolling your eyes, a void at the pit of your stomach.

Now, what would you do?

______________________________________________________________

Ever since you met him, he became your best friend.

Your partner in crime.

He was the brother you wished you had.

Sometimes, he was too much …some others he wasn’t.

Like, he was acting right at the moment. He was turning blue, still coughing while waving his hand away matching the glare you had on your face. You rolled your eyes patting him on the back, easing him down on the ground while he tried to recover his breathing abilities.

“Yo…you…” He rasped out clearing his throat, you passed him a bottle of water lifting an eyebrow at him. “Yo---you CAN’T!”

The last part was said with a scream, you jumped startled taking in a defensive position out of instinct. Pietro was torn between disbelief, mortification and protectiveness; his sore throat calming while he tried to drink more water clearing his throat shooting you a nasty glare for asking such a thing when he was in the middle of drinking water. He almost died.

“You…can’t. NO, absolutely NO.” He reiterated shaking his head, you were not impressed by his antics, your eyes narrowed while you lift the small whiteboard he had giving you for your birthday,

I’m not asking for your permission.

“Good, because you’re not having it!” Pietro exclaimed. “She is my little sister!”

You scrunched up your nose, writing something there rather fast.

You’re twins! You’re just older by 12 minutes!

“It doesn’t matter! I’m not about to let you, to…geez, really? What make you think this was a good idea?” As soon as those words left his mouth, Pietro regretted them.

He could see the changes in your face, how your whole body stiffened while your eyes flickered down and your whole expression dropped. You nodded curtly turning around when his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“No, wait, Y/N, I didn’t mean that…” You refused to look at him, trembling in anger and hurt because of his words. “Shit, I’m sorry, it’s just…I mean…she is my sister and you…well, I just thought…Look, sorry.”

You crossed your arms looking away, Pietro knew you came to him because she trusted you. Because you were her friend and was hoping for a good advised as she always did whenever Wanda was involved. Pietro also knew this topic was a complete discovery to you, he had known for quite sometime the two of you hadn’t had any physical intercourse he had heard Wanda’s worries and your silent inquiries.

Still…Wanda was his siter, he just…

“Look, it’s just weird.” He finally said shrugging. “I know you’re not asking me to give you a class…”

You scoffed at his comment writing something down on the board, Pietro opened and closed his mouth several times.

I’m pretty sure I’m better than you in that area.

Pietro straightened up ready to retort until he noticed the glint of amusement in your eyes, he lifted his arms in the air shaking his head.

“You know what? I’m not going to fall on that discussion, I know the real answer so…” He rolled his eyes at your condescending smile. “Okay, so you really want to…you know? With Wanda?”

You nodded curtly, this time around you could sense the blush forming on your cheeks. Pietro let a hand brushed his hair before he sighed.

“Okay, I think…I’m not…I just…” Pietro tried to start several times, you just tapped the ground with your foot waiting impatiently. “Okay, okay…geez, eager much?”

You hit him on his arm, he yelped moving away from you.

“Y/N she really loves you, man she is so in love with you is amazing how happy you make her.” Pietro finally said placing his hands on your shoulders. “Whatever you do, I know she would love it because it’s you.”

You felt tears at the corner of your eyes, Pietro offered a comforting squeeze on your shoulders before continuing. “Now, what we can do…because I bet you don’t want anyone snooping around,” you nodded in agreement and Pietro put a hand on his chin. “Well, the Avenger’s tower had a complete section meant for each one of us. I know it’s still being build but…I think mine and Wanda’s is about to be finished, why don’t you take her there?”

You tilted your head nodding in approval, your eyes drifted back to the compound then back to Pietro.

“I talk to Tony, don’t worry.” You sighed in relief offering a smile, Pietro smiled back wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Now, for the date…”

Wanda has been talking non-stop about the concert of her favourite band, they have a very exclusive presentation today.

Pietro nodded in agreement, “yeah, yeah she gave me hell about that too. Mmm, well for that one, we’re Avengers pal, I think we can get in.”

No cheating or doing something illegal like last time?

Pietro looked offended by the insinuation, both of you shared the same mischievous smile.

“Me? Never!”

You chuckled wrapping your arms around him, Pietro softened wrapping his arms around you. The whole situation was absurd and while a part of him still thought that it was odd and just a tad bit embarrassing, he also knew he couldn’t trust his sister to anyone that wasn’t you.

“Y/N just…” Pietro stepped back looking you in the eye. “If you hurt my little sister, I’ll kill you. And please, no details. I really don’t need to know how you deflower her…”

You cringed hitting him on the arm again, Pietro chuckled staring at you.

“Sorry, what I mean is I know you make her happy, and that she makes you happy so let’s keep it that way.”

You nodded curtly nodding towards the compound, Pietro nodded as well and soon the both of you were getting ready for the date.

______________________________________________________________

Wanda Maximoff had learnt a long time ago that what you didn’t say with words, you most certainly did with actions.

She didn’t need a full declaration of love, or the retelling of your life and adventures for Wanda to get to know you by looking at you. Your body and your gestures were enough to tell her whenever you were mad or happy, or when you found yourself sad or contemplative. It had taken some time, even moments of denial before she finally gave in her feelings for you, but when she was finally there she realized not many got a chance to see you.

The real you.

Your contemplative nature allowed for you to be very observant, to always notice whenever there was someone in need of help or a shoulder to cry on. You were kind and highly sensitive, mischievous, and quite competitive and each of these aspects Wanda loved with all her heart. Then there were the traits not as positive as these ones, you were easy to anger and sometimes highly impatient, you were secretive and kept what you really felt deep inside your head until it was almost impossible to hold it back. You were stubborn and defiant, and sometimes just for the hell of it you were at rebel by heart.

Wanda never needed to hear you to know all of this.

The relationship the both of you shared was special like that, whenever you needed to share something special or meaningful you would open your mind to her. When Wanda felt as if the world was too much, you stood by her side wrapping your arms protectively around her drawing shows on a wall, telling her stories you had learnt thanks to your trips to Wakanda. When the both of you fought it was explosive and chaotic, everyone knew something bad had happened because you would pout and grunt all day long and Wanda would hex whoever tried to approach her without a real reason behind it.

This and more were what the both of you had built over time, and Wanda loved every single moment of it.

She fixed her hair and makeup in front of the mirror, her lips curling into a soft smile as her hand went to the pendant you had given to her for your first anniversary. Wanda knew that day was not special, it was just another day in the calendar but the way you had acted as of late she knew perhaps there was something else bothering you and this was your way to talk to her when you lack the words.

There was a knock on her door, Wanda straightened up giving herself one last glance before opening the door of her room. She stopped dead on her tracks, her breath caught in her throat when she took in your outfit.

Her mouth hang opened as you fit a pair of black jeans with come vans, the white shirt was bottom up all the way to your neck and on top of it you wore a leather jacket complementing the hair and the lack of makeup. Your lips curled into a smirk, and your eyes checking Wanda out with the same hunger.

You cleared your throat stretching your hand to her, “you look stunning, Little Witch.”

Your voice sent a shiver down Wanda’s back, her eyes darkened for a moment and the young witch knew just that night there was something different. Her hand grasped yours, the warm she brough to you always made your heart leap to your throat.

“You look beautiful, detka.” Wanda replied breathlessly. “Where are we going?”

You winked at her, making your way down the hall to the garage.

“Please, don’t tell me you stole the keys from Natasha.” Wanda giggled at your offend stare, the keys of the bike on your hand while you merely shook your head.

This time around Wanda was quite shocked, “she lend you the bike? Really?”

You rolled your eyes, your lips tugging up as you nodded pointing to your chest. Wanda leaned in pecking you on the lips.

“I know you’re very responsible, it’s just Natasha loves the bike as much as she loves you.” Then as an afterthought, “I would say she loves the bike even more.”

The indignation crossing your features was well worth the comment, Wanda chuckled kissing you softly.

“I’m kidding, detka, as of today you were upgraded to the first place, since she is letting you use her bike.” Wanda yelped in surprised when your arms wrapped around her waist putting her closer to you, the young woman stood in between your legs and she found herself unable to look away from your eyes.

Wanda shivered leaning in, her body tingling all over submitting slowly to your caresses. Your hand moved up to cup her cheeks, you stood up locking your lips with hers and the kiss ended up being different to the ones you had shared so far. It was lips only, a danced of sensations in which you lead Wanda deeper into the game with sensuous nibbles while your fingers tickled the skin of her cheeks, jaw and neck.

When the both of you parted, Wanda was blushing furiously her eyes completely darkened and her heart about ready to burst out of her chest.

“What was that for?” She asked in a whisper, you smiled at her. A real smile. The one you only gave to her.

“I love you.” You said simply, Wanda accepted this and soon the both of you were making your way to the centre of the city of New York.

Wanda noticed there was something different about this date by the time she was laughing in the midst of a club, your arms around her with people celebrating around the both of you. Even in the midst of such a party, with the noise and the music and the lights, it was as if no one else exited but you and her. Your eyes had been all night on her, even after you received many invitations from both male and females, and you had stolen more than a couple of glances your hand never left hers, and your eyes were looking at Wanda with adoration.

Wanda was not sure how you had gotten two VIP passes to the concert she was dying to go, but she didn’t care as long as she could enjoy the way she was doing at the moment.

“Oh, no, I’m beat I think I need to sit!” Wanda exclaimed above the music, you nodded looking around while pointing to the private longue at the back. “You’re kidding, right?”

You shrugged but of course Wanda knew you were not kidding, of course the private longue had been reserved for the both of you. It seemed as if the whole night had been planned for just the two of you, the rest of the world was just a guest in your own little world.

Once the both of you were inside the room the sound of the music got muffled by the protective barrier of the walls and the windows, there was food and drink available for the both of you as well as a comfortable sofa. Wanda couldn’t help but take you in her arms, her lips seeking out yours in a content gesture of how well she had spent her night so far.

You melted into the kiss, tasting her as if it was the very first time you did so. By the time you both sought out air, your arms wrapped comfortably on her hips and her arms were on the back of your neck.

“This was perfect, detka, thank you. How did you get all of this?” Wanda inquired never losing her smile.

“Tony, Pietro and Natasha.” You answered with affection in your voice, “I want tonight to be special for you.”

This surprised Wanda greatly, the young woman softened slightly knowing this must be really special even for you to go all the way to prepare things and to be so open and talkative about it.

“Every day I spend in your arms is special, Y/N.” Wanda said honestly. “And today you made it extra special, I love you.”

The goofy smile that appeared on your face told Wanda you would never get tired of hearing such things coming from her, it was such a new emotion that bubbled up on your chest and made you all girly and cute in her eyes. Wanda chuckled when you dipped your head shyly before speaking again.

“There is something else, but…” Here you trailed off, and Wanda knew not to press you to speak up. The fact you were talking at the moment told her whatever was happening was important enough. “We can get to that part whenever you want.”

Wanda tilted her head for a moment, her nose crunching up adorably with her eyes gleaming with the same happiness reflecting in yours.

“How about if we go now?” Wanda said after a moment of hesitation, “I think I’m beat and I wouldn’t say no to more of this surprised you have prepared for me.”

Wanda was highly surprised when all of a sudden you looked away with a blush adorning your cheeks, your eyes glancing coyly at you with a smile that denote a timidity she would never associate with you. Ever. Now, she was more curious than before as to what you had prepared for her.

*****

The Avengers Tower was a structure protected by pure Stark technology.

Friday alongside with some modifications made by Vision and Tony himself, worked in a way only few people in the world were capable of accessing the whole facility without being threatened with forced or criminal charges.

For the moment the place was empty, but by the penthouse Tony used once in a while, and the upper floors meant to be the private flats for each and every single member of the Avengers.

Welcome, Agent Y/N, Ms. Maximoff.

“Hello Friday.” Wanda greeted the AI as soon as the both of you entered the lifts located it in the garage.

Wanda was still highly confused about the whole trip, she thought there was something different for her. Perhaps a visit to a beach, or a restaurant or an amusement park…in reality, Wanda thought about everything but the both of you coming all the way to the Avenger’s Tower.

It was quite evident, thought this was what you had planned and right now it had you fidgeting nervously in place while shooting Wanda nervous stares. The ride in the elevator was a slow one, Wanda had stopped trying to get out of you when it was quite evident you would not show or speak until the right moment.

The elevator stopped with a familiar ring, and the doors opened to present an amazing penthouse decorated with all your favourite colours. Wanda gasped entering the palace while admiring the expensive furniture and the professional decoration, the blue and black along with the white and soft tones of green contrasted beautifully with the interior. You were just as surprised as Wanda, your feet took you deeper into the living room, down to the dining room and then to the hall leading to four different doors.

You stepped back making your way to the kitchen where there was a single note waiting for you.

You owed me a big deal kid, there is champagne on the fridge and everything else was done according to your specifications. Enjoy!

Tony S.

You smiled at the note making your way to the fridge, the bottle was waiting right there for you and you decided to put it out along with some glasses. Wanda came to you still in awed with what she just saw.

“Tony really outdid himself with these apartments.” Wanda tilted her head watching in amusement as you open the bottle, serving the champagne with a smile. “Did you know he had finished your place already?”

You nodded presenting Wanda with one glass, the young woman took it furrowing her brows for a moment.

“Was this the second part of your surprised to me?” Wanda finally asked, you took a long sip from the champagne shaking your head.

With a deep breath you stepped closer to Wanda, the sudden air around the both of you changed and Wanda felt the tension radiating from you. Your hand grabbed the glass putting it on the kitchen counter before leaning in to kiss Wanda.

Just like everything that was happening that day, the kiss turned out to be completely different. It was an invitation, a tentative question you didn’t dare to voice just yet; Wanda felt her knees buckled under the pressure, your hand wrapping around her waist putting her closer to you, your leg placing itself in between her legs, your other hand placed possessively on the back of her neck helping you into deepening the kiss.

You smiled hearing the whimper that scaped Wanda’s lips when you broke the kiss leaning back, her eyes had darkened again trembling under your touch. Her cheeks flustered, and her lips swollen from the kissing.

“Y/N?” And her voice was trembling under the confusion and the arousal she felt at the moment, you leaned in pressing your forehead against hers. Your lips ghosting above hers, breathing in her perfume and the singular aroma that was her.

You opened your mouth, but not words came.

You stepped back in frustration; you want to make of this moment something memorable but you were unsure as to how to put it in words. Wanda furrowed her brows, following you her arms wrapped around you making you look back at her.

“Y/N, what is it?” She finally asked, and while it was evident there was arousal in there was concern and a question she wanted to ask but dare not to.

With a single breath, you grabbed her hand and placed it on top of your temple. Wanda opened her eyes shocked.

“Are you sure?” She asked in a whispered, you smiled at her giving her silent permission with a single gesture.

The moment her fingertips touched your temple, and the red wisps of magic danced around your head Wanda gasped loudly. You made sure whatever it was you need to tell her was there for her to see, your eyes gleamed black just as her gleamed red.

Wanda felt it first, the waves of lust and arousal coming from you. Your desire for her, your eagerness to touch her and make her reach ectasis while screaming your name; Wanda saw your hesitation, she found herself glancing at a very familiar scene in which you were taught the usefulness of sex during missions. How you were afraid to treat Wanda the way you had treated others in the past.

You wanted for this to be special.

You wanted Wanda to know that you had never touched anyone before her the way you wanted to touch her.

There was no need for sex, you knew this. And yet, you just wanted to give yourself to Wanda the way Wanda had given you so much in such little time.

You want to show her that you were hers now and forever.

Wanda felt tears rolling down her cheeks, she locked eyes with you and found the pure adoration you felt for her there. Wanda would be lying if she said she didn’t think about it, of course she had. She thought about it when she saw you training with Natasha and got to see the muscles of your arms and legs. She thought about it when you picked her up or straddled her while playing around, and she thought about it when the both of you made out on the bed or the sofa.

But the young witch had never pressed matters because she knew how much you had suffered due to the physical contact, you had shown her what you were made to do, how you were made to do it…at what age they started you. So Wanda had never pressed you to do anything that you didn’t feel comfortable with, perhaps it was something the both of you should had talked about but it wasn’t that important.

And the end of the day Wanda had realized, it really wasn’t that important as long as she had you.

But now…seeing you like this, all exited but fearful, ready but unsure… it made her heart swelled with affection for you. She really was in love with you the way she would never be with anyone else.

Wanda grabbed your cheeks in her hands, she leaned in smiling at you.

“My love, I’ll do whatever you want to do right now, I would love nothing more than make love to you, but I will be as happy with just cuddling with you enjoying the closeness and the love you provide.” She tried to pour her emotions in her words, making sure you understood what she was trying to convey.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your lips curled into a content smile just as you place your hands on her waist.

“I want to make love to you, Little Witch.” You declared simply, with affection dripping from your tone.

“Then, love, kiss me.”

Wanda knew you were experienced.

Of course, you were, it was something you had learnt in your line of work.

What she never expected to experience was the raw emotions that your touch brought to her, not sooner had she asked you to kiss her you were devouring her lips, your hands touching gently the length of her back and the side of her body, your fingertips brushing and kneading those spots that made her react.

The clothes were left alongside the hall, you guided Wanda slowly but surely to the main room where the bed and a couple of artificial candles were already waiting for you setting the romantic atmosphere Wanda had always talked about whenever the both of you watched a movie.

Wanda let out a breathy laugh when her eyes found the petals of roses on the floor, and the candles illuminating the room. The bedsheets were black and blue, and everything was just out of one of those movies. Her eyes found yours, and you knew you did something well because she was smiling brightly at you.

“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” she whispered letting her hands travelled down your naked torso, the warm of her palms making you shiver with anticipation as she cupped your breast in her hands. “God, I don’t know…I love you so much, I’m …I’m afraid of losing you or thinking this is just an illusion…”

You furrowed your brows locking your eyes with hers, grabbing her hands in yours you led her to the bed helping her up while you pressed your knee on the mattress.

“I will never let it happen, Wanda. For as long as you want me, I am yours.” You whispered kissing her again, leaning in until her back was on the bed and you were hovering above her.

You broke the kiss, your lips curling slightly watching Wanda with laboured breathing and her hands on your arms.

“Do you trust me?” You asked in a whisper, she merely nodded and you let your fingertips brush lightly on her eyelids. “Close your eyes, and don’t open them, let me love you tonight.”

The husky tinge in your voice, the heated coming in waves from your body made Wanda shivered, and she closed her eyes obediently. You bit the inside of your cheeks, leaning in placing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw to her neck; you enjoyed the sounds coming from her throat, the way she tilted her head to give you space to continue with the kisses, her hands grasping tightly around your forearms.

You had done this before, many missions in which you were to be a willing participant and others in which you were there for the final prize.

Wanda was different.

And everything that you were doing to her was so much different. You sighed into her skin, your left hand dancing around her body while your mouth travelled down her neck sucking lightly on the skin while your tongue soothe the light bites. The moans tearing out of her mouth were music for your ears, your fingertips mapping out the skin you had imagined up until now, brushing against one hardened nipple chuckling when a cursed left those lips.

Never once did Wanda opened her eyes.

Whatever you were doing, the fact she could no see but only feel was driving her mad. She could feel the texture of your lips traveling down the length of her neck, the teasing nibbles and the flickering of a playful tongue just as a pair of fingers pinched on a hardened nipple, her hips lifted from the mattress and a moan left her mouth when a volt of electricity went all the way to her core.

“Y/N…” your name sounded like a prayer, your eyes closing enjoying the sound of her voice. Your name on her lips, your hands dancing around her abdomen, your mouth tasting every single corner of her shoulders and her collarbone.

Moving down until you found the hem of the skirt she had chosen that day, you watched fascinated as Wanda grabbed the bed sheets her mouth hanging open and her eyes tightly close. The muscles of her abdomen and arms jumping whenever your mouth discovered a new sensitive spot you could explore while playing with the hem of her skirt, deciding if it was wise to take it off or not.

Your games took a couple of minutes, your mouth teasingly danced around her skin never touching those hardened knots on her breast or moving down beyond the well worked out abdomen. Your fingers and your hands moving down to spread her legs touching the soft skin of her inner thighs.

“Please, Y/N…” Her voice sounded broken, almost like a whine. You lifted your head and her green eyes were glancing down at you.

You sat up taking the warm of your body off of hers, Wanda groan in frustration her eyes gleaming red while a petulant pout formed on her face.

“Y/N, please…” She started but you shook your head, lifting a hand you made a gesture with two of your fingers. Wanda swallowed nodding before closing her eyes, you smiled at that standing up only to grab her skirt putting it off in a single pulled.

Your eyes darkened completely at the sight of her dark panties already sporting a wet spot in the middle, her boots and socks came soon after and you took of your shoes and pants along your underwear leaving yourself and her completely naked. You sighed taking all the courage you could muster, ready to show Wanda all the love you had for her.

You started by kissing her feet, smiling when Wanda let out a giggle, her finger wiggling playfully while your fingertips brushed against the skin on her ankle moving up alongside your mouth. You were not thinking about anything else that wasn’t to worship the woman in front of you, your own pleasure linked directly with hers.

Your lips moving up, kissing the back of her knees up to the warm skin on her thighs, the smell of her arousal making you groan with want. The sounds of her ragged breathing, and the moans leaving her lips were enhancing your own experienced as you focused on what you had in front of you.

The moment your tongue flickered out; you closed your eyes moaning with pleasure at the taste that was purely Wanda. Your hands placed firmly around her hips; Wanda let out a whimper mixed out with a scream her hands gripping the bedsheets tightly while she tried to buck her hips to get more of your tongue in her.

You moaned leaning in, your tongue licking teasingly on those pussy lips before you let it trace the dripping slit enjoying the reactions you were getting from Wanda. The young witch was driving herself to the edge by the mere contact of the tongue in between her legs, she wanted to desperately open her eyes and see you licking her mound but the fear of you stopping was more than enough to make her clenched her eyes shut tightly.

It was extremely pleasurable to just imagine you licking and kissing her pussy, your eyes concentrating in the task at hand while your mouth move enthusiastically lapping at her juices, flickering around her clit while probing at her entrance with playful thrusts of your tongue.

God, the mere thought of you doing all of this, while your hands sought out to rub her abdomen until they reach on her breast. Wanda arched her back with her hips bucking upwards, her eyes caught the sound of your moans while the vibrations of your mouth clashed against her sensitive pussy making her screamed again.

“God, Y/N…please….please…” Wanda was not sure why she was begging, or what exactly she was looking for.

It didn’t matter because it seemed as if you knew exactly what Wanda wanted, your flattened tongue pressed against her clit and Wanda let out a breathy screamed when two of your fingers entered her in one swift thrust.

It was all it took, she was shivering under you mewling while your name left her lips in a shattering scream, her orgasm making her trembled and spasm around you.

Wanda didn’t know exactly what happened, her eyes were still close and she was shivering under your body, your tongue sneaking inside her mouth and the young witch moan tasting herself in you.

The moment she opened her eyes you were wearing a content smile, your eyes gleaming happily at her and Wanda couldn’t help but think you look cute like this.

“God, Y/N…I love you.” She said unable to think of anything else to say, you leaned in rubbing the tip of your nose against hers.

For a moment you were about to touch her but her hands grabbed yours, her smirked grew and soon she turned you around hovering above you.

“Now, detka, it’s my turn.” You opened your eyes wide, and just as you had done before she lifted a hand and with uttered cared close your eyelids. “Do you trust me?”

You hesitated for moment before speaking, “with my life.”

Wanda stopped for a moment, her heart swelling with emotions she could barely hold back.

“Then, detka, let me make you feel love…let me love you like no one had ever done so before me.”

Wanda had learnt a long time ago that you were highly susceptible to words and to touch, it could be your touch-starve nature due to your uprising and the lack of conversations you held when you were but a kid and a teen.

Whatever the case, Wanda let her hands caressed every inch of your body, her lips right beside your ear prising your performance telling you she had never come so hard for anyone. How her heart was beating only for you, and that you were all she needed it.

Wanda’s hands went to your breast squeezing them lightly, while her fingers played with the nipples pinching and pulling at them before her mouth closed around them. You let out a moan bucking your hips seeking relief. The young witch smirked sucking on your nipple while her hand slid down your abdomen cupping your dripping pussy in her hand, she let go of you moaning alongside you her lips right above you.

“Y/N, you’re so wet, baby.” The moment her lips closed around yours, her fingers flickered on your clit and Wanda drank your whimpers as she kissed you passionately.

Soon you were trashing under her, your hands on her arms and her hand moving all the way to your entrance, Wanda was fascinated at how easy was for you to give up your control to her. How your trusted in her was so complete you have your eyes closed and were giving her everything you were. Everything you had.

She started trusting inside you, over and over, her lips moving to your ear.

“Please detka, come for me.” That was all it took, your inner walls clenched around her fingers and Wanda watched with fascination as you came around her fingers a scream of her name leaving your lips.

“Wanda!”

It was fascinating for her, she rode out your orgasm until you were whimpering with discomfort. Wanda kissed you softly snuggling to you, placing tender kisses on your neck and jaw until she felt your arms wrapping tightly around you.

Nothing else was said that night, the both of you fall asleep enjoying the breathing of the other the smell of sex in the room. The heartbeat that seemed to beat as one.

______________________________________________________________

You woke up to a pair of green eyes looking down at you.

Wanda was always beautiful in the mornings, but on that morning in particular she was breath-taking. She had a smile on her face, her fingertips were drawing lazy figures on your abdomen you stretched out smiling back at her your eyes drifting down to see her completely naked pressed against you.

“Like what you see?” She asked playfully, leaning against her arm. You nodded turning around so you two were facing each other your fingers went to draw the same patterns on her arm.

“I like it too.” She said to which you merely snickered, she leaned in kissing you softly on the lips. “Last night…”

You tensed slightly, your eyes drifting to the side before they settled back on Wanda. The redhead smiled tenderly at you, she understood without you having to say anything at all. She always did.

“Last night was really magical, Y/N. It was everything I imagine would be with you.” Wanda snuggled closer to you, never breaking the eye contact. “And I can’t think of anyone I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Marry me?” You blurted out before you can contain yourself, your eyes opened wide just as Wanda opened hers.

You shook your head, your body stiffened and your mouth opened and closed trying to get the words out before Wanda could leave before she could just say how a fucking moron you were for blurting something so stupid just after sex. Who did that?

The reaction you got from Wanda was not something you were expecting, she went right ahead to crash her lips against yours until you were on your back. Wanda was smiling, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes I will marry you if that’s what you want.” You chuckled shaking your head when Wanda started placing kisses on your face.

You grabbed her hands in yours, turning you two around until it was you the one of top of her. She was chuckling happily, tilting her head to lock her eyes on yours.

“Did you mean it or the sex was that fantastic?” You chuckled rubbing your nose to hers, there was a flickered of hesitation in your eyes and for a moment Wanda thought you were going to back off without saying anything.

You broke your defences at that moment, Wanda watched with fascination as all protective barriers around your eyes left and all that was left was you.

“I meant it…not now, not tomorrow, probably not next year.” You said with your voice taking in a deep, serious tone Wanda was familiar with. “I don’t want to do this all my life, the fight, the missions. But you, Wanda, I want to be by your side all my life. Be a family. Be with you.”

Wanda melted at your words, whenever you decided to speak it was the most amazing experience for her. You never used your words in vain, and what always brough a bubble of happiness to Wanda was that she was your favourite person to talk to.

“So, Wanda Maximoff, would you marry me?”

Wanda sighed nodding lifting her head to meet your lips in a sweet kiss, “yes, Y/N, I will marry you. Not today, not tomorrow, probably no next year, but I will and we can build our family, right outside the suburbs…”

You chuckled lifting your hand and moving your pinkie finger, Wanda laughed at the absurdity of your actions but followed you lifting her hand and entangling her pinkie finger with yours.

“Pinkie promise.” She whispered before sealing the promised with a deep kiss.

The rest of the morning was spend showing one another just how much they loved one another, how their future was looking brighter.

How it was looking like a promise.

#WandaxReader #Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader #Wanda Maximoff x F!READER #Wanda Maximoff x Reader #imagine wanda maximoff #Wanda smut #Reader smut #Female Reader

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viperbarnes · 2 years

Text

Do You Trust Me? [1/3]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A mission in remote Siberia goes terribly wrong, leaving you stranded with the Winter Soldier instead of Bucky. What’s worse, he believes you to be his handler, leaving it up to you to make sure you both get home safely, while protecting Bucky from those who would enslave him again.

Warnings: cussing maybe? not much. mutual pining abounds <3

Author’s Note: pls ignore the fact Bucky is ‘fixed’ okay i just need this one thing for my plot to work :D

Words: 6.2k

[1. A PROMISE]

Your breath catches in your throat as the floor suddenly falls away from beneath you, your eyes only managing to look down in time to catch it disappearing. Panicked, you throw both your arms out instinctively to catch yourself, your mind fleetingly praising yourself for being up to date on all your shots.

In the real world, however, you don’t even have time to stop yourself from yelping before the ground rushes to greet you..

Impact never comes though, and instead you find yourself staring up into the slightly displeased face of one Bucky Barnes. His lips slowly purse as he helps you right yourself, like he had to physically hold back whatever quip had come to mind, and you’re only able to blink meekly up at his unrelenting stare.

“Sorry…” you mumble sheepishly, your eyes briefly shooting down to find the piece of busted-out scrap metal crawling with tetanus you’d nearly become one with. Bucky’s expression shifts slightly from displeased to even-more displeased, and he releases his hold on you to place his hand back on his rifle. You attempt to break through his frown with an apologetic smile, but his frown only deepens before he beckons you to follow his once again.

As glad as you are for Bucky’s guidance through this rusty old HYDRA base, you wish he’d never had to return here at all. Ever since you’d touched down in Siberia, his normally playful jabs and stoic teasing had all but vanished, leaving behind perpetual frowns and heavy silences that didn’t take a mind reader to hear loud and clear.

Maybe you only noticed because you tended to notice a lot of things about Bucky Barnes, but you’re pretty sure Sam would have picked up on it too. Bucky was anxious, nervous even, to be back here, so close to the collection of scattered bunkers and training facilities the majority of his nightmares took place in. He absolutely had every right to be, but that didn’t mean it didn’t put you on edge as well.

For as long as you’d known him, you’d never seen Bucky properly unnerved by anything. Worried, sure, but never enough to have retreated so fully into himself like this. Even when he was angry or upset by something, which wasn’t all that infrequent if you were honest, he always seemed comfortable enough to complain or snark loudly about it, if not glare daggers at the subject of his mood, sentient or not. This wasn’t any of that. It was as if he subconsciously was trying to show as little emotional reaction to anything as possible.

You try not to think about why.

Luckily, this base was not one of the many in the area that he had ever visited during his capture by HYDRA, this little rustpot having been put out of commission as far back as the sixties, from what you’d been able to gather from the boys’ prior recon here.

Amazingly, the facility still had a sort of primitive computer archiving system that you had theorised held some pretty valuable information about the other bunkers in frozen wastes, unfortunately however, due to its analogue nature, there was no way for you to access or hack into it remotely, and as capable as Sam and Bucky were, they were no tech geeks. Not in the way you were anyway, which is why they kept you around in the first place.

It had been a whole thing convincing them to let you go to Siberia in person to collect the data before the bunker was destroyed for good. Sam actually hadn’t minded so much beyond not wanting you to go alone, but Bucky had made a fuss over the whole thing, dragging it out right up until the deadline, rightfully pointing out that you were not a field agent of any sort, and as such, had absolutely no manner of skills that would help make you only slightly less than a complete and utter liability to everyone around you.

Eventually, common sense won out though, and he had sulkily volunteered that he be the one to go with you.

You know that he wasn’t really that worried about you having no field training, no matter how many times he muttered darkly about it. He was more than capable of seeing you safely about the mission. Truth was, you’d caught him and Sam on their comms. a few days ago, when they hadn’t realised their mics were still feeding into your headset after signing off.

“Sam, she’s not like us, you know that,” Bucky had all but begged. You could hear Sam sigh, and a shuffling sound like he was turning to or away from his best friend.

“And-- and I’m pretty sure we’ve been watched on the last few visits out there,” he continues, sounding perhaps a little nervous to be admitting such a thing out loud.

“I know I’m paranoid about this stuff, but I’m serious this time, Sammy. Something’s been off.”

Bucky had fallen quiet then, clearly waiting for the other man to respond.

“Is that really what you’re worried about? Being watched?” As always, Sam’s voice is kind, but firm, cutting straight to the heart of Bucky’s argument, not allowing him to hide behind his anxieties.

There’s a pause, longer this time.

“We know that they’d get her back if they could. It’s the perfect location for an ambush,” Bucky’s voice sounded resigned, and you can quite clearly hear the muffled sound of a hand running through hair.

“I won’t let them take her again. When I found her in that cell, I made her a promise that we wouldn’t let them hurt her ever again. I’d let them have me before I break that promise, and I’ve made it clear to you before that they won’t be taking me alive, Sam.”

You’d shut off the feed after that, the feeling that you were intruding becoming too much.

You’d done your best not to think about Bucky’s admission since then, but ever since you’d stepped foot inside the snow-covered hidden bunker, his words had been on repeat inside your mind.

It wasn’t the idea that Bucky truly felt you weren’t safe that had struck you though. It was the fact Bucky intended on giving himself up before he’d let you be captured again.

You had known for a while that Bucky considered you a friend, even if he didn’t open up to you the same way he did with Sam. He kept you at arms length, and you were well aware of it. Any time your conversations flowed a little too close to the heart, he’d clam up and make an excuse to leave. If you didn’t know any better, you might have assumed he didn’t like you very much, but he always found his way back to orbiting you, whether he seemed to like it or not.

But if you had overheard his conversation with Sam without knowing the context, you would never have believed Bucky had been talking about you. You remembered the promise he mentioned, but you had no idea it was something he remembered.

You’d always considered it a well-meant and at least somewhat truthful platitude, spoken to a traumatised woman recently freed from imprisonment.

“The main archive… computer… thing, is just through here,” Bucky’s voice snaps you out of your head, and you look at where he gestures, frowning a little at what you see.

“Is that… two-way glass?” you ask, curious about why the wall in front of you gave way to what seemed like a viewing window into the room beyond.

It almost reminded you of the setup of a police station interview room.

Bucky shifts on his feet as his eyes flicker over the panel briefly, before they land back on you.

“Redwing said it was a reinforced polycarbonate,”

“Whatever that means,” he adds quickly, forever unwilling to sound grateful to the little red robot. You don’t even think to poke fun at him for it, your mind working faster now, though towards what end, you aren’t sure.

“That means it’s bulletproof,” you say incredulously, looking back at Bucky in confusion.

“This base was shut down in what? The early sixties?” you ask, earning a nod from the man beside you. You shake your head.

“Polycarbonate, any type of glass-clad polycarbonate, wasn’t even invented until the eighties. That doesn’t make sense,” you peer up at Bucky, but he doesn’t have any answers for you.

The supersoldier blinks at the information, taking it in with gradually pursing lips.

“I guess advanced metal prosthetics weren’t really a thing until recently, either…” he says, but you can hear in his voice that he’s not satisfied either.

“Well… maybe we can figure more out by getting at this data…” you sigh, and gesture at the room beyond the mystery-glass.

The door into the ‘records room’, as the Russian Cyrilic printed on the wall next to it reads, is another heavy vault-like door, it must have been at least a foot and a half thick. It reminded you of the sort you’d seen on old submarines or U-boats. A large centre wheel appeared to move an intricate selection of bars that locked into the frame when shut and the wheel was spun all the way to the one side.

You suppose such a door could have been installed to protect the extremely delicate machinery inside from the harsh temperatures and climates of the long Siberian winters, and you’d even be willing to believe that it was the only reason the machine had lasted this long unattended to.

It still gave you the creeps, though.

You wait and watch as Bucky moves the wheel, undoing the latches that kept it shut tight. When he begins to pull it open, you’re honestly surprised to see the super soldier struggle a little with the weight of it, although, it probably doesn’t help that all the hinges and bolts looked like they were made of more rust than they were metal.

When you at last take the first few steps inside, you’re comforted by Bucky’s close presence just behind you.

The room before you isn’t overly large, but it was almost entirely taken up by positively ancient looking racks and towers and faded coloured wires, plugged into about as many matching sockets. Immediately the thing draws distinct similarities to the designs of the very first computers ever made, and if Sam and Bucky were right about the era this base had shut down, it would definitely make sense.

Toward the centre of the machine you spy a small alcove area, clearly set aside for the operator to sit and work at. The desk and wall in front of it were covered in dials, buttons, knobs and other input-devices you weren’t sure the purpose of yet, but you were excited to find out. Amongst it all was only one very small screen, the glass of which was caked in decades of dust and grime.

“I know this was made by HYDRA and all… but it is sort of impressive they managed it,” you say with less wonder than your words might initially give way to. Really, your mind was just stuck thinking about all the other incredible, horrible, advances they’d made secretly, with no oversight or moral guidance.

Not that Bucky was horrible or anything, quite the opposite, but the heights of mind-control they’d reached with him alone were enough to prove your point.

Even after the Wakandan scientists had provably been able to desensitise Bucky to the ten trigger words, more recent discoveries in the old bases and archives the team had been raiding, had revealed plenty of other possible methods for the Winter Soldier to make an unwanted appearance.

The words had apparently just been the most reliable.

“Scary, probably used for lots of evil… still sort of impressive,” you clarify.

As if thinking the same thoughts as you, Bucky shifts uncomfortably and adjusts his grip on the rifle he holds.

“Let’s just get this done so we can get the hell outta here and go home,” his voice holds steady, but his twitching cheek and eye muscles give him away.

You know he’s still on edge, and you want to reach out, ask if there was anything that could settle him, but you know right now the only thing that will help is to be done with it.

Instead, you hum your agreement, and swivel toward the user console, ready to pull the secrets from this ancient monstrosity and onto your miniature raspberry-pi computer card.

You’d have to crack open the panelling of the machine to find a way to tether them, but you were certain it was possible. If not, you could always ask Bucky to carry the biggest block of memory cores for you.

Leaving with at least something would be better than leaving with nothing, especially if it helped track down other leads and information about HYDRA’s activities.

It takes a few hours for you to sort through the hundreds of lines of useless code put in place as a block, and you theorise that if you had some kind of keycard, like one that clearly fit the empty slot next to the tiny screen, then perhaps it would have automated that process in seconds for you. Minutes, at the most.

Effectively, an ancient password.

What's done is done, though, and you weren’t about to ask Bucky to leave you alone in here to go look for something you weren’t even sure could be found, so you begin the process of jacking in your mini computer and begin copying over masses of raw data.

Briefly you consider the absurdity of using your teeny, tiny raspberry-pi to hack into this archaic terminal, and how your credit-card sized device would still have more power and memory capabilities snapped in half, than the entire room-sized module could ever even hope to process.

When you got home, you’d have the task of pulling out and deciphering all of the data you received from its raw, analogous code, but if you were being honest that was the part you were most excited about.

That’s why you were the computer analyst on the team.

It’s also probably why you weren’t all that suited to field work.

Later, you would ask yourself how you and Bucky were possibly snuck up on considering his enhanced senses and heightened alertness, but you’d end up theorising that the records room was designed to be as insular, as it was designed to be totally locked down at a moments notice.

The first thing that happens, is that the two-foot thick vault door screeches deafeningly as it moves mechanically, swinging closed on you and Bucky with a loud, booming bang.

The second thing that happens is that the wheel on the outside spins itself until all eight of the connected deadbolts, all of which you unhelpfully recall being about as thick as your forearm, lock into place rapidly, one after the other.

You’re on your feet in seconds, fear and lightheadedness already creeping up on you at the mere thought of being locked in.

“Why did it do that? Bucky?” You try to keep your cool, but all you can hear in your head is Bucky’s voice, reminding you that you have no field training and no experience in remaining calm under pressure.

Bucky doesn’t answer you, his gun now slung over his shoulder in favour of running his hands over the inside of the door, in a manner that seemed like it could result in a secret release being found, but more importantly, very much did not.

You see him make an attempt to grip the tiny seam of the door, but it’s impossibly thin, you aren’t even sure air could pass through it.

“Bucky?!” you repeat his name, anxious at his lack of response. He lets out a frustrated growl as he steps away from the door and fixes you with an aggravated glare.

“I’m figuring it out!” he snaps, but you don’t let his stressed irritation scare you off of moving closer to him.

He paces a few steps back and forth, even tries his phone for signal all the while you lurch nearer, your hand now blindly reaching for him, your eyes glued on the glass behind him.

“Bucky!” you croak, more desperately this time as you finally manage to grab hold of his arm.

Bucky stops when your hand wraps vice-like around his wrist, all of his ire sapped out of him when he hears the fear and alarm in your voice.

He’d forgotten what you sounded like when you were afraid.

All this time he’d kept his resolve, kept you always at a distance as best he could, maintaining an air of detachment, and staunch self-restraint. He hadn’t been able to stay away entirely though, so tentatively, he’d become your friend, but he never let it go further than that. He never let himself get too close.

You’d already been through enough in your life, and Bucky wasn’t about to let you get mixed up with all of his baggage as well. But… he’d forgotten what you sounded like when you were afraid. He’d managed to convince himself somewhere along the line that anything he felt was purely platonic, that he cared about you in only the same way he cared for Sam, and Sarah, and the kids.

Bucky follows your gaze, and feels his pulse stop altogether. Beyond the records room, clearly visible through the reinforced glass window stood a man, his lips pulled taut in a hideously wide grin. He stared back at Bucky maniacally, his eyes locked onto the other man.

He didn’t recognise the man, but it was alarmingly clear to Bucky that this man recognised him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, Soldat,” the stranger’s voice rings out into the enclosed room perfectly, as if the glass viewing window had been designed for the very purpose.

“What do you want?” Bucky hisses, moving in front of you, blocking you from view, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The man never takes his eyes off of Bucky.

“‘I want that Soldat in the window’,” he says in an almost sing-song, his head cocking as he drops his gaze for the first time in order to appraise the super soldier, raking his eyes over him in the same way you might inspect a prize-animal.

Bucky’s skin crawls.

He wants to open his mouth to reply, wants to move and figure a way out, but he’s rooted to the spot under the stranger’s penetrating stare. Instead, without really thinking, Bucky squares his shoulders and lifts his chin, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth together. It had been so long since he’d felt this exposed, this powerless in his own mind and body, like he was just a thing, a piece of meat, the evening's entertainment.

Bucky’s breath gets caught in his throat, and a sickening sense of dread begins to fill his lungs. He flexes his fists at his sides, as if to prove to himself that he still had control, but he still can’t seem to move his feet.

The man on the other side of the glass moves his body without even tearing his gaze from Bucky, and he reaches into the breast pocket of the heavy, snow-dusted coat he’s wearing. He pulls his hand out again with a theatrical flair, displaying to you both what appeared to be a large, ornate fob watch hanging from a chain. Somehow his grin seems to become even wider and even more deranged.

Abject terror replaces the dread that had been building in Bucky’s chest, and as if physically hit, he takes an involuntary step backward.

In the files the team had discovered while searching and destroying the other derelict HYDRA facilities, they had found a lot of information about Bucky’s past, about the various methods used to break him, and to make him obedient. The electroshock and the trigger words had proved the most reliable, but they were certainly not the only way for HYDRA to control him. Hidden deep in the mounds of data and reports, there had been mention of a watch that ticked irregularly and only counted down from sixty second.

One minute.

Behind him, your hand grazes his arm, and Bucky’s dread returns. He only had one minute to ensure your safety.

Bucky doesn’t wait to watch the man flick the watch face open, the realisation that you were in incredible danger spurring him on now, and allowing him to regain control of his body.

The odd design of the room seems to amplify the out-of-time and off-key ticking that now filled the air.

You jump as he turns to face you, your eyes wide and it’s clear that you understood the stranger’s intentions with the watch. Bucky all but tears the rifle from his shoulder and hangs the strap around your neck.

“The minute that glass breaks, you run. Don’t stop, don’t look back, just run,” he instructs you, pushing the weapon into your hands clumsily moulding your fingers to hold it properly. He flicks the safety off and lifts it between you, making sure he has your full attention.

“If you see me after you get out, don’t think, just hold down the trigger and keep it down until I stop moving,” he hates that he’s had some version of these instructions memorised for years now just in case, that he always knew what he’d say if it ever came to this.

The tears filling your eyes make his chest burn, but just as he had been for years, he pushes it aside. Right now, Bucky really needed you to listen to him. You could cry later if you got the chance.

“Do you understand? I need you to tell me you understand,” he doesn’t intend to shake you, but his hands have found their way to your shoulders now, and it does it’s job of snapping you to attention.

“Bucky?” you sound just as terrified as the first time Bucky had heard your voice.

At least he can take some peace in knowing that the stranger was here for him, and not you, and maybe he wouldn’t bother with you.

He squeezes your shoulders.

“Glass breaks, you run, okay?” he doesn’t wait for your reply, by his count thirty seconds had already passed. He tears himself away from your startled frame and prays to any god who might listen that you do as he’d told you.

Bucky throws himself at the reinforced glass with all of his strength, feeling it bend a little in the centre, so he begins focusing his efforts there.

In his ears the ticking seems to get louder and quieter all the time burrowing it’s way into the deepest parts of his brain as he bashes savagely against the glass. His fists are bloody and raw by the time the first major crack erupts under his blows.

For the first time since his arrival, the stranger’s grin falters, and he takes a small step backwards as the crack begins to grow.

The sound of the watch was making it nearly impossible for the super soldier to keep his senses, but he doesn’t relent, continuing to pound against the slick, bloodied surface with every ounce of strength he had in him. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing it anymore, he only knows that no matter what, he can’t stop.

At last the window shatters, bursting outward in jagged, ugly pieces that seemed to be covered in somebody’s blood.

His last clear and lucid thought as the glass fractures is to lunge for the man in front of him.

He can’t recall his orders anymore, but nonetheless the Soldier obeys.

---

You stand absolutely frozen in place, petrified as you watch the mass of sheer, unadulterated rage that was inhabiting Bucky’s body, pounce through the pathway of broken glass, and directly for the stranger who had started all of this.

Both men soar to the ground, but only one stays moving, stays conscious, his whole body heaving with the effort he’d just exerted.

A voice that sounds a lot like Bucky’s screams at you to run, but that would take you too close to where he now straddled the other man’s body. The gun in your hands is too heavy, too bulky for your frame, but you tighten your grip on it anyway, tears prickling in your eyes at the thought of having to use it.

You stand in stunned and terrified silence for several more seconds, staring at Bucky’s hunched frame until your thoughts gather, and reality hits you.

That wasn’t Bucky anymore, and you needed to run.

You can only thank the adrenaline lighting up your system for letting you get anywhere near the bloody and broken mess. It brings you close enough to touch with the two men, but you don’t even look back at them, not even as your forearm catches a toothy piece of glass, pain shooting through you as the serrated edge tears into your skin, and rips open your sleeve.

For several seconds as you run, all you can hear is your own heart beating frantically in your ears, and the sound of your feet hitting the concrete floor. The gun grasped in your hands slows you down, but you couldn’t let it go even if you tried.

When you push your way through the open entrance, you aren't prepared for the change in temperature or terrain, the thick snow tripping you up almost immediately, but you right yourself and keep pushing. Large splotches of red seem to colour the snow wherever you run, but it isn’t until the gun becomes too slippery to keep a hold of that you realise you’re bleeding.

Taking a look back at where you’d come from, you see you’ve made it barely twenty yards from the hidden entrance. In the distance you can make out the car you’d arrived in, parked by the main road, still so far away. Falling to your knees, you let out a cry of frustration as you attempt to dig your fallen weapon from the snow, but your fingers keep slipping.

You can’t bring yourself to freeze in terror when a shadow falls over you, desperate to get a half decent grip on the rifle that seemed to be sinking further and further into the snow with every futile effort.

You aren’t all that surprised when a large hand wraps itself around your uninjured wrist, but you are surprised by the lack of pain that follows. Firmly the hand pulls against your search in the snow, until you’re unable to continue reaching for the lost gun, and are instead forced to face the owner of the shadow and the hand.

The wind howls furiously in your ears all of a sudden, as if the whole world had been on mute until now, the cold air making you realise your cheeks sting and burn from where the icy winds have been whipping at the tear tracks. Foolishly, you let yourself hope for the best as you lift your gaze to look at the man crouched beside you in the snow, his hand swapping to your other arm now, where he holds the wounded limb steadily, at an angle you think might be working to slow the bleeding.

At first you’re filled with relief to see Bucky, looking just the same as he had four minutes ago, albeit with his own bloodied hands, his stern expression somewhat familiar to you. However, the more you stare, the less you recognise, until you find yourself blinking up at a total stranger.

The realisation hits you once again that this man is not Bucky, and you should never have stopped running.

The man only stares back at you, his unnaturally blank expression ruined only by a single creased line between his brows, as if he was trying to remember how to frown. His gaze seems to look straight through you, oblivious to your wide-eyes and your growing panic, until he shifts his eyes away from your face, back to your arm that he still held in his firm grip.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even stop or register the way you flinch violently when he lifts his other hand, his metal one, and tears off the ripped fabric of your coat. With exacting precision, he ties the fabric around your cut and knots it off.

And then he stares at you again, waiting.

Your throat feels bone-dry, the rest of you feeling sickly and feverish, like you could throw up at any moment.

As fruitless as it feels, staring across at this stranger wearing the face of your friend, you can’t help yourself.

“… Bucky…?” you croak out, trying not to sound like you were begging. The man before you simply squints his eyes a little, searching your face as if trying to discern the word’s meaning.

A horrible thought strikes you then, making your stomach churn more violently, and this time, the word tumbles out of your lips like it pained you to keep it inside.

“S-Soldat?” your heart shatters in your chest when his eyes flash with recognition, and he lowers his chin in acknowledgement, waiting for further instruction.

Your lip quivers uncontrollably, and you feel like such a child, but you can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes, even as you wipe roughly at your face with your clean hand, but it does little to stop them. Falling back into the snow, you wrap your arms around your shins and try your best to get a hold of yourself.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t happening. Please? Please?” you don’t know who exactly you’re pleading and begging with, but you do know that when you un-scrunch your eyes, you’re still sitting in the snow, a total stranger staring back at you.

“какова моя миссия?” he says at last, slowly and uncertain, his voice sounding the same yet somehow completely different. It makes your tears sting even worse as you blink at him. When you don’t answer, he clenches his jaw and he lowers his chin slightly, as if he thought perhaps you hadn’t heard him.

“моя миссия?” he asks, but your familiarity with Russian extended only to the times Bucky would speak it. You recall hearing him over comms. uttering angrily under his breath, or switching into Russian to avoid answering questions, and on very rare occasions, when he’d lightly tease you, seemingly amused that you couldn’t understand him.

None of that helped you now though, as the strange words hang in the air between you.

A beat passes, and he shifts slightly on the spot.

“What is my mission?” he asks again, this time in English. Part of you expects to hear him sound a little annoyed or miffed at repeating himself, but there is a complete lack of emotion in his voice and it sounds so wrong. What you wouldn’t give to hear Bucky annoyed at you right now.

You shake your head, and sit up, using your clean sleeve to wipe your face again.

“No. No mission,” you hear yourself say firmly. His face instantly morphs into confusion that you might have found cute, if it were Bucky.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” for the first time his voice seems less robotic, less forced, speaking quieter, as if he suspected he were being tested.

“What is it you require of me?” he seems to prompt you when you don’t respond, and the question jolts you out of your shocked state.

You cast a brief glance back toward the hidden bunker, realising that if the man who did all of this was still alive, you probably shouldn’t continue to hang around this place for him to find you once again. Your heart pounds in your chest when you realise that if he found you right now, there was nothing you could do to stop him using the watch again. Somehow his last attempt left Soldat believing you were in charge of him, and as sick as the thought makes you, it also gave you the best shot to help Bucky.

Soldat follows your jerky movements with his eyes, not reacting in the slightest until you shakily push yourself to your feet. He rises gracefully, somehow seeming taller than you were used to. you ‘d never really realised how much Bucky seemed to hunch himself over, make himself smaller.

“A-actually, Buck--Soldat-- we… We do have a mission. We need to get away from here. Now… Can you help me do that?” You tell him trying to sound assured, and not like you were making this up as you went along. He doesn’t seem to notice or care though, his stature becoming even more intimidating as he straightens fully, nodding his affirmation to you, before casting his gaze around the gathering snow storm.

Clearing your throat, you point toward the front pocket on Bucky’s uniform, almost touching him, but pulling back when his head snaps down to look at your hand with clear distrust, though you notice he doesn’t move to stop you.

“T-there’s keys in your pocket. The car is over there,” you tell him, watching as he frowns again, and gingerly pulls the rattling keys out of the pocket you’d pointed to. He stares at them for a moment, before he clutches them tightly in his fist and nods at you. You find yourself surprised by the familiarity of the action, the first thing so far that didn’t seem a million miles away from the Bucky you knew, and you wonder if there were any other mannerisms Soldat and Bucky shared.

Swallowing thickly, you turn away from the ghost in front of you and begin moving. Seconds later, Soldat is suddenly two steps ahead of you. Your previously lost rifle is now held at the ready in his hands, as if he expected any number of threats to come at you through the thick blanket of snow.

His movements are rigid and mechanical, but there was no mistaking the deftness and fluency that undercut the execution. Soldat bore a severity and sharpness to him you’re almost certain Bucky still possessed, but made certain he never, ever displayed openly.

You can understand why.

Even though all he was doing was walking ahead of you cautiously, he did it with a ruthlessness that was genuinely frightening. Tearing your eyes away from him, you throw a last look back over your shoulder at the hidden bunker you can only just make out.

When it disappears fully into the otherwise-featureless landscape, you turn back to face Soldat.

Putting aside all further thoughts of the gulf that separated the two, you remind yourself firmly that this was still Bucky’s body. It wasn’t a different person, and this was still the same man who had begged you to run away, to get away from him, knowing what he could do to you otherwise, the man who you’d watched beat his fists to a mangled, bloody, mess trying to make sure you got a head start against himself.

You’d never seen Bucky truly, properly scared before today, couldn’t have even imagined it really, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget the way his expression had changed when he’d realised what was going to happen. Even now it makes your stomach sink and churn nauseatingly. He’d been worried about you, yes, but the seconds before he’d turned to you, you’d seen crystal-clear the terror he’d felt for himself.

You wonder if he was in there somewhere, still pounding his fists bloody trying to get out.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you square your shoulders and lift your chin in response. Whether or not he was aware, right now you couldn’t rely on Bucky to look after you. He couldn’t protect you from whatever happened next. He was the one who was completely vulnerable this time.

If the man who had triggered the Winter Soldier was alive, you doubt he’d just give up so easily, especially if he knew his plan had worked. Right now someone was out there planning once again to subject Bucky to all the traumas that he’d worked so hard to heal from. This time, Bucky was relying on you, and field training or not, if somebody wanted to get Soldat, you were going to make damn sure they had to go through you first.

@samanthacookieone @emmabarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/yn #bucky barnes x yn

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annasinterests · 11 months

Text

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

prologue

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: i am VERY excited and nervous to finally be posting on tumblr after having it since like,, 2014,, which is embarrassing as hell to admit.. but fuck it we ball! anyways, here is my first ever fic i'm sharing on this platform. i tend to write up a lot of things but have always been too intimidated to post them, so this is me trying to get over that! also, please know that this piece is completely optional. i only wrote it to give context on the relationship reader and joel have, plus ellie as well, but you absolutely can skip past it if that's not your cup of tea, or check back in later once i post more chapters! also, please bear with me as i get used to posting and including all the necessary tags and warnings & whatnot.

word count: 2.7k

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, swearing, mentions of violence & death, canon events, strangers to friends, friends to lovers? (we'll find out), slowburnish, pining, age gap (14-ish yrs) — please tell me if i missed anything!

You'd been at each other's side for nearly seventeen years, first meeting when you arrived in the Boston QZ almost eight years after outbreak day. To say you were a hardened survivor was putting it lightly; you had endured every unimaginable loss possible. Tragedy became a constant companion of yours as you lost beloved friends and family, and you grew to know nothing but anger and violence.

At first, you thought nothing of him. He was just your neighbor across the hall, coming and going at all different points throughout the day and night. Another face in the sea of struggling people. Your paths occasionally crossed during the same shift of the same shitty jobs FEDRA assigned for a cruel amount of ration cards. You'd exchange brief nods every so often, and on the rare occasion, a mutter that was only decipherable as a greeting.

On a chance encounter beyond the walls of the QZ, you ran into him with another woman during one of your smuggling runs. You had frozen, with no indication of the kind of people they were, they could've either kept it to themselves or reported you, essentially sentencing you to death. Thankfully, a higher power had been on your side that day as the woman had concluded you weren't a threat to them, simply giving you a nod before they carried on. It was a subtle understanding that passed around you three. You worry about your business, and I'll worry about mine.

Things shifted after that.

The more you would see them, either together or separately, the more of a connection began to form. It started off small– bowing your heads at one another in passing, giving the faintest of smiles. Notes would be slipped under your door from time to time with a tip regarding stashed goods or potential dangers within the QZ and outside of it. It would be signed off by 'Tess' or 'Joel', with Tess being the more frequent sender. In return, you'd do the same, leaving helpful tips and sometimes doubling what they had left for you.

It graduated to in-person visits, primarily initiated by Tess. Joel kept his distance for the most part, despite literally living across the hall. That didn't mean that his lingering gaze went unnoticed by you, though.

Over the next twelve years, you banded together as a trio. Trust was one of the rarest commodities to come across, and you had found it in one another. Over time, your walls had come down, and you shared parts of yourself that had been long buried for years. You’d engaged in casual conversations, tactical strategies, and even light-hearted banter at times.

Smuggling operations became a team effort, though often it left you to work with Joel alone. Tess would go off on her own for recon, utilizing her expertise and connections to gather vital information, also because she was way more likely to be reciprocated in her efforts compared to Joel. Nonetheless, you formed a formidable duo, working seamlessly together to navigate the dangers when they presented themselves.

There became an unspoken understanding between you and Joel that communicated in volumes. You developed a rhythm, anticipating each other's moves and providing support when it was needed the most. A dynamic that had set your relationship apart from Tess.

Through the long nights, you both shared snippets of your lives before the outbreak. He spoke of growing up in Texas, the memories of a time when life was normal and filled with simple pleasures, like playing guitar. He mentioned a distant brother, Tommy, who was somewhere out west. He'd worked as a contractor, though dreamed of building something of his own. He spoke with a hint of regret, remembering the long hours he worked while still struggling to make ends meet. Reluctantly, he'd even shared the fact that he had a daughter, though he hardly said her name or other details. The most you learned was that he had a daughter, and then he didn't.

You enlightened him about how you lived a calm life. You grew up in the mountains, which explained your affinity for nature, and you found solace in music. You had both your parents and a brother, who was your closest ally. If one of you were doing something, the other tagged along with no questions asked. It was a month in to your last year of high school when outbreak day came along, forever fucking up your life. You recounted the graphic and harrowing moments of loss, the pain of watching your loved ones fall one by one in the span of two years. The next four years were spent traveling alone in search of a place to close your eyes without fearing that something was coming for you, whether it was alive or dead. Through whispers on the road, you heard of the Boston QZ, one of the remaining zones that retained enough stability. You didn't believe it, deeming it as something that was too good to be true after the world had been so cruel to you, but what else did you have to lose?

You still carried on your work the same, but it was clear that your relationship had shifted once again, this time more personally. He looked at you differently, like he was truly seeing you in a way no one else ever had. It showed in the way his voice was softer when he spoke to you and became overall more attentive towards you. He'd stop by your place more often, either sticking around for a few minutes or several hours. But it was in moments of vulnerability that spoke to the depth of your relationship. When you suffered serious injuries that left you barely conscious, he was there without hesitation. With gentle hands and meticulous care, he'd clean and patch you up, letting you rest your weary body against his for however long you needed.

You couldn't deny the growing affection in your heart for him by the frequent moments in which you felt a closeness that went beyond friendship. There was an unspoken intimacy, a silent understanding of the uncharted territory your hearts were treading, saying stay with me, and, why wouldn't i?

Insert Ellie into your lives. A young, electrifying girl from the Fireflies, a group you'd come to loathe.

You three had been on your way to find Robert, the dickbag that sold your guns, when you got caught in a scuffle between FEDRA and the Fireflies, being forced to flee and take an alternate route, leading you right to Marlene, Queen Firefly, as you liked to call her. Upon discovering she had your guns, she proposed an exchange: Smuggle a girl out of the QZ for the guns. You and Joel scoffed at the idea, immediately wanting to call it off, but somehow, someway, Tess convinced you both to go forward with it.

She was everything you expected her to be at first; unaware and a liability. She eyed you three cautiously, not really okay with the idea of leaving Marlene, but not having another option to go with either. In pushing towards the capitol, you reminded her of what felt like every five minutes to stay down, stay quiet, and do exactly as told as Tess led and Joel trailed behind.

After several attacks and encounters with infected, the true reason was revealed as to why Marlene needed the fourteen-year-old smuggled out: She was immune to infection. Even after the girl's explanations of finding a cure in a lab out west, you shook with laughter in disbelief. How many times had you heard this shit before? Tess, seemingly the only one to believe her, executively decided to push forward, earning disconcerted looks from you and Joel.

You couldn't have said you were surprised when you turned up to the empty capitol, the Fireflies once again proving how they were fucking unreliable as always. Your smugness quickly turned to mild panic as Tess began to have a meltdown, ultimately confessing her bite that made time stop ticking for you. Fuck.

It had been sixteen years since you last lost someone you cared about in the same way, your ability to react and process was nonexistent, so you just stood and stared as if it would disappear. With FEDRA looming beyond the doors, Tess had urged you both to take Ellie and find Tommy, find a way to get her to that damned lab.

So that's what you did.

The first few months were rough on all three of you. You faced infected, as expected, but it was harder to deal with each other more than anything. Ellie tried to find where she stood with you and Joel, wanting to help at every turn but keeping her head down to stay out of the way. You respected how she held her own and didn't take shit from Bill when stopping through his town, and how she handled losing people as quickly as she met them, like Sam and Henry. Despite her efforts, you often found Joel not letting up, only praising her once in a blue moon.

You realized it wasn't so bad after all, being with Ellie. She had spirit and faith, traits you hadn't seen someone possess in quite some time. In her presence, you found yourself rediscovering the capacity for joy and laughter, something that had felt distant and unattainable for far too long. You watched as she got to see and experience things in her life for the first time, like walking through forests; things that you had taken for granted. Her needs, before a burden, had now become a responsibility you willingly tended to, making sure she was the first to eat, drink, and sleep at all times. Each night, you watched her drift off, knowing she was protected by you and Joel and catching a feeling of a profound sense of purpose.

Stumbling into Tommy and his crew wasn't the reunion that you hoped for when fall rolled around. Ellie and Joel's relationship had taken a turn when she caught wind of him wanting to leave her with Tommy, figuring that he could do a better job, though you disagreed. Consequently, it led to her and Joel getting into an argument while you and Tommy awkwardly lingered outside of an abandoned ranch house. And though you were outside, you could still hear bits and pieces, finally hearing the name of Joel's daughter and understanding the pain that shaped his actions towards Ellie.

Upon coming to Eastern Colorado University weeks later, the Fireflies once again proved to be unreliable in staying in a fucking singular location. While you found scattered recordings that indicated them to be in Utah, you also found yourselves caught between hunters and infected, leading to yet another one of the traumatizing moments in your life: Joel falling off a second story and being impaled in the abdomen by a jagged piece of rebar. You and Ellie had managed to defend yourselves while also protecting Joel, talking to him through gritted teeth and coaxing him to move, repeating the words like a mantra.

The winter had been particularly cruel that year, leaving you short on food. You and Ellie had eventually found shelter in an abandoned lake house, securing Joel and carefully tending to him for the following weeks. Deep down, you knew Joel's body couldn’t continue fighting sepsis without proper medicine, and the thought of him dying brought you to near tears. While out hunting alone, you had run into two men. They’d traded you medicine for the deer, but not without leaving you with the eerie fact that they knew you, and knew you killed their men back at the university. You had fled back to Joel and Ellie as quickly as possible, sticking the syringe in him with shaky hands as you urgently warned her to be ready to face danger once again.

Your gut instinct had been right as the next morning you had heard the sound of people nearby, scrambling to tell Ellie to stay with Joel while you led them away and strictly emphasizing that she was not to leave. As you lured off and killed a few hunters, they unfortunately bested you, knocking you out cold and dragging you back to their settlement. You had woken up in a makeshift cage, with your weapons gone and zipties bounding your hands and feet together, as David watched you from afar, speaking to you in a tone that drastically contrasted the words he spoke. You fought through the grogginess, your mind was only set on one thing: Finding Ellie and Joel, alive. Discreetly, you had broken out of the restrictions and kicked out the gate, grabbing the broken chain and slinging it at him as you escaped.

You hid in abandoned storefronts and evaded your enemies, silently taking down the ones that drew too close with makeshift weapons and leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. The harsh snowfall made it all the more challenging, obscuring your vision and forcing you to rely on your sense of sound. When you went to strike at another body, you were caught off-guard as strong hands seized your wrists and pinned you against the wall. At the realization that it was Joel pressed against you, tears brimmed in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, thanking whatever higher power there was for bringing him back to you.

Together, you had found Ellie in a burning restaurant, rushing in to see her hacking away at David. Joel ripped her away from him, her cries and pleads tearing you apart. You fell to your knees as she wept out, taking her into your arms as Joel held the both of you, smoothing her hair and whispering soothing reassurances. It was in that moment that you realized that you and Joel had become more than just a guardian for this young girl. There was an understanding that you both would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

A feeling of disappointment had set in when Ellie declined Joel's offer to go back to Jackson after arriving in Salt Lake City. After what she had gone through, you saw that she felt an obligation to finish what brought you all together in the first place. While navigating through flooded streets, you were faced with rescuing and resuscitating both Joel and Ellie as they became trapped underwater and falling unconscious, the moments blurring together all too fast before you'd been knocked out by two Fireflies from behind.

You had woken up to Joel in a hospital bed next to you, along with Marlene. The Fireflies had set up base at the St. Mary's Hospital, not too far from where you were clocked. Through Marlene you learned that Ellie had been okay, but was immediately taken in for surgery. When you had asked how the procedure would play out, Marlene hesitantly explained that Ellie's brain was at the center of it all, and you had put the pieces together that it all pointed towards death. Both you and Joel grew angry and had protested that another way had to be possible, but of course, Marlene disregarded and ordered for your leave.

What followed in that hospital became yet another turning point in your relationship, not only with Joel, but Ellie too. You were both aware that once you killed the first person in your way, that there was no going back.

And nothing made more sense.

Not a living soul made it out of that hospital except for you, Joel, and Ellie. The chance couldn't be taken that you'd be tracked or followed. So, you returned to Jackson in one piece, and held a secret that only strengthened your bond to each other.

You had moved into the last house on Rancher Street, a decent sized home with a separate garage and fenced in yard. Joel took up the bigger bedroom upon your insistence, and the garage converted to a space designed just for Ellie. You found work in patrol, with Joel and Tommy, and administration by Maria’s side.

It undoubtedly marked a new chapter; no more traveling, no more searching, no more sleeping with one eye open. You had food, clothes, and a roof over your head, in a thriving community, moreover.

Everything had fallen into place, just like it was supposed to.

And you, Joel, and Ellie were finally safe.

Right?

if you read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart! i hope you'll continue to stick around for their story. feedback is appreciated <3 y'all have a lovely day!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #annasmasterlist #annawrites

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signedkoko · 6 months

Note

How do you usually decide matchups? I'm just really curious about your metrics /gen 💛

-🐻

I was considering adding this to my future FAQ, so consider this the post I will link!

When doing matchups, I take a paper and make notes on key details about a person. This can include:

Personality test results

Main hobbies (ex: if someone says they like shows, tv, and movies, I usually just write media)

Outlooks on life (pessimistic, realist, etc...)

Traits I recon they need in a partner (love language needs, someone who isnt cruel, etc...)

Traits a partner would like in them (individual is a good listener, maybe they are a baker, etc...)

'Stereotypes' I gather form the user (gothic, one of those energy drink people, depressed artist, etc...)

One that's done, I pull up a list of major characters in hazbin/helluva (specifivally this one) and write down any names I think match some traits, though sometimes I have a character or two that come straight to mind without the list.

Then I basically colour code each character and add a dot next to each trait I think caters to them. For each dot, I tally it up to see how many points a character got.

The highest wins, or if theres a tie I will go back to the matchup and decide how the smaller traits influence me.

Here is an example from my recent matchup with @november-solarstorms (thank you for letting me use yours):

It makes it easier for me to break down the often large amounts of information I get, and give a more accurate matchup!

I hope that clears things up, and thank you for asking! I always adore talking about my process.

#koko infoz

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boxofthings · 1 year

Text

Finally finished a prompt and wrote some GhostRoach (kinda) matching gear fluff :)

I might also go back and do some of the other ideas anon listed

This turned out much longer than expected lmao and isn't as well fleshed out and polished like my two other fics so if there are typos I'm sorry lol (also might be a lil ooc since this was just mindless brainrot writing)

Read on AO3

---

A haphazard smack against his helmet briefly knocks him out of his crouched stance. He grunts softly as he repositions himself near the bushes. Ghost isn't surprised that a task force member got bored and decided to bother him. He's even less surprised when he turns around and comes face to face with Roach, eyes crinkled in a relaxed grin.

"What," he says, unimpressed. They're supposed to be on recon duty, but it's lasted far longer than he thinks is needed, and with the information they've gathered being as dry as it was, Ghost had figured the squad would've started loosening up by now.

He should've figured Roach would be the first one to get antsy.

"Wanted to check up on you," Roach signs. He lowers himself so that he's at Ghost's level and slings his firearm over his shoulder. "Also, I'm bored."

Ghost rolls his eyes. "So I see you've made the smart decision and sought me out to help cure your boredom?" He makes a show of raising his brow even though it won't be seen through the mask.

Roach nods, completely unbothered by his lieutenant's snark.

"Of all people..." Ghost mumbles under his breath, but his limbs feel just a little less heavy than they were a minute ago.

He doesn't follow Roach's example and keeps his gun at the ready, barrel pointed straight in front of him. At the same time, the sergeant starts getting himself comfortable (or as comfortable as one can be in a humidly damp forest) with his journal already out and pencil in hand.

Ghost doesn't bother reprimanding him. It'd felt so long ago that he'd nitpick at every minuscule shortcoming displayed by his subordinates. It'd only feel strange if he went back to that now, especially with Roach, who had definitely played a role in the aversion of that overtly rigid demeanour.

And besides, he knows Roach to be startlingly swift when facing a sudden oncoming threat, and with the added security of Ghost still on alert, their chances of ambush were low.

When had he gotten so soft?

He turns to the sergeant–the culprit responsible for that development. A rush of fond exasperation churns in his gut, but he doesn't speak, only watches, as he often does with Roach.

He looks down at the open journal page, a current sketch of the foliage around them, some jotted-down thoughts and a drawing of Ghost from earlier in the day.

It doesn't bother him, but he's always surprised to see Roach's sketches of him, even if it'd been established long ago that Roach, much like the captain, tends to draw everyone.

It just means something else when it's Ghost.

Ghost clears his throat, suddenly abashed, "You and MacTavish should have drawing competitions. Bet he'd enjoy that."

The sergeant looks up, then glances down at his page again, pointedly looking at the sketch of the lieutenant.

"We already had one," he responds. "He won." Roach dramatically hangs his head and clutches his heart in a mocking "woe is me" display. Ghost feels the corners of his lips lift.

"Ah," he starts, leaning over to give a quick pat on the shoulder. "Sorry to hear that. S'pose the captain does have a couple of years on ya."

Roach shrugs lightheartedly, "My creations could definitely use some work." He returns to his previous activity while Ghost turns his gaze back to their targeted area.

He's starting to feel antsy himself, and he's long recognized the source of that familiar precipice. "I like 'em, though," he says, much more hesitant and softer than his tone before, probably hoping the latter won't hear.

Roach's eyes shift upwards and he takes a moment to observe Ghost, crinkled eyes boring deep into his skin, and he feels his body flaring warmer.

He leans forward and gives a quick peck to Ghost's covered cheek, patting the area lightheartedly before returning to his previous ministrations, all too quickly for Ghost to properly process and appreciate what had just happened.

Ghost manages a choked "Mhm" before he's back to steadying his gun in his grasp, albeit a little shakier this time.

They don't say anything else after that–Ghost suddenly hyper-focused on the tree to the left of his barrel, and Roach very obviously content with their current established dynamic.

The silence is, as always, comfortable between them, and it passes for another half an hour before Royce comms in that his area is clear and that there's nothing else to look for.

Ghost stands up, gathering the gear he'd set on the ground, and moves over to offer Roach a hand to hoist him up.

The other closes his journal and brushes off his gear. When he looks up at Ghost, he grins.

"What?" Ghost asks, sensing an aura of inscrutability.

Roach continues to smile as he shakes his head, already turning to trek down the path they came from. Ghost wordlessly follows him.

Once they've all settled into their respective rides, Ghost radios in with Soap one last time to confirm extraction before he signals Royce to start driving.

He's just started to relax when he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the side-view mirror.

There's nothing out of the ordinary. Just his masked face as usual, but when he glances slightly upwards to where his helmet sits, that's where he spots it.

A sticker. It's a flower and a soft baby pink, and Ghost stares at it, slightly incredulous as if it appeared out of thin air.

Except–he has a hunch on where it came from, and the earlier smack to his helmet comes back to rattle his brain in a wave of exasperation.

And, of course, Roach chose to ride with Meat in the other car. He'll deal with it later.

Seven hours later and they're finally back on base. Ghost is about ready to pass out in his quarters, but as soon as he steps into the common room, Meat approaches him, no doubt to pester Ghost into joining his evening bender.

Ghost is about to wave him off when Meat pauses and squints at him. "The hell is that?"

For a moment, Ghost doesn't understand what Meat's referring to and, by default, is prepared to say it's his face, but the other's gaze is lifted just a tad higher than where Ghost's ears would be, and he realizes.

"It's just a sticker," he grumbles. He'd almost forgotten about it, "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Meat only looks more confused. "Yeah, but-" his attention is ripped away by Roach, who makes his way over to the two. "Wow."

"What?" Roach asks.

The other makes a heatless scowl, "So you'll let Roachie here decorate your helmet but if we even suggest you add some personality and glamour to your gear, you just get all huffy?"

It's Ghost's turn to scowl. "I do not get huffy." And he immediately chides himself for sounding like a petulant child arguing with their sibling over who started what. Over a sticker.

"And the sergeant did it without my knowledge." He tries to add with more professionalism, but it doesn't help that Roach is standing next to him, grinning like an idiot.

The answer obviously doesn't satisfy Meat at all--only really exasperates him more. He shakes his head and gives a brief, knowing glance towards Roach, that Ghost heavily glares at, before he gives the lieutenant a light pat as he leaves. "Whatever. Looks cute, L.T."

Before he can respond, Roach is already pulling him away towards the direction of the mess hall.

Once they've sat down with a tray of food in front of them, Ghost takes the time to unbuckle his helmet, deliberately making eye contact with Roach.

"Well?" he says, side-eyeing his partner.

Roach glances down at the aforementioned sticker, then looks back up at Ghost and shrugs.

"Why not?" he signs. "You could add a little colour to your..." he gestures towards Ghost's person haphazardly.

Ghost sighs, placing down his helmet to the side and settling into his seat.

"You know you can take it off. It's all in good fun."

Ghost gives one last glance at the little sticker before digging into his food.

He'll keep it on for now, only because he'd rather focus his attention on his meal over something so ridiculous.

The next time they're off on a mission, it's rather quick. A cut-and-dry track and assimilate.

As Soap handles their acquired asset into the carrier, Ghost takes a quick moment to glance at the pop-up shops around them.

They've been deployed to a small village on the east coast of the U.S., where their target had hunkered up in. During their sweep of the area, he'd observed the various shop stands he'd passed by.

Now, as he studies the goods in front of him, his eye catches on a bright sheet in his peripheral.

He buys it without a second thought. Keeping it tucked in his vest's breast pocket when he meets back up with the others.

It's a slow day. He's reading over mission debriefings in his shared office with the captain.

He'd chosen to look over them during afternoon drills when he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

With everyone outside sweating their asses off, he'd be granted a couple hours of free time.

He's fifteen minutes into his file readings when Roach walks straight through the door, shoulders slumped from fatigue and half his gear still strapped to his body.

Ghost immediately sits straighter, forgoing his attention on the papers strewn across his desk and taking in Roach's presence. He's back a day early from his latest deployment. One Ghost, unfortunately, wasn't assigned to join.

"Injuries?"

Roach huffs lightheartedly and shakes his head. "Just a few bruised ribs. All good."

He sits down beside Ghost with a heavy sigh and glances over his papers. "How have you been?"

Ghost relaxes as soon as the other situates the other chair, and his hand involuntarily creeps closer to Roach across the table.

Roach zeroes in on it and grasps it without question.

Ghost swallows. "I've been fine. Slow day. How was the mission?"

The sergeant shrugs. "Nothing special, just a week of mostly sitting around."

Ghost nods, gripping Roach's hand just a little tighter.

Roach removes his helmet and places it on Ghost's desk, leaning closer towards him so their shoulders are touching.

"Mission debriefings?"

"Mm. Just going over a few before I give 'em to MacTavish."

Roach nods, leaning his head against Ghost's shoulder.

Ghost snorts, already knowing where this will go. "If you're tired, you should've headed to the barracks."

Roach makes no show of moving, only whispering a soft "Wanted to see you" that makes Ghost's chest feel funny.

Ghost decides to return to his papers, one hand still intertwined with his partner's, but refusing to let go.

Roach has already begun dozing off when Ghost brings the nearest paper closer to him.

Ghost only manages to get twenty minutes of productive reading in when his mind becomes preoccupied. He's read the same paragraph five times before he throws the paper down and rubs his eyes.

The warm weight on his side hasn't moved an inch, and Ghost feels a faint smile graze his lips when he glances down at Roach, dead to the world, on Ghost's shoulder.

When he turns back to his desk, something catches his eye from his peripheral. It's the small sheet of stickers he'd bought on that mission weeks ago, haphazardly sticking out from between two folders.

He'd forgotten about it, was already apprehensive about using them as soon as he'd arrived back with them in his pocket.

But when he turns to his left, Roach's helmet sits innocently within his reach, and his eyes dart between that and the stickers on his right.

He sighs, feeling a little like a small child scheming to steal an extra snack or two from the pantry.

He reaches forward, mindful of not jostling Roach too much, as he grabs the plastic sheet and slides it out of its clear sleeve.

Ghost gingerly peels a little blue flower off the sheet and delicately places it on the same area where Roach placed his on Ghost's helmet.

After smoothing it out for a few seconds, he debates placing another. Just because. But as he reaches over to grab at the sheet again, he freezes.

The soft breathing from his left had quieted substantially, and he slowly looks down to his shoulder to make eye contact with Roach's amused gaze.

"How long were you awake," he grumbles.

Roach lifts himself, extricating his hand from Ghost's and stretching. "Long enough to watch you lovingly decorate my helmet."

"I wasn't-It was just one."

He doesn't respond, only reaches out to grab his helmet and turns back to Ghost, expression almost triumphant.

Ghost can only look down at Roach's mouth and subconsciously leans closer.

It is then that the captain walks right through the door, papers in hand, approaching his own desk when he catches Ghost and Roach in the act.

The smile that breaks across Mactavish's face is almost comical. Ghost immediately wishes he'd just done this in his own quarters.

"That's real precious, lads," he snorts.

Ghost grimaces, prepared for the onslaught of teasing from his commanding officer.

Soap notices his discomfort and quickly reassures him. "Ah, don't be embarrassed, mate. Roach here used to decorate my helmet when he first joined the squad."

For a moment, Ghost feels an ugly bout of jealousy spark through his gut, which is ridiculous because they're just stickers.

Roach quickly pats Ghost's hand and waves off the captain.

"It was my first mission with him alone, and we got so bored we just did anything to pass the time." As if he sensed Ghost's envy.

"Yeah yeah," MacTavish responds. "No need to feel jealous, Ghost. You're still the special one."

Roach sits back down, turning his body to Ghost while intently making eye contact with Soap. "He also lost the helmet that very same mission."

Soap sneers with zero heat as he walks toward the exit. "Think of it as an unpredicted blessing. Now you can focus all that attention onto Ghost.

The door closes, and Ghost wordlessly turns to Roach.

The other's grin hasn't diminished a bit, and Ghost feels warm under all his layers.

Roach leans forward and encloses Ghost's face between his hands, calloused but gentle, and brings his lips to Ghost's in a tender kiss.

His mask is still on, but Ghost reciprocates regardless and cherishes the moment all the same. He closes his eyes and leans fully into Roach's body heat as the other moves one hand to the back of Ghost's neck to lock them in place.

When they separate, Roach takes a moment to caress Ghost's face before pulling back and standing up.

Ghost already misses the contact.

Roach is about to walk out of the office before he turns back, glancing at the helmet in his hands and giving Ghost one last survey.

"It does look cute, L.T."

Ghost only huffs.

#put this into docs and the word count was 2k I really am the worst ficlet writer #my big fic wip watching me spend my free time writing short ghostroach prompts: >:(#ghostroach #ghost x roach #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #prompt #fic #cod #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 #these two mean everything to me #they deserve more fics #also feel free to send more prompts i need an excuse to not do work #ask #box of words #box of asks #box of posts

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splinteredthoughts · 3 months

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Splinter!

I saw the Bendy oc and wanted to ask if you had any other ocs you would want to share!

and feel free to use this ask to just fully go for it with talking bout them too!

Ooooooo!

Dragon you have no idea how excited I am to answer this!!

I’m gonna focus on a couple of ocs I made in the past year. Otherwise I’d be answering this all day. This is gonna be a loooong one, and I’m going to add on to it later with more ocs, so the rest is under the cut.

This is a bunch of guys I made based on the five senses! I also slotted them into the five-man-band structure because I love that trope SO much (I could make a whole other post talking about that).

On the far left is Hearing or Sound (I haven't come up with names for them, so I just call them based on what sense they are). They're the smart guy of the group. Sound is a wiz with technology and is able to process and catalogue a LOT of information all at once. Their ears kinda reminded me of an alien, so I gave them the ability to float. Sound is kinda cocky, but they are always thinking five steps ahead, so they have some right to be. The darker parts of their body are actually armor/clothes, they also visually differentiate them from the rest of the group.

On the far right is Taste. He is dripping with confidence and charisma, which is fitting since he is the leader. Taste is bold and brash, often crashing into situations and smooth-talking his way out of them. Although his main sense is taste, he rarely sticks out his tongue. This is because his tongue can taste the air like a snake, and the amount of sensory information would overwhelm him, so he focuses more on negotiation since he is the only member of the team who can speak. Taste actually prefers to talk his way out of conflicts, even though he's pretty good in a fight (look at those claws!)

Hiding behind everyone is Sight, the lancer to Taste's leader. While taste is confident, Sight is quite the scaredy-cat, very paranoid and cautious. This is because while she can do the best recon and information gathering, she is very vulnerable to people sneaking up behind her since she has no secondary sense to watch with. Because she is able to see, she is also often the first to notice when something is wrong with one of the other members, and she cares a LOT about them. Sight and Sound make the best pair mission-wise since they can communicate with each other fairly easily and are more patient than a lot of the others.

In the back on the right is Touch. They are the heart of the group. Touch has five fingers instead of the normal three that everyone else has, and the four whiskers or feelers on their face are very sensitive and help them to feel changes on temperature and air current to more accurately guide themselves around. Touch and Sight get along very well. They have a mutual understanding of the other’s vulnerability and can sit together in silence for hours. Touch has a scar that runs down their spine and branches out like the nervous system. They are the most vulnerable of the group and barely ever leave the base, which is just fine with Touch. Everyone in the group comes to them for comfort, and Touch cares for them. They are an extremely gentle person.

Last, but certainly not least, right in front of the group is Smell. He is the big guy of the group, both is size and in physical strength. He lost his arms years ago, which makes him tend to move in a more animalistic way (he is SO fun to draw! My favorite, in fact). Before the group formed, he and Touch lived in the same house. They both rarely went out, since their limited senses made them feel uncomfortable outside of a familiar environment. Smell is very protective of the whole group, but especially of Touch. Physically unable to talk or sign, Smell has a hard time communicating with any of the group, but Touch and Sight can always calm him down if something really gets to him. Smell and Taste clash a lot, since they both crash ahead without thinking and get on each other’s nerves.

Alright! I think that’s everything! I had SO much fun talking about my guys here (this is my second time typing it up cause Tumblr ate my answer before T-T). I’ll definitely be making posts about these and other ocs in the future!

#Thanks for being patient Dragon!#I know it took a while for me to finish this.#But I hope y’all enjoy reading about my guys!#Scribbled Thoughts

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ferrocyan · 9 months

Text

FFXIV Write Day 1 - Envoy

(AU: Canon divergence)

I come as the envoy of the Crystal Exarch, who wishes to exchange in martial knowledge between the Crystarium and Eulmore.

Well, of course saying something like that wouldn't work on Ran'jit. Neither the general nor Vauthry gave much mind to the Exarch's warrior, brushing her off to be assigned with Eulmore's city guards. The Exarch had told her that she should just go along with their bidding--he likely has predicted Eulmore's disinterested response--so she does. Makes a trip down the city's enormous staircase towards the guards' base at the Understory.

Lack of interest is good. Means it'll be that much easier to snoop around and gather information. Shame that she has to waste time keeping up the facade, too, but... nothing to be done for that. Keeping out of the general's eagle eyes is important, after all--

"Aha! So you've arrived, soldier of the Crystarium!" She's only cracked the office door open when the voice calls out. A young miqo'te man sits on the largest desk in the room. He pushes himself off with a huff, looking pleased with himself. "Welcome to the headquarters of the greatest military force in Norvrandt! We're glad to have you here," the man exclaims. He approaches her with a grin, and extends a hand.

She looks around the room. Empty save for the two of them. The young man is of stocky build, but has a boyish cut to his dusty blue hair. He stands about half a head shorter than her. "Is this... the Captain's office?"

"Er, yes? I just told you that." The young man's smile wavers as she sizes him up, then quickly adds, "Oh, no, I'm not the captain of the guards, if you're wondering. That would be my father. But I am his second-in-command, and thus, your partner for the rest of your time here!" He offers another handshake. "I'm the first squad leader, Lue-Reeq."

She takes it. "Ash-Tart," she tells him, because it's the mystel-like name the Exarch told her to use during her time there, "but just Tart is fine."

"Oh? Then you can call me Reeq too!" he says, excited. "Though maybe that wouldn't be necessary since I'm your superior... no, no, we're partners. It's better to be familiar," he muses to himself. Then to her, "Pleased to make your acquiantance, Tart."

She smiles at his exuberance. "Looking forward to working with you. So. What's it you guys... do?"

Reeq grimaces. "Currently? Not... much. Not that that's a bad thing, of course! Ever since Lord Vauthry rose to his rule, the sin eaters around the city has fallen under his absolute control. Eulmore has become the perfect city of peace. It's a great thing, really! His Grace does an amazing job of keeping this city peaceful."

The city of peace. That was what Vauthry said in their meeting, too, she recalls. Despite formerly being Norvrandt's greatest military force, Eulmore is now defined by its peace. Ran'jit, the relic of its martial past, said nothing to contradict his liege either.

That peace is certainly evident. Lue-Reeq explains the duties of the city guards and shows her around to their stations around the Canopy and Gatetown. They clearly don't have much to do. The officers are doing the bare minimum of their job, and most points in Gatetown are unmanned, and the majority of Eulmore's military force seems to have disappeared altogether.

Don't like it, she thinks. It feels wrong. Like when Ishgard play-acted at achieving "peace". As a part of the Vigils, peace just isn't where Tart belongs.

And it seems that the same applies to Reeq. He covers it up with excitement and praise for Vauthry, but his words ring false. He's the only one showing interest at the arrival of the Crystarium's envoy. There must be something more to this man.

Her suspicions are confirmed at the end of the day. When they return to the Understory, Reeq announces that their work is finished.

"Already? It's only one bell past noon." Good thing, though. She can start the recon early. "Then, thanks for your hard work today. See you--"

"Wait, you're really leaving first before your superior? We're not quite done yet, you know!"

Highbloods everywhere are the same, she sighs. "Sorry, Ser. What do you have in mind?"

Reeq motions her to take a seat at the side of the main desk. He goes over to the other side and settles comfortably on the seat next to the Captain's. "So, since I've fulfilled Eulmore's side of the deal for today, isn't it time for the Crystarium to do the same?" He tries to be professional, but a devilish grin can't help but sneak onto his lips. "I hear the Crystarium still does regular sorties to cull sin eaters around Lakeland, is that correct? Can I ask where you were stationed before? Have you killed eaters yourself?"

Tart nods. "Was at Ostall Imperative for a while," it's not a lie, really, "and yes. I have killed a few."

"Oh come on, no need to be modest, I want to hear all the details!" Reeq reaches into a drawer and pulls out a journal. "I have a few questions to ask, if you don't mind. But you must spare no details! This is the point of our arrangement, yes? So please, talk my ears off!"

His excitement is contagious. Tart feels herself smile as she discusses the few clashes with eaters she's had after coming to this world. Then continues with stories of her other exploits, disguised as sin eater hunts. She gets more animated as she goes on, in response to Reeq's rapt investment.

They're the same, she thinks. He doesn't belong in Eulmore's peace either. She didn't know she hungers for his interest, in her, in warfare, in her knowledge of it, until she has it. It doesn't matter if this exchange is a sham to Vauthry and the Exarch. It's real to Reeq, so being here is worth it. This is no longer a waste of time, Tart concludes.

Being the envoy who brings war back into the city of peace may be the best assignment she's had yet.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2023 #wolreeq #lue-reeq #tart the wol #is she the wol here? i actually havent decided www #a/n in replies #hf au #my writing

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selfignitingimagines · 2 years

Text

Derek- Maybe You Should

A/N: I’m finally filling this wonderful request. I figured I’d split it into two parts, so you’ll have to let me know what you guys think.

Request: can you do an imagine where the reader is a well known vocalist in beacon hills and one night the pack goes to an underground party(you know the umm like illegal shows something like that whatever im sorry😂)and they see her again when their like a following a lead and they see her there and she's like getting information(she's a hunter) with like you know slight seduction but nothing excessive but the guy sees the pack and he runs and reader gets really badass like woah and can the pairing be with derek?

The moon was rising in the sky as Stiles’ jeep pulled into the parking garage. His brakes groaned as they came to a halt.

“Scott and Derek are already here,” Lydia told him from the passenger seat. She was glancing down at her phone, reading a text from one of the boys.

“Great. Let’s hope our guy is here too.”

Stiles hopped out of the jeep and walked around to open the door for Lydia, who stepped down and pulled her purse onto her shoulder.

It had been a long time since anything supernatural had threatened Beacon Hills, but Lydia was beginning to find dead bodies again.

Each of the victims had been brutally murdered, and the evidence pointed to a familiar face. At every crime scene, the werewolves had discovered the unmistakable scent of Kate Argent.

It wasn’t surprising, considering Kate’s new supernatural abilities and her insatiable search for power. Scott had always known she would be back at some point. He wasn’t sure why she was in Beacon Hills now, but he knew they had to stop her.

After meeting up with Stiles and Lydia, he and Derek would meet the informant that had Kate’s location. It was an odd place for a meeting, but this venue was small enough that they could corner the man, and large enough that they could remain inconspicuous.

This was why, when he suggested the underground show location, Scott hadn’t said no.

You were there that night as well, doing some recon of your own, though Scott and the others didn’t know it yet. As a prominent vocalist in Beacon Hills, you were a permanent fixture at these sorts of things. They were perfect for gathering information discreetly, and on top of that, they were fun.

You loved to sing. You always had, and it was the perfect cover for your real job. Being a werewolf hunter wasn’t the type of thing you could put on a business card.

If you were being honest, you were more of a mercenary than a hunter. You tried to stick to a tight moral code, one based less on traditional hunting values and more on not being an asshole. That was why you were searching for a connection to Kate tonight.

She might have been the one to kill Gerard, but she was still the reason your whole family was dead. She was motivated by personal gain and vendetta, just like she always had been.

You hated Kate more than you would normally hate a target. They were all scum, but when you looked at her, all you could think about was what she had tried to turn you into.

You thought about that as you sat in the makeshift dressing room, staring at your reflection in the glowing lights that bordered the mirror. Dark lipstick and sharp eyeliner were part of your signature look when you performed, but even with the familiar makeup, you didn’t recognize yourself. You hadn’t in a long time.

As you gazed in the mirror, you noticed the curtain that was covering the door rustling behind you. Your whole body went rigid. Maybe Kate had heard you were looking for her and decided to beat you to the punch.

Your fingers inched toward your right boot, ready to grab the knife hidden inside it.

“Y/n, you’re on in two minutes!”

A stagehand popped through the curtain. The tension in your shoulders eased.

“Thanks,” you said curtly.

She was gone as quickly as she had appeared, her dark ponytail bobbing behind her.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and smoothed down your curls.

Maybe you weren’t sure who you were anymore, but you weren’t concerned about it. As long as you were eventually the woman who killed Kate Argent, nothing else mattered.

------

Stiles and Lydia walked into the warehouse, peering through the crowd. Beacon Hills had made a name for its Underground Show ever since Matt Dahler murdered one of his victims during a performance there. The event had become a sort of morbid cult favorite, drawing in all sorts of performers from across the state.

The warehouse was crowded, and as Stiles and Lydia scanned the crowd for Scott and Derek, they spotted them down by the bar. After what felt like ages, they were able to weave their way through the sea of sweating bodies to get to them.

“So,” Stiles quipped. “What are we drinking?”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Kincaid is up in the sound booth,” Scott explained.

He was leaning against the bar, scanning the swarming crowd.

“Kincaid?” Stiles repeated. “Like Japanese mob-boss, bodyguard Kincaid? The guy who kicked all our asses?”

Scott nodded. “I guess he’s doing anything for money these days.”

The music faded in the background, and people shuffled around the stage. Some headed toward the bar for their next drink as the DJ got up to announce the next act.

“Next up, we’ve got a local artist. Some of you may know her, the Siren of Beacon Hills, Y/n Y/l/n!”

Derek froze, then glanced over his shoulder.

“Wait a second,” Stiles said. “Is that-?”

“It’s her.” Derek sounded tired.

Stiles looked over at Lydia, who was studying Derek intently.

“That’s not good,” Scott said with a frown.

As Lydia liked to say, you and Derek had a history, and a painful one at that. The two of you had been high-school sweethearts before the death of your parents, but the relationship crumbled when you were adopted by the Argents at sixteen.

After being raised with a moderate take on the supernatural, you were suddenly a part of one of the most violent and dogmatic hunting families in the country. Shortly after, Derek’s entire family was burned alive inside their home by Kate Argent, now your adopted older sister.

Needless to say, things were never the same between the two of you. You didn’t speak for almost a decade, and for a while, Derek didn’t think you ever would.

Years later, when Scott brought a new generation of supernatural problems to town, the path of your lives still seemed hopelessly intertwined. You remained neutral at times, helping the pack mostly for Allison’s sake, but that meant rekindling some sort of relationship with Derek.

You would disappear for months at a time, and when you did show up, it was always in the middle of whatever supernatural disaster was blowing through Beacon Hills that month.

Each time you came back, he was reminded of what could have been.

After Allison died, you took a step back, blending into the background once again...until you learned that Kate was still alive.

Scott always believed you meant well, but your recklessness had gotten in the way more than once. At the end of the day, you had your own priorities.

You preferred to think of yourself as dedicated to your mission. So what if you got in the way of every carefully crafted plan the pack made? You had your own way of doing things, and it was faster and more effective.

At this point, you would kill Kate and anyone working for her if you had to. You weren’t going to justify that to Scott or anyone else. You didn’t need to.

Down at the bar, Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Anyone else think it’s weird that she’s here at the exact same time as us?”

Lydia rolled her eyes.

Derek slammed his beer down onto the counter. The Redhead jumped, startled, as he lunged from his seat.

The legs of the stool scraped against the cement floor as he moved, though it was barely audible under the heavy base and your crooning voice.

Before he could shove his way through the crowd, Scott grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “We’re supposed to be laying low.”

“It won’t matter if she gets to Kincaid first! She’ll make a scene in front of everybody. Kate will know we’re onto her and be gone by morning.”

“What are you gonna do, Derek?” Stiles cut in. “Just pull her off stage?”

“I’ll drag her down by her hair if I have to.”

“Someone’s bitter.”

“That’s just going to cause a bigger scene,” Scott protested.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Lydia breathed, throwing up her hands. “All three of you are ridiculous. Why don’t I just go talk to her?”

“Because she’ll sweet talk you into letting her go,” Derek snapped. “I know you have a soft spot for her.”

Stiles looked between the two of them with an uneasy glance. “I’m gonna have to agree with Derek on that one.”

Lydia huffed. “She’s Allison’s godmother.”

“Was,” Derek corrected. “She’s only looking out for herself now. Once she gets that location, she won’t tell us where it is. She’ll go there alone and get herself killed, then Kate will be in the wind again..and where does that leave us?”

Lydia glared at him with sharp green eyes, but she couldn’t find it in herself to bite back a reply. As much as she wanted to believe you would help, she knew Derek was right.

“If we keep fighting we’ll never find Kate,” Scott pointed out.

“You got a better idea?” Derek asked him.

“Yeah, actually, I do.”

----

“Great set, Y/n!”

“You too!”

You thanked the band and crew as you walked off stage, still feeling that natural high from performing. The cheers of the crowd echoed back into the dressing room, and you allowed yourself a moment of vanity as you enjoyed the sound.

Sweat was pooling at the back of your neck. You pulled a scrunchie from your bag and tied your hair into a bun, tucking it back in preparation for what was coming.

You reached into your boot, feeling for your knife just to make sure it was still there. You were just about to slip out of the dressing room when you heard an unfamiliar male voice calling your name. The person sounded like they had a thick, exaggerated southern accent.

“Y/n? Hey, uh, are you in there?”

You walked forward, but paused outside the curtain.

“Who is it?”

“Oh, uh, you don’t know me. I just thought your set was awesome, and uh, I just really wanted to see if I could get your autograph. I came all the way from the great state of Texas-”

Suspicious, you yanked back the curtain. When you saw the figure standing outside the dressing room, you scoffed.

“Stiles, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, hey!” he cried. “Heh, sorry I thought that you would think that was funny. It was just a little prank, you know? Uh...I just wanted to come say hey. We haven’t seen each other in forever and I saw you on stage…”

“Stiles, you don’t like me,” you reminded him, crossing your arms over your chest.

He feigned surprise. “Wh-what?! Me? Come on, I mean, I admire your unorthodox methods, actually-”

Before he could speak another word, you had pulled the knife from your boot and shoved him up against the nearest wall. He gulped as you placed the blade at his throat.

“I know you’re trying to stop me.”

“Hey, hey, hey! I-I’m just trying to help. I swear!”

“You can tell Scott I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Y-yeah. I can...I can, uh, pass that on.”

You glared at him, but pulled the knife away from his throat nonetheless. You stormed off, leaving him still plastered against the wall, too scared to move.

You headed for the sound booth where your informant was working tonight, shaking your head in disbelief.

You couldn’t believe that Scott and the others had the nerve to get in your way. You knew they were trying to stop you from killing Kate. Scott didn’t believe in killing anyone, no matter what they had done. If he had it his way, Kate would never get what she deserved.

You crept down through the building, headed toward the sound booth. You passed a few people on your way, but they were all working backstage and seemed to be too busy with their own jobs to give you much thought. A few recognized you and gave a quick wave, but that was about it.

When you made it to the room the sound booth was in, you peered through the heavy metal door, which was cracked and propped open with a brick. You could see your informant sitting in a folding chair in front of the sound equipment.

He was wearing a dark, baggy hoodie with the hood pulled up. He seemed smaller than you anticipated, though it was hard to see in the dim room. The only light came from the glow of the soundboard and speakers.

Your fingers tightened around the knife, ready to put it against the man’s throat. It would be easy enough to get Kate’s location. Most people were willing to talk with a blade pressed to their jugular vein.

You reached forward and yanked down the hood, intending to press the blade down. When you did, you saw a long shock of familiar, strawberry blonde hair spill down from the hood.

“Lydia?!”

You stumbled back in shock. She rose from the chair and turned to face you, looking guilty the whole time. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Trying to stop you from doing something stupid!”

“You have no idea what I’m doing!”

You turned, intending to run out the door in search of the informant, but she reached out to grasp your arm. “Y/n, wait!”

You reluctantly turned back to face her. “What?”

“Allison wouldn’t want you to do this.”

You felt a pang in your chest. Lydia was telling the truth. Allison would want you to be a team player, to ask for help, but you could never bring yourself to do that.

In the end, it didn’t matter. She was dead anyway.

“You don’t understand. I have to do this. I have to find Kate.”

Lydia frowned. The look in your eyes was desperate, almost crazed. You really did believe what you were saying.

“Y/n, we’re working on it.”

You huffed. “Not quick enough!”

“Why can’t you just let us help?” she cried. “You can trust us.”

“Scott will never let me kill her, Lydia. Don’t you understand? As long as she’s alive, she’ll never stop.”

“Scott’s not the only one who wants to help.”

“Derek would never go against Scott. He comes first.”

“Are you sure about that?”

You paused. “Yes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You hesitated.”

“Let go of me, Lydia. You can’t stop me.”

She stared at you for a moment, her green eyes dark and troubled. “I know.”

She released your wrist, and you stalked out of the room and down the hall. You rubbed at the marks her pink-painted nails had left in your skin.

You didn’t have time to analyze what she said, but a part of you had latched onto her words as you raced down the hall. Maybe at one point, Derek would have put you before anyone, but that was a long time ago. You weren’t sure why she would think that now.

You shook away those thoughts, trying to focus on where the informant could have gone. If the whole pack was here, that meant they had their own plan.

You had known Scott for a long time, and Derek even longer. If they wanted to meet with someone, they’d want to do it somewhere private and away from the crowds.

After exploring the warehouse for a few minutes, you noticed a rusty metal door on your right. The faded red paint on it told you that it led to a fire escape. You opened it and slipped outside, stepping onto a rickety metal platform.

You had a good vantage point from the second floor, and you could see that you were standing at the back of the building. A few cars and vans were parked below you, no doubt from people working the event or transporting equipment.

There were some flood lights attached to the building that cast a dim glow and illuminated the pavement lot below. Even with the light, you didn’t see anything worth noting.

A breeze blew past you as you leaned over the fire escape. You welcomed the sensation of the cool air on the back of your neck, but you still had work to do. You were just about to turn to go back inside when you heard the creaking of a metal door opening below.

You pressed yourself back against the fire escape, keeping to the shadows as voices began to drift up from below. You didn’t recognize the second voice, but you could tell the first one was Scott’s.

“I appreciate you meeting me here.”

“I’d appreciate my wire transfer.”

You peered down through the holes in the metal platform. Scott and another man were standing next to the warehouse door, carefully keeping out of the light. Someone else was standing next to Scott, but you couldn’t see who it was from that angle.

You could see that the informant was huge, definitely bigger than Scott. His hair seemed to be completely gone or buzzed very close to his head.

“Woah, woah, hold on. We already sent you the money, Kincaid”

That was Stiles, but where was Derek?

“That was the fee for a meeting. If you want information, it’ll cost you more.”

You rolled your eyes. Kincaid was right under the fire escape. If you jumped over the ledge and took him down, you would catch him off guard. With a little force, you were sure he would give up Kate’s location.

You stood up, ready to leap over the edge of the fire escape. Before you could make another move, the door behind you flew open.

A hand clamped down over your mouth and an arm snaked around your waist. Before you had time to react, you were being yanked back through the door and into the warehouse. The door slammed shut in front of you.

You bit down on the fingers covering your lips.

“Ow! What the fuck?!”

The hands dropped you, and you stumbled forward, trying to balance yourself. Derek was standing there, a sullen look on his face as he shook out his hand. You could see a tiny trickle of blood dripping from his fingers.

You shoved past him and ran toward the fire escape door, but when you reached out, the handle was gone. In its place was a broken metal stub.

When you glanced back at Derek, he smirked and pulled the crumpled metal handle from behind his back. He had pulled the door handle right off.

“Looking for something?”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” you demanded.

“What’s the matter with you? Are you trying to get arrested?”

“The Sheriff wouldn’t arrest me.”

“You’re drawing too much attention,” he insisted. “What was your plan, huh? Just tackle Kincaid?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Maybe.”

“Why do you always have to do things the hard way?”

“Because my way is faster…and, no offense, but it doesn’t look like you and your little band of heroes got any information either.”

Derek was fuming. His green eyes were cloudy and dark. He was clenching his jaw and his hands were curled into fists. It would have been hot if it weren’t so annoying.

You started to turn away, but Derek grabbed your wrist. You gritted your teeth.

“Get the fuck off me.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I don’t care.”

You tried to pull your wrist from his grip, but you couldn’t compete with his strength. He stepped forward, caging you in against the wall.

The cement was cold against your back as he pinned your wrists above your head. He stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“That’s your fucking problem. You don’t care, but they do. Do you have any idea how upset they would be if something happened to you?”

He nodded at the wall behind him. Scott and the rest of his pack were on the other side of it with Kincaid, stealing the information you had fought so hard to get.

“Just them?” you asked. “Or you too?”

There was a cool glint in his eyes, and you could only imagine the memories that were flitting around in his head. It was no use though. You were trying to hit a nerve that had lost feeling a long time ago.

When he didn’t answer, you flashed him a bitter smile. “Don’t worry, Derek. I know you still hate me.”

His eyes held yours for a moment. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, his phone rang.

With one hand, he reached down and pulled it from his jeans. “Yeah?”

You could hear Scott’s muted voice on the other end of the phone. “Kincaid ran.”

Derek’s mouth formed a grim line. “What?”

“He got spooked when you pulled Y/n back inside. I think he thought she was one of Monroe’s hunters.”

Derek closed his eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. “Alright. Thanks.”

Without another word, he dropped your wrists and stepped back. You kept your eyes trained on the cement floor, avoiding Derek’s at all costs. You couldn’t stand to see his sullen, puppy-dog eyes and the disappointment they held.

You turned away from him and headed back toward the dressing room, but before you could get far, he called out to you.

“I don’t.”

You paused, glancing back over your shoulder. “What?”

“I don’t hate you.”

You swallowed. “Well, maybe you should.”

Derek frowned as you turned away. Every cell in his body was aching for him to follow you down the shadowy hallway. There was so much he wanted you to know, but it had been so long since you had let him close.

Maybe that was his fault for pushing you away so carelessly. It had been years since then, but he had accused you of helping Kate start the fire that killed his family.

He knew you were forced into training as a young hunter. He knew she had used you just as much as she had used him. At the time, he didn’t care. He was so angry, and even though you had loved him, Kate planted the seeds of doubt in his mind long before the fire.

Derek let himself be manipulated by her, and, even a decade later, he had never managed to heal your relationship. He wasn’t sure if he ever would.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #selfignitingimagines #derek hale #derek hale imagines

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