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foxxydevil · 2 years

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Ch 2 - Safehouse

Chapter 1 - Master List

A mw2 self insert fanfic. Ghostxreader

AFAB no gendered pronouns used self insert

I need to come with a title for this little series since they weren't alone this time. It's a little shorter and pretty rough on grammar.

Yay, you survived! Hope you guys don’t mind the shorter post.

Word count: 4556

⚠ Warning: Knives, guns, medical, blood, smut, sauce, angst, choking, masturbation, basically a ton of cool stuff

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You woke up without much ceremony as you felt your body getting dragged out from the backseat of the truck. It took far too long to even register that you were in the truck and everything seemed jumbled together, Las Almas, the church, Ghost.

That's when it finally dawned on you who was throwing you over their shoulder like a hefty bag of potatoes, no princess carry for you, he wouldn’t be able to hold a pair of throwing knives if he hadn’t slung you over his shoulder. The sharp buckles of his vest dug into your side right where you had been shot.

“Where are we?” -Soap, so all three of you made it out alive then.

“Alejandro’s safehouse.” Ghost answered, his voice low and somewhat labored due to dragging you around. “Gave me the location just in case.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“It was need to know.”

“What if I needed to know?” Soap huffed, they were at it again.

You groaned, gripping the back of Ghost’s vest and trying to prop yourself up to see around. It looked like you three had made it out into the country. There was a cool light, the kind that told you dawn was only another thirty minutes out.

“-Shh” Ghost warned both of you.

The world spun as Ghost went down on one knee to inspect the ground.

“Pressure plate” Soap observed, always the world narrator.

“Alejandro rigged it.”

“Smart bastard.”

“Ghost” you groaned between clenched teeth. Your fight to stay awake was renewed but you could still feel your hot blood between your fingers, soaking through Ghost’s gear now.

“There” he said, ignoring you as he pointed out an unfinished window that was not rigged with a nasty surprise for you.

Your vision went blurry again as the boys got a move on, Soap leading the way and leaping through the window with a practiced grace. Ghost followed behind quite a bit less elegantly as he had to maneuver you through the window with him and drop to the ground.

Another sharp pain.

“Don’t move” Ghost barked and the sharp whistle of a blade leaving his hand rang through the building before landing with a thumb in a wood beam.

In response you got spanish.

“Quien esta ahi?”

It took you a second but Soap beat you to the punch.

“Rudolfo!”

“Soap!” you were relieved to hear it was Alejandro’s right hand man. “Ghost! You’re alive!”

“Affirmative, and one more” Ghost grunted as he put you down, propped up against a straw bail so you could sit up.

“Fuck you too” you grumbled in response to his non verbal complaint as you clench your side to staunch the bleeding.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rudolfo said, pulling Ghosts' knife so he could hand it back to him.

“Igual, amigo” Soap returned and you had to chuckle under your breath at his awkward spanish, he had really taken to it.

“Nice throw” Rudolfo said as he handed off the black steel hilt first. “Where were you guys?”

“On the run,” Ghost answered vaguely.

“I was on the run, they waited for me,” Soap jumped in.

“Of course, no?” Rodolfo said with a shrug, loyalty and camaraderie was expected under Alejandro, he inspired it.

“No” Soap said.

“Yes,” Ghost corrected, looking over to his brother in arms, “We’re a team, all of us. This happened on my watch and I’ll need help to fix it, no one fights alone” then his skull mask turned down to you.

“Why did Graves turn?” Rudolfo asked, bringing the Lieutenants' attention back up to him.

“We don’t know,” Ghost answered, his voice turning dark at the man's name.

“Las Almas can corrupt anyone” the latino suggested as an excuse for the commander.

“Not us” Soap argued, still idyllic.

“For now, General Shepherd, Laswell and anyone else outside of this room is considered hostile,” Ghost decided, his voice turning commanding, it seemed he took well to leadership “With one exception.”

“Alejandro?” you asked from the floor. Not being a core member of the 141 but part of an ever replaceable rotating cast of soldiers it wasn’t uncommon for you to fall in the background to just wait for orders.

All you got in response was a quick nod from Soap.

“We need him back,” Ghost said.

“Venir” Rodolfo said headed to the back of the old barn, you barely had a chance to look around the place now that your head wasn’t threatening to spin off.

As Ghost turned to you to scoop an arm behind you and pull you up on your feet you looked around. It was old, musty, but gloriously warm and felt safe. This building had been used for a couple of decades without being torn down by corruption.

You winced as you straightened up and Ghost started following after Rudolfo and Soap.

“Still leaking on us?” Ghost asked, almost sounding annoyed that you hadn’t magically healed by now.

“Did I miss the part where you bothered to patch me up?” you hissed sarcastically between your teeth.

Rudolfo flipped on a light at a small desk that had a map and a couple of photos spread haphazardly around it.

“Graves is holding him here.” The man said pointing to the map, it was covered in labels and as you deciphered the mix of English and Spanish you realized it was Alejandro's old base of operation, now taken over by Graves.

“His own personal black site prison.” Soap observed.

Ghost had come to a stop at the edge of the table with you still holding up most of your weight while keeping you on your feet.

“My team is locked in there too.” Rudolfo agreed.

“How do we get them back?”

“By breaking in,” Ghost said as if his usual methods were obvious.

“And that's why I love the Ghost” Soap said with his usual cheeky grin.

“It's gonna take more than this” you pointed out nodding to the single handgun and odd rounds of ammunition scattered on the table.

Rudolfo turned to a large door sliding it open to reveal a low lit caged armory.

“It's well stocked, we even have a med kit.” Rudolfo said, making the understatement of the century.

You’d seen whole military bases with less heat in store.

“Alright” Ghost said with a nod, you could see a plan starting to form in his mind.

“My man,” Soap said, impressed. “We’re gonna need new wheels, preferably up-armored”

Rudolfo tossed Ghost a ring of keys that you ended up catching before he could. Soap and Ghost exchanged a look over your head while the third man flipped a giant switch that had a row of lights flashing on, one after the other, to reveal a military issue humvee at the end of the barn.

“Alejandro thought of everything” Ghost said, clearly taking a shine to the man.

“Yeah he did” You agreed as all four of you walked towards the armored vehicle.

“Lets go get him” Soap said, itching to get started as you gathered back around the table.

Soap pulled out a chair for you and Ghost settled you down into it, surprisingly gentle for a man who seemed like he was hard as nails.

A large white plastic case thumped on the table as Rudolfo brought out the kit for you.

“Finally” you ground, the closest you’d come to a thank you while half out of it. “Please tell me you have the good stuff in there.”

“Only the best” Rudolfo said as he unlatched the case, tossing you a paper square of individually paged pain meds. You were distracted grabbing for it that you didn’t quite notice Ghost grabbing your blood soaked vest to unbuckle it for you.

There was more pain as it seemed the fitted armor was actually doing some work supporting your side to hide the pain.

“Lay off” Ghost dismissed your paint lifting your black shirt a few inches to expose the wound. The context was far different but it was hard to forget that wasn’t the first time that night he went looking under your shirt.

It’s just this time you had an audience.

You kept your face straight with the standard issue military professionalism and Rudolfo tossed out a few more bags from where they were neatly organized in the med kit. Soap slid them over to Ghost more focused on the map than the amateur med bay that was being set up. Gunshot wounds weren’t exactly rare in this company.

“It went all the way through” you said to Ghost though you doubted that he missed the two new holes in you. It was a blessing since he wouldn’t have to dig around in the wound with some forceps to look for metal. He ripped open a plastic envelope and the sharp eye watering smell of medical alcohol met you, your least favorite part.

Aside from getting shot.

And bullet digging.

And stitches.

You know what? Scratch that, the whole experience was your least favorite part.

“The old prison is in a remote area outside Las Almas,” Rudolfo got started on planning as Ghost patched you up, running the cleansing whip over the bullet wound and having to go through several wads of gauze to clean up the blood enough so he could see what was going on.

“It was maximum security until the narcos took over, and it was permanently closed.” Rudolfo gave the load down. “There is no airstrip but expect helios for security and resupplies.”

“We’ll drive to an offset and ruck up to our infil- here” Ghost said pointing to an area with his elbow as he opened another steril bag, this one with a needle already threaded.

“If security towers are manned we’ll need to take them out first and rope the wall for entry” You added in, if he could multitask so could you. Besides, it was a welcome distraction as Ghost knelt in front of you and prepared for the unpleasant task of sewing you back up.

“What about cameras?” Soap asked across the table.

“There’s CCTV’s in the security room,” Rudolfo answered.

“We’ll use them to locate Alejandro and the rest of your men” Ghost said, taking the negative and turning it into an advantage.

You hissed a breath through your teeth as Ghost made his first tie off in your skin. He had clearly done this a few times.

“Let’s divide and conquer,” Soap suggested, clearly feeling more confident after his little solo stunt. “While Rudy finds Al, I’ll use the cams to help Ghost plant charges in key areas.” Sounded like Soap was on a roll with new nicknames.

“Diversions and sabotage,” You gather from Soap's idea of doing your best to not make a face at the continual stabbing.

“Nice, Johnny” Ghost agreed to the plan before putting his hand at the small of your back with a little pressure to move you forward so he could get to the exit wound. “Glass here stays with me.”

You glanced back, a little surprised at the new nickname Ghost had come up for you. He didn’t seem to find it noteworthy as he focused on the sutures.

“I learned from the best, Lt” Soap said, not reacting at all to the nickname either.

Glass, huh, you wondered what exactly inspired that.

“Once we pinpoint Alejandro and Los Vaqueros, we regroup and pry ‘em loose”

“We’ll carry extra guns in to arm my men and fight our way out the way we came in,” Rudolfo added.

“Any questions?” Ghost asked as he reached out for another few alcohol wipes to clean up his work.

“What are we waiting for?” Soap asked with a grin.

“Nightfall ” Ghost answered, dawn was not the time to attack.

Rudolfo and Soap nodded their agreement.

“We’ll rest up and back up for now.” Ghost added and grabbed a large cotton pad and some medical tape to cover up your wound.

“I’ll be up and running by them” you agree, somewhat to yourself. Even running at 100% Ghost wasn’t easy to keep up with so you had to hope you’ll be up and at ‘em by then.

As Ghost finished up he pulled your shirt back down. There was a touch again. Another brush of his calloused fingertips at the edge of your waistband this time at your back. The Lt was really stealing your moves.

You looked up at him and at least had the decency to contain a blush, he did get a smile, and a genuine one at that.

“Thanks Lt” you said, keeping to his rank now that it wasn’t your goal to rile him up.

He had gotten back on his feet to pile up the used bags and gauze that you had bleed through.

“Don’t mention it” he said curtly, and you had a feeling he really did not want any of the fanfare that came with appreciation, typical. His stoic dismissal made it all too tempting to bother him.

“I’ll grab some cots out of the armory, it's no 5 star hotel but it's something” Rudolfo said leaving the three of you to it as he went in the small room.

“Beats straw” Soap agreed plopping down in a second wood chair, though unlike yours it creaked in protest.

“Roll around in the hay a lot?” you asked him with a grin to match his own, Soap was easy to banter with. It was obvious why even Ghost enjoyed the younger soldier.

“Sheep fuckers” Ghost agreed with you.

“Aye aye, that's the Welsh. I expected as much from Glass but not from’a Britt” Soap defended himself.

“Isn’t Scotland still part of Britain?” you get back at him, much to your mistake. Both men looked at you with a decent helping of disgust, guess you hit a nerve.

“You owe us a scotch for that,” Soap said with a shake of his head.

“Best we could do around here is Tequila,” Ghost complained.

“That's my que” Rudolfo returned from the overstocked storage closet, a few cots tucked up under his arm and a dusty half drunk bottle of tequila in hand.

Ghost groaned dismissively, not a fan of tequila then.

“I need a night cap” You said all too eager. “Looks like it’s a little too strong for these two.”

Soap made a sound of protest and Rudolfo slid the bottle over the cluttered table in your direction so he could set down the cots. You opened the bottle and without much ceremony took a large gulp ready for the lick of fire that ran down your throat. Tequila smelled like stupid night but man it was a good distraction from getting shot, and the large man beside you.

You set the bottle down in front of Ghost but before he could even refuse Soap had grabbed it, needing to redeem himself in front of Rudolfo. The sentiment was lost then he coughed after a large gulp to rival your own. It made you laugh but you instantly regretted it when your side flared up with pain.

“Are you going to ready?” Ghost asked, seeing your reaction, sudden doubt flowing in his voice in your ability to complete the mission tomorrow.

“I won't slow you down” you answer stubbornly grabbing for the bottle again but Ghost grabbed it first, using the lip of the bottle to hook his mask and drink. It caught Rudolfos attention as he had never seen even part of Ghost's face before and even Soap glanced over, trying to act uninterested. He swallowed without even a wince and handed you back the bottle that you took a short drink from and set it back down. Soap slid it down to Rudolfo and Ghost walked around the table to grab the pile of folded cots. It looked like he wasn’t up for socializing but who could have guessed that.

“I’ll help you out Ghost” Rudolfo said, grabbing two of the cots, clearly wanting to get a closer look at the Lt as we set up.

“Hand me back the bottle then Soap” you said and noticed Ghost look back, his eyes squinted in warning. “Lay off” you grumble.

“Part of the team then Glass?” Soap asked as he handed over the tequila. The nickname all but confirmed it and you shrugged in response.

“Not sure where it came from,” you said honestly.

“You’re scrappy” Soap answered, sometimes it seemed he was the only one who actually understood what was going on in Ghost’ head, though you had gotten a glimpse of it earlier.

“What is “Glass” even about” you wonder out loud but for all Soap’s insights on the Lieutenant he didn’t seem to have any idea about that either. You’d have to ask the man himself later.

“That didn’t take long” Soap said as Rudolfo returned to the table.

“Camps set, Ghost headed outside” the man said as he sat down.

That info had you raising a brow and looking over to Ghost. He also shrugged and so you huffed, standing up. Your nose twitched at the uncomfortable, not quite painful, feeling of the stitches pulling at your skin as you stood up.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get lost” you said to the boys before heading out, choosing to climb through the same window you came in on Ghost’s shoulder to avoid Alejandro's handy work.

In the time you had all been hauled up the barn it had lightened up outside. It was still early, probably somewhere around 6am, and too soon for anyone to be out. Looking around it seemed that wouldn’t be an issue either way. With the exception of the getaway truck and some wood fencing this barn was the only sign of civilization for at least 10 clicks.

It took some time before you found any sign of Ghost. After doing a quick perimeter around the barn with no luck you started towards the grouping of gnarled old trees, it was the only spot he could be hauled up. It wasn’t your intention to sneak up on the spot but it was hard to shake the habit of taking silent steps. Without anything to drown out the sounds you heard Ghost before you saw him.

He was up to something for sure.

You didn’t come right up on his spot. You saw him from the side first. He was facing a tree, leaned up against it with his forehead leaning on his arm to support himself. It was still cool out so his breath billowed through his mouth in short, hot, gasps. His back was curled forward, shoulders rounded, and muscles taught while he pumped his hard cock. He had rolled up his shoulders so you could see his sleeve tattoo and the sinewy muscle that caused it to ripple like a live painting.

It was a delicious sight. What enhanced it more was his low moans, they sounded more desperate than they had with you. Oh this poor beautifully broken bastard.

As much as you wanted to watch him, probably forever, you felt bad peeping on him. Especially when he looked so raw. You intentionally stepped on a stick as you came around the tree to stand where he could see you, not quite intruding on his space.

“No need to announce yourself, darling” he ground out between breaths, turning his head to look over at you. All you could see were his eyes of course but fuck, he looked hungry.

“Putting on a show for me then?” you asked and damn it but you sounded breathless already. The Lt already had an ego, you didn’t have to add to it.

“I didn’t invite” he started but groaned half way through his eyes flickering “your smart mouth.”

“Pitty,” you said with a sly grin, “it's smart and talented.”

His only response was a low groan, his eyes still on you. Suddenly you felt like you were the one with the show to put on. You walked closer to him, still pacing yourself, braced for him to tell you to fuck off. He didn't protest though and he didn’t stop running his rough hand over his wet cock so once you were right next to him you ran the tips over your fingers over his bare forearm, with the lightest touch of your nails.

Even bent over Ghost was massive. Most men that stood that tall were lanky but he had broad shoulders and a wide muscled chest. At your touch he shivered. You had noticed that earlier, the way he reacted when you touched him softly. The way he tried to imitate that same touch for you as if testing new waters.

You wondered if war and knives were the only touch he knew. No, he definitely fucked like someone who had fucked before.

Suddenly he pushed off the tree and grabbed you by the throat, putting you between him and the tree as he pumped his cock faster. His hand was rough on your throat and he squeezed off your air with a bruising touch. You reached up for his arm but didn’t pry him off or struggle. You held yourself steady. Something about his eyes told you he wasn’t trying to kill you.

You could see hate there but it wasn’t hate for you. Tears welled up in your eyes and he loosened his fingers just enough for you to take a gasping breath.

“Lt” you whimpered, the shortest thing you could say before it was cut off.

“No” he ground, his voice sounding like stone on stone, he was close “Say my name” he demanded loosening his grip around your throat again, expecting you to comply.

“Simon” you whimpered with a broken voice. Despite the fact that you were pinned to the tree, hardly able to breath, while this self described reaper used you to jerk one out, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly wound up yourself. It was messy and fucked up and fuck if it wasn’t hot. “Simon please” you whimper again.

His head dropped down as he moaned again.

“Fuck, Glass” he almost roared, the trees dampening everything so it felt as if the two of you were the only people left. You could hear he needed you, needed to own you, to name you. He was broken and sick but it was intoxicating.

“Simon” you beg and he squeezes your throat off again, this time feeling dangerously like he would snap your neck as he pumped his cock until a string of hot cum shot between your legs on the thin damp grass. It took a few more pumps before he finally seemed spent, shaking as he stood in front of you.

You tapped your hand against his arm, unable to make a sound and running out of air. He looked up and waited a second, his eyes locked on yours, before finally relaxing his fingers until his hand just lightly rested on your collar bone.

You were both gasping for air as your eyes stayed locked, both of you on stand still waiting for the other to say the first word.

“Why” you said between breaths “why Glass?”

He looked at you, his eyes flicking between yours, searching. You felt like he was almost disappointed, like he needed you to understand without him having to say a word. It was like the only way he could peel back even the thinnest layer of himself was when he saw that part in you.

“Because I’m fragile?” you ask seeing as he was struggling to find the words. You wanted to help him but the bastard had to open his mouth.

“You’re a soldier” you responded, sounding annoyed with your accusation. He finally tucked his cock back into his BDU’s and pulled the zipper up, his hands lingering on your exposed collar bone.

“Use your words, Ghost” you pushed, sensing that using his name again would be pushing him a little too hard. The poor man needed you to be gentle with him from time to time.

“A mirror” he answered curtly and when your brow rose in confusion he said again “you’re a mirror.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked, genuinely confused.

An elaborate explanation was not in the books today.

“It's a nickname” he bit out “don’t make a deal out of it.”

“Yeah, a nickname. They are supposed to mean something,” you retort, not satisfied with his snippy attitude.

“Fuck then” he said towering over you “you don’t need one”

“I don’t know if Johnny is gonna let it go so fast” you respond, feeling like a brat again.

His hand shot out and he grabbed your jaw, holding it tight so he could keep your face angled up to his.

“The last thing I want is someone else's name on your lips right now, darling,” he ground out in frustration. He was so pissed he didn’t even have room to question why that was.

Your eyes stayed locked on his, waiting for him to continue with his threats and anger.

“Fuck, you piss me off” he growled his eyes narrowed at your silence. His other hand came up and he ran his fingers over the top of your cheek and then over your lips, as if he couldn't help himself. It was confusing. He looked confused too.

“We should head back” you say, mostly for his sake. He needed an out before he completely lost it.

“Yeah” he agrees but his fingers didn’t stop exploring, his eyes following their path.

“Simon” you say, to get through his thick skull. He lets go of your face but doesn’t step back.

You huff looking up at him.

“You’re a mess” you say, exasperated.

“Makes two of us,” he returned.

#mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost smut #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #fanfic #mw2 smut #smut #self insert #hurt/comfort #romance

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shadoedseptmbr · 2 years

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the fun OC Asks, for Aedan: 8, 12, 26, 38, 41, 57, 63, 79, 85, & 92

Thank you for asking about my darling :D!

What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them? She was raised Catholic, and occasionally went to service, especially if there was a soup kitchen attached until she was 11 or so. She doesn't believe, really, in any of it nor that there's any sort of reward or punishment when you die. She'll tell you, if you ask, that she believes in thermodynamics. That nothing is lost. She mostly feels vindicated when she comes back. That said, she's also going to lean into the comfort of telling someone who's grieved or grieving or dying that their loved one is taken care of, is loved and that they'll join them in peace. And she's been known to talk to Ashley, light a candle. Is she scared of it? No, not really. She’s been expecting to die since she was 13, it’s an old friend at this point. She gets tired sometimes.

How old are they? When is their birthday? Officially? 28 at the beginning of ME1. Actually, about 26. She can't recall the date, just that it was after Easter the last time she celebrated and Anderson picks the date of April 11.

Are they aware of their flaws? She knows she can get a little tunnel vision. She knows that she doesn't really trust anyone. She knows that she gets mean when she's unhappy. She knows she lets go far too easily because it's safer than holding on to someone or something not meant for her. She knows she's got gaps in her education that can be detrimental and that she's vain about not letting anyone know she has to read outloud when she's tired to have any chance of comprehension. She's less aware that sometimes she pushes people away because they might get to be important and that it's caused her to miss a few opportunities- but there's always a door opening somewhere. And that she’s a little prejudiced about using tech over superpowers.

What is the easiest way to annoy them? incompetence. any sort of victim mentality Low tolerance for "the odds are against me" talk

What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh? Answered here

How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin? Yes, please and how often? Lol, she's pretty sex positive, high drive, high curiosity about new ideas/partners/species what have you. as long as everyone's having fun and is willing, she's for it. If anyone tries to latch on to her for more than fun, she gets nervous. She lost her virginity around the age of 13.

What is always guaranteed to make them smile? Aedan made it a point, once she settled into the relative ease of life as a recruit to always have an easy smile and enjoy herself. Food, decent bed will actually always put a little pleasant expression on her face. Kaidan making one of his observations. A gorgeous gun. Ocean. Beautiful sightlines. Mark telling her a story.

What is their economic situation? She doesn't worry about it, lives well within her means and has a decent bank account and several stashes in places she might be able to access in an emergency. When she and Kasumi hit Hock, she taps into his and several of his guests' private accounts and starts skimming. By the time she gets back to the Citadel in 3, she's got a pretty hefty series of accounts.

Do they believe in ghosts? No. but she talks to Ashley, sometimes.

Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

#sept memes #aedan shepard #john mulaney

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 month

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Hart and Hunter - Chapter 9 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

A little after three o'clock, I park some ways up the street from Lagrange's shop, giving myself time to think.

Usually, the area would be swarming with tourists but today it's almost deserted.

Most of the businesses are closed for the day out of respect for Lagrange and there are only a few other cars besides my own.

Halloran stands near one of these, leaning against the hood of a small dark sedan with his arms crossed.

He glances up and down the sidewalk and checks his watch, clearly waiting for me.

As I observe him, I ask myself for the hundredth if this is a good idea.

My gut tells me it's not and that my lies of omission have hefty price tags attached but a stubborn and currently dominant... part of my mind doesn't care.

I've been to Faerie... the Fae realm... only once.

From my perspective, mere days had passed and having been unconscious for most of it, I don't remember much.

For Dane, six months went by between the moment I disappeared through the gateway at the standing stones, injured and near death and the moment I reappeared, whole and healed once more.

My absence had scarred him, in a way.

He'd spent half a year not knowing if I was alive or dead or how long he'd have to wait to find out.

He'd been prepared to wait for the rest of his life, sustained by nothing but hope.

In the months after my return, he'd barely let me out of his sight.

Something like this... letting me investigate on my own, especially after what happened with the rune... is a sign of healing and trust.

Trust, I've already betrayed, by failing to tell him everything.

And yet I can't deny how deeply curious I am or how strong my desire is to learn more about my father's people,and by extension, myself, curiosity and desire awakened by this case and by Rian Halloran, who may hold the key to more mysteries than one.

Popping the door of my car, I get out.

It falls shut with a solid thunk and Halloran turns and spots me.

He waves and I find myself staring again.

From his height to his proportions and the fit of his clothes, from his black hair and flashing blue eyes, to his flawless skin and bright smile, his perfection is almost uncanny... like an image so overly idealized it becomes oddly unsettling.

It makes me wonder if that's what people see when they look at me and why Dane and I seemed to see different things when we look at Halloran.

Shaking free of my tangled thoughts, I cross the road and join him in front of Lagrange's shop.

"Julian, you came after all."

"Rian," I reply, as it seems we're on first names now.

"You're alone?" he asks, lifting a perfectly arched brow and I hesitate as the question summons a fresh unease.

He sees it and smiles disarmingly.

"You have questions," he says.

"Ask away, then you can decide if you'd like to proceed or not."

I consider and decide to start with the basics, as Dane would.

"Is Rian Halloran really your name?"

He smiles.

"It is, indeed... as far as this world is concerned."

"Are you really a police officer from Ireland?"

"More or less. My paperwork's in order and I carry out my duties as assigned but I have another set of duties as well. The human authorities are ill-equipped to handle the sort of criminals I pursue, your Wolf and I have that much in common."

"Then why not bring Dane in on this, too?"

He lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug.

"Policy. I've got to keep those who know of me to an absolute minimum. I'm only bringing you in because you saw right through my glamour and there was little point denying it. From what I've heard, you've got a keen sense of second sight, so I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. That's another reason I invited you, you've got exactly the skill I need," he declares and I frown, confused.

"You don't have... 'Fae second-sight' ?"

"No. My skill is in perception and persuasion... the glamour, for example. All our kind are gifted to varying degrees but yours is a rare gift, indeed."

I digest this a moment as I inspect the front of Lagrange's shop.

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naturecoaster · 1 year

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Manatee Treat at Jenkins Creek Preserve

Like two hefty ballerinas, with a swish of their flat tails, the torpedo shaped manatee cow and her calf propelled themselves through the dark waters of the creek, keeping time with each other. The sea cow lifted her whiskered nose above the waterline to take a breath, snorting a spray of water into the air. https://youtu.be/ITVHiaes8cY Video of Manatee and calf at Jenkins Creek Preserve by Sally White. Jenkins Creek Preserve There’s always that one place you drive past over and over again, maybe even your entire life, and you always wonder what it’s like. Maybe you’re too busy, have a car full of kids, or groceries, on a hot summer’s day. There’s always a reason, an excuse not to stop. Jenkins Creek Preserve on Florida’s Nature Coast was that place for me. I’d seen it from Swamp Festival days when they were held at Linda Pedersen Park. I’d driven past the park in the early hours of the morning to catch fishing charters from Hernando Beach. I went past with a carload of hungry kids to find a place to dine in Bayport. I could see the fishing pier from the observation tower across the road - that I climbed not once, but thrice. I once even paddled past the wooden Jenkins Creek Bridge on my way to the tunnel under Shoal Line Boulevard during a trail paddle event. Finally, one day I said: ‘no more excuses’ and stopped with a friend at the 3-acre park nestled in the crook of Jenkins Creek on Florida’s Adventure Coast in Hernando Beach. It was late afternoon when we arrived. Wooden pavilions and block restrooms painted in a vibrant Key Lime color screamed ‘look at me!’ against a blue afternoon sky. Lime green structures provide a tropical splash of color at the Hernando County Park. Image by Sally White Paddling on Jenkins Creek The parking lot sat empty, under the shadow of the $10 parking fee sign, but a small boat ramp beckoned paddlers to try the waters of the spring fed creek. Put in and go under the bridge to the main creek. It’s a half-mile trip downriver where Jenkins Creek joins the Weeki Wachee River at Bayport to flow into the Gulf of Mexico. It’s a muddy trek in the opposite direction to reach the Jenkin Springs basin, impassable in times of drought and low tide. Boat Ramp at Jenkins Creek Preserve in Hernando Beach/Spring Hill. Image by Sally White Fishing at Jenkins Creek Preserve A wooden fishing pier runs the length of the park, over the creek. Open 24-hours a day, 7-days a week for local and visiting anglers to cast their lines and try their luck. Although there were no fishermen during our visit, the pier can get busy on weekends and holidays. A wooden bridge leads over the canal to a shady hammock at Jenkins Creek Preserve. Photo by Sally White At the end of the fishing pier, a wooden bridge stretches across the boat ramp canal, leading to a hammock of trees with wetland views and paths created by intrepid anglers hunting for a better fishing spot. Bridge over Jenkins Creek. Photo by Sally White One of the worn tracks follows the creek, with views of the water, before taking a muddy detour into the wiregrass. How far to go depends on tides and mud. It can get buggy out here as well. An inland trail leads through the trees with views of the labyrinthine salt marshes beyond. How far you can go on the waterline trail is determined by the tides and mud. Image by Sally White This little oasis of land is the sole place to stop on the Bayport to Linda Pedersen Park Coastal Paddling Trail, a well-marked 1.7-mile trail from Bayport and the Gulf of Mexico and up Jenkins Creek. Paddlers must tackle the tunnel under Shoal Line Boulevard to reach the end point at Linda Pedersen Park, and the sandy area along the waterway makes a welcoming area to stretch their legs. Manatees at Jenkins Creek Preserve My friend and I heard that familiar snorting puff and spotted a manatee swimming up the creek. We followed it along the trail. As the land curved into the canal by the bridge, we spotted the second manatee- a smaller baby. A sea cow nurses its calf for up to two years, keeping the youngster by its side. So vital is the mother and baby relationship that it is illegal by Florida law to come between a mother manatee and its baby. Manatees are relatives of the elephant. Photo by Sally White The mom and baby slowly made their way to the bridge, their whisker-lined snouts spread out to vacuum the bed of the creek for food. The cow, or mother manatee, continued her hovering closer to the embankment at the bridge. These humungous herbivores spend their days in search of food. Adult manatees can eat up to 100 pounds of aquatic plants a day - 10% of their body weight - in greens. She paused from her eating every now and then to raise her grey snout and inhale a breath of air. Manatees have been known to hold their breath for up to 20 minutes. Her flat front flippers stirred up the silt from the creek bed. A closer look reveals toenails on her flippers- like an elephant’s foot. Manatees are mammals that are most closely related to the elephant, with their toenails and thick skin and snout, a condensed version of an elephant’s trunk. The manatee used its snout to vacuum her food off the creek bed at Jenkins Creek. Photo by Sally White The calf rejoined its mom as they turned to swim toward the warmer waters of springs up the creek. Although Jenkins Creek Park is best known as a fishing spot, the slow-moving gentle giants roam up and down this waterway and a manatee sighting is always a treat. The view up Jankins Creek by Sally White. Things to Know about Jenkins Creek Preserve Before You Go: - Jenkins Creek Preserve is located at 6401 Shoal Line Boulevard in Hernando Beach, Florida. It sits across the road from Linda Pedersen Park. - Parking is $10. - There is a small boat ramp and paddle launch, picnicking shelters, and a restroom on site. - The creek is tidal influenced. Keep informed about the tides when venturing onto the water in this area. Read the full article

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kai-writes-fan-fiction · 3 years

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In Hiding Part 4/?

Hey loves! Sorry it took so long for me to write part 4, I’ve had school and band. I like this chapter, so I hope you do too!

Word count: 1566

Warnings: Really un graphic violence, mentions of undiagnosed PTSD, OCD, and depression, and my inability to write good endings

The last 30 minutes on the Quinjet were pure hell. Tony kept trying to grill you, and you didn’t respond, which motivated him to ask even more questions.

Finally, he rolled his eyes and asked, “Where are your parents?”

Hundreds of locked-away memories flooded your mind. Your parents had sold you to HYDRA at age 5. You didn't know much about your parents or their identities.

After he asked about your parents, you broke eye contact and looked anywhere but into someone's eyes.

“I see.” Tony scowled but continued asking more questions, but you weren't in the mood, even more now than before.

You eventually drifted off into a daydream as Tony’s questions slurred together. You dreamt about what your life could've been if you had parents and weren't mutant. You could still have parents; you wouldn't have sustained all of that torture at HYDRA, and you would've gotten to go to school!

School, something many take for granted. You didn't have any higher education, and being 15 and more innovative and 99.99% of the world, it was a moot point. Still, being among everyday people, having friends, and discovering your passions, would be amazing.

Snaps in your face brought you back, courtesy of Tony.

“Kid. Kid! Hello?” He snapped in your face.

You had returned to Earth and- hey, look at that! Tony is within head butting distance. Maybe it'd get him to shut up, or would Loki attack again? He was staring at you from the back of the jet, unmoving, eyes trying to predict your following movements.

“KID!” Tony shouted.

You'd had enough of hearing him in your face, so you turned back to him, made eye contact, and-

“Don’t do that, girl.” Loki snarled from his seat.

Tony turned to him and cocked his head.

“She was going to headbutt you, obviously. Don't get within 5 feet of her.”

Tony thanked him quietly and sat in his seat, glaring at you. You made eye contact with him once more, and you smirked.

The rest of the ride was quiet, save for a few tiny pockets of conversation and Tony coming up with more dumb questions, which you elected to ignore.

——————————

You had finally reached the compound, and all you could think about was your impending doom.

Steve picked you up again, as your restraints render you immobile. You fell limp in his arms, head dangling. You were so tired and so worried.

Steve carried you into the compound and to a room, or rather, a cell. The space was empty except for a cot in the corner and a sink. The wall next to the door sported a one-way mirror.

“You’ll stay in here; Stark wants to ask you more questions; he’ll be in here soon.” He put you down on the floor, and you looked up to him. He uncuffed you and swiftly ran out in fear of you trying to bolt again.

Little did you know, he and many of the other team members were staring at you from the other side of the glass, observing you in attempts to understand how you worked and your erotic behavior.

The room was made of something that made you powerless, and the walls were a blinding white. There weren’t any windows, and a single notepad and pencil lay on the bed.

You sat in the center of the room for 5 minutes, staying stationary. Once more, scenarios of what the Avengers might do to you crowded your mind. Tears came again, and you sobbed quietly. Everything hurt, and you were once again reminded that you'd been awake for almost 24 hours. So you carefully laid yourself out on the ground, being mindful of your bruises, and cried there.

—————Avengers POV—————

“So- uh- what do we do now?” Steve pointed to you, still crying on the floor.

“Poor thing,” Wanda remarked, frowning.

“Poor thing? She may be a child, but she's evil!” Tony scoffed.

“She could be a beneficial asset to the team,” Nat suggested.

“I don’t trust her.” Tony crossed his arms and looked back to your shaking figure.

“Tony, I kinda volunteered to go talk to her.” Steve turns back to him. “She's got a notepad, and if she doesn’t open up, we’ll send someone else in.”

“Why the hell did you volunteer me? Kid hates me; it's obvious.”

“Just go see if you can get anything out of her, Tony,” Natasha ordered.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, stepping into your cell.

—————Your POV—————

Tony Stark stepped into your cell, the door shut with a loud ‘thud.’ His intentions were unclear, so you backed into a corner. He crouched in front of you and looked into your puffy, red eyes.

Now that the two of you weren't fighting, he noticed how truly young you were; you still had that childlike glimmer in your bright blue eyes. You had been turned into a villain, but it wasn’t your fault.

“Hey, kid.”

You didn’t respond, just blinked. He grabbed the notepad and pencil on the bed.

“Since we haven’t heard you speak, we put this here for you to write on. Do you know how to write?”

Of course, you knew how to write. You stared at Stark, annoyed that he thought you couldn’t write, and slowly nodded your head.

He handed you the notepad and pencil and asked your name, which he knew. He was trying to create a sense of normalcy for you.

“(Y/N)” You wrote.

“You have great handwriting and a beautiful name (Y/N).” He said, reaching for your hand.

You winced when Tony touched you and quickly brushed him off.

“Understood.” Tony moved back and asked you, “Did HYDRA give you your powers?”

“I don’t think so. I was young. I don’t know.” You wrote. You did know, however. You were born with powers, and that’s why your parents sold you. You were too much to handle, and many people were willing to pay hefty prices for you.

You weren’t fond of visiting HYDRA memories, let alone talking about them. Memories of being tortured plagued your dreams every night, and it seems that HYDRA had found a way to torture you even after you escaped.

Often loud noises would bring back memories, as would needles and human contact.

“I want my clothes back.” You wrote. You thought they might bring some semblance of home, a piece of you to hold, and you’d be able to smell your apartment and yourself.

Tony nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you need anything else?”

You shook your head and wrote, “Please leave now. And don’t stare at me from the window. It's creepy.”

Tony chuckled. “Ok, Banner is going to come to check on you at some point.”

You nodded and waved your hand towards the door, signaling him to leave.

Tony slowly got up, and you stared silently as he left the cell. Before he shut the door, he looked back to you, stationary on the floor, staring up at him. Once he was gone, you stared into the mirror, not at yourself but any unsuspecting souls behind it.

Once you thought the sufficient amount of staring was reached, you got up and went to the bed at the far corner of your cell. It was perpendicular to the door, so you could see if anyone entered and be ready to defend yourself.

–—————————

It must've been an hour or so until Banner walked into your cell. You jumped up from the bed and pushed yourself into a corner. He frowned and set down what he was carrying, which was a tray of food and your clothing.

He stepped away from said items, and you scrambled to grab them, scared he’d take them back. You backed yourself into your corner once more, shielding yourself with your clothing.

“Hey, (Y/N). Remember me?”

You scowled. You remembered him, and you weren't very fond of the memories you shared with him.

You didn't move, eyes still trained on him. He kneeled about 5 feet away from you, not wanting to startle you.

His voice was low and soft when he asked, “Can I come closer?”

You stared, not knowing how to answer. Would Bruce hurt you again? Could you trust him? It didn’t look like he was holding anything more to hurt you. You allowed yourself to creep closer, slowly inching towards him.

“See, baby steps.” He looked towards the window. You assumed some people were still watching the two of you.

You let yourself come closer, until you were about a foot away from him.

“Can I touch your hand?” He reached out and touched you, but you winced and pulled your hand away. You still didn’t trust him, you would need a whole lot more prof before letting him, or anyone for that matter, touch you.

“Ok, I’m going to go now, get some sleep.” He stood and turned away from you, heading to the exit.

He stepped out, and turned off the lights in your room. It was almost pitch black, except for a dim light coming through the window. You climbed into the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. You were exhausted, but sleep refused to come.

It must have been 45 minutes when you finally drifted off to a restless sleep. You dreamt about what would meet you in the morning.

Tag list: @sweetpeaflower01 @kinny-away @mangobangi @cumulonimbus34 @oakiedokie @moonbaejpeg @coollemonsaresour @screechingshepherddeputygoth @trinity-1002107 @padmoonyfeorge @laurenced1l @vaaalexandra

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Menagerie

Summary Quote: “Don’t you get it? It’s all been a lie, Spence. Since the moment we met, our entire relationship has been founded on a carefully crafted lie and since then, we have been tricked into thinking this was love...but maybe that was a lie too.”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst with happy ending, Fluff

A/N: this fic has already been completed! it’s 25 chapters and just over 40,000 words. i don’t plan on posting all the chapters on to here but i have included the first two and the ao3 link to the rest is at the bottom if you are interested!

Chapter 1

You woke up from your peaceful slumber to hear a loud crash followed closely by someone yelling “FBI”. You screamed, alerting the agents of your presence thinking you were in danger but once the agents had reached your bedroom, you were being put in handcuffs and read your rights.

“W-What is happening? Is this some sort of sick joke?” you stuttered.

“Do you think killing three men is a sick joke?” the muscular intimidating agent spat back.

You were in utter shock. You barely even left the house let alone go out on a murderous rampage.

“I-I don’t know what you think I did b-but I can assure you I-I didn’t kill anyone or do anything illegal,” you tried to stay as calm as possible but you were shaking profusely.

The other agent that was the back-up in your apprehension seemed to notice this and took some sympathy on you by lightening his grip on your cuffs as he led you out of your front door that had been kicked down.

You sat in the chilly interrogation room wishing you had something else on rather than a thrifted oversized t-shirt with stains on it that said “Best Dad Ever” and sweatpants. They removed your handcuffs, I guess you weren't considered that much of a threat in a locked room in FBI Headquarters. Although you could not see past the one-sided glass, it was obvious the agents from before and possibly others from their team were standing on the other side, observing you.

“Well she is definitely not what I was expecting,” Prentiss was the first to break the silence as the whole BAU team watched you through the glass.

“She was sleeping when we apprehended her. Her facial expressions and body language showed clear signs of distress but I can not be certain if it was because we have the wrong person or she is scared she finally got caught. In her apartment, we found nothing in the slightest bit incriminating, mostly just lots of books,” Spencer spoke, while he was trying to remain impartial, he had admired your taste in literature as he was looking for evidence.

“I’m not convinced. I think this is whole ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ thing is an act,” Morgan stated as he strolled to the door leading to the room you were being held in.

The door opened and your eyes flickered up. Much to my dismay, it was the muscular agent rather than the tall, lanky agent who seemed a lot friendlier to you, given the circumstances.

He took the seat across from you and spoke firmly, “I am ready to take your confession whenever you are.”

At this point, you were just getting frustrated. You were ripped from your bed in the middle of the night given no explanation other than you had supposedly killed three men and he had the audacity to ask for your confession to something no one would even tell you the details of. So against your better judgment, you opened your mouth which has been known to get you in trouble from time to time.

“Well, considering no one has even told me what I am formally being accused of or the details, I can’t do that. Do you even have any evidence to keep me here? Oh wait...you don’t...that’s why you need a confession because all your evidence so far has been circumstantial. Only too bad for you...I know my rights. So, you have forty-eight hours to find some real evidence against me, that doesn’t exist if I may add, before you have to let me go.”

The agent looked back at the glass with his jaw dropped.

“I watch a lot of crime TV shows,” you huffed and crossed your arms.

“Okay this may be harder than we originally planned, folks. We are going to need everyone on call for the next forty-eight hours until we find some incriminating evidence,” Hotch spoke.

The agents began to depart from the room to review old case files and dig deeper into your personal history. Spencer stayed back for a few minutes and saw tears start to roll down your face when you thought no one was still watching you. You quickly wiped them away and wringed your fingers together. Spencer didn’t know if he should or not yet but he felt bad for you.

Chapter 2

The door opened again but this time, you just kept your eyes down at the table so the person could not see your watery eyes.

You have been trying to put up a brave face but every time, a different agent comes in to question you about your routine, friends, family, and personal life, you just feel exposed.

Traces of your DNA had been found on the bodies and they had all visited your bookstore but that wasn’t enough to convict you I guess. You didn’t know the victims personally but you still felt bad for them.

A cup of coffee was placed gently into your line of sight. You wrapped your hands around the warm paper cup and mumbled your thanks.

“I didn’t know how you liked it. I can add more creamer or sugar if you like,” the voice spoke.

You glanced up tentatively and it was the tall, lanky agent. Your lips turned up ever so slightly into a small smile but it was the most you could manage at the moment. You took a sip.

“No it’s fine, thank you. It really helps. I appreciate it,” you said.

“I’m Spencer, by the way”

“Y/N, but you probably already know that by now.”

He chuckled at your joke. Silence filled the room once again.

“I didn’t do it, Spencer...and I know I can’t really prove that but I wish I could. Most of my friends live in another state and so does my family so I don’t go out too often. I don’t have a boyfriend. I own a bookstore so I spend most of my time there. I don’t really know why this is happening to me,” you started to get choked up again so you stopped talking.

Spencer involuntarily blushed when you stated you didn’t have a boyfriend.

He really needed to get it together as much as he wanted to believe you.

You could be a murderer for all he knows...but a really pretty murderer with a great taste in literature and probably even a bigger collection of books than him.

Stop it, Spencer, get your head in the game. He smiled softly once more at you cradling your drink and exited the room.

The forty-eight hours were up. They had nothing solid against you. If anything, the team had less of a case against you.

The bodies were all dumped on the opposite side of town from where you lived but it was clear they had been transported there. Garcia’s digging showed you had no car and you weren’t lying when you said most of your friends and family live out of state so the chances of you borrowing someone else's car were unlikely.

Credit card receipts showed you hardly ever went to that side of town and they had profiled the unsub would know the area well.

The victims did come into your store a few times but they also visited all the shops on that street occasionally as well. It didn’t make sense for you to kill your customers. That would just be bad for business and easily linked back to you.

The team agreed that they believed Y/N was no longer a suspect.

An officer drove you back to your apartment where luckily, your door had been fixed.

You ordered takeout and took a shower to hopefully rid yourself of the stress of the past two days. Shortly after your dinner, you fell asleep hoping your door would not be busted down again by the FBI.

A few days had past and you were opening up the store for the morning. You were in the back organizing the nonfiction section when you heard the soft bell chime of the door opening.

You walked to the front expecting to greet one of your regulars. Once you saw who was standing shyly at the front desk, you stopped in your tracks.

“Spencer?”

“Uh h-hi-hello Y/N. How are you?”

“Good...unless you are here to bring me back in for more questioning”, you said half-joking half-seriously.

“Oh! Um no, you’re all set. I am truly sorry about that. But I do have a question for you”, he was nervously wringing his hands just like you do, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“It’s okay kind of sounds like the wrong thing to say because I would preferably not be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and then held for forty-hours but I understand, you were simply doing your job. Anyways, ask away,” you replied.

His eyes finally made contact with yours and he opened his mouth like he was about to say something but completely lost his confidence.

“Do you...um do you...do you have a nonfiction section?” Spencer blurted out.

You didn’t understand how the nonfiction section could make someone so nervous. He looked as if he was going to say something else but thought better of it.

“Of course! I was just organizing it! Right this way!” you chirped with a smile that seemed to untense his shoulders just a little bit.

Spencer perused the section a bit before deciding on a hefty book about the different plants and flowers native to the East Coast. When he made his way up to the front desk to check out, you praised his choice.

“Aw! I love reading about plants. I have some many succulents in my apartment. It's honestly more of a jungle. Have you ever seen forget-me-nots? So lovely!”

Spencer smiled and nodded, knowing if he tried to speak it would be gibberish because he could not focus on anything when he was looking at your radiant smile.

“Did you do it?”, Morgan asked as Spencer entered the bullpen with a brown bag.

“No but now I have a book on plants and flowers. I actually am excited to read it. Did you know that some plants like orchids do not require soil to grow they get their nutrients from-”

“You chickened out”, Derek sighed.

“She is so pretty! She was just standing there in all her radiance smiling at me and I couldn’t take the rejection. We dragged her out of her bed and put her in handcuffs only to find out two days later, she is innocent. I can hardly believe she is still being nice to me despite it.”

“Well believe it or not, the first night I met a girl, she was in handcuffs in her bed with me so it’s not always a bad thing,” Morgan smirked.

“Not appropriate, Morgan,” Spencer scolded.

“What are we talking about? I don’t like to not be included in the gossip!” Garcia ran over in her pink heels with Prentiss right behind her.

“Pretty Ricky here went to visit Y/N at her bookstore but then chickened out about asking her on a date,” Morgan informed them.

“Awwwww! I like her! She’s so pretty! Plus, I have already done a background search on her and she is squeaky clean now that we have proven she isn’t a murderer,” Garcia excitedly rambled.

Prentiss was nodding her head in agreement, grinning at Spencer.

Spencer had already chugged his morning cup of coffee during this conversation just to have an excuse to go get another cup and leave this conversation.

“You can’t run away from your feelings, Boy Wonder!” Garcia shouted.

Chapters 3-25

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #cm fanfic #reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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alienheartattack · 3 years

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Sweet Revenge (Inexorable AU)

Word Count: 2260 words

Rating: E. They fuck. It’s dope. Don’t read if you’re underage or have objections to explicit adult content.

Summary: Levi and Mikasa have a feud at the school bake sale and decide to get revenge on their PTA nemesis.

Notes: For non-US readers, PTA stands for parent-teacher association, where parents volunteer at their children’s schools to get involved in the school’s activities and influence the quality of their child’s education, usually through fundraisers and other events.

This story takes place 8-9 years after the events of Inexorable and about 2 years after the events of the other Inexorable AU fics, A Scream in the Night and A Minor Dispute About Rain. The only thing you really need to know if you haven’t read those is that Levi and Mikasa have a daughter named Anya, who is basically a grumpy mini Levi, in addition to Hana.

The only thing keeping Levi from running after the PTA president and giving her a hefty piece of his mind is Mikasa’s grip, firm and insistent, on the hem of his sweater.

“You’re going to stretch it out,” Levi snaps at his wife, redirecting his ire at the closest target. Mikasa idly caresses the swell of her belly with one hand and looks at him with one eyebrow raised, silently asking if he wants to argue with his pregnant wife in public.

“I’ll let you go when I’m confident you’re not going to track Joanne down and scream in her face,” she says calmly. “As much as I’d like to see that.”

“She fucking begged us to help out at this bake sale and now she’s just gonna call our lemon bars basic?! We’re not goddamn pastry chefs!”

“Levi, listen to yourself. You sound legitimately insane.”

He sighs, letting his shoulders drop as the tension and rage starts to leave his body. Mikasa releases his sweater and he collapses into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. She joins him, gingerly lowering herself onto the uncomfortable metal folding chair provided by the school.

“I hate this so much. I hate Joanne, I hate being on the PTA, and I absolutely fucking hate bake sales,” he huffs.

"Well, we’re stuck here for the evening. I don’t want to be here either but I’m trying to make the most of it. Mikasa picks up a lemon bar and takes a huge bite. "Besides, fuck Joanne. These are good.”

Levi motions for Mikasa to give him a bite. “Fuck Joanne,” he agrees through a mouthful of pastry and curd.

Thankfully business picks up after that, and Levi and Mikasa spend the next half hour handing out lemon bars to parents and kids, ignoring Joanne hovering around them and observing their dealings with a disdainful eye. When the rush clears, she slowly approaches their table, pretending to be browsing. They both clock her gaze drifting over their mostly empty dish of lemon bars and the small twitch at the corner of her mouth that telegraphs her dissatisfaction with the Ackermans’ success. Triumphant, they share a brief glance, another silent Fuck Joanne.

To their dismay, she approaches Mikasa, staring at her oversized t-shirt dress. “Bun in the oven,” Joanne reads, her cold eyes sweeping over the looped script printed across Mikasa’s abdomen, decorated with a drawing of a smiling roll baking away. “Oh, you’re pregnant, sweetie! Congratulations!” There’s sweetness in her voice, but it’s tinged with venom. Mikasa knows it all too well.

“Thanks,” she mutters, bracing herself for the backhanded part of Joanne’s compliment.

“I thought you’d just let yourself go, but it’s a blessing instead! What a relief!” She laughs uproariously at her own joke. Levi jams his hands into the pockets of his jeans, balling them into tight fists so Joanne can’t see how enraged he is. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

Mikasa does not answer, instead focusing her energy on keeping a straight face while she contemplates murder. Levi can sense her tensing up, her shoulders stiffening, fury radiating from her body in waves.

“It’s a boy,” he cuts in curtly. “We’ve already got our two girls.”

“Your oldest isn’t—” Joanne’s voice drops to a near-whisper— “yours, though, is she?”

Levi narrows his eyes, no longer interested in hiding his annoyance. “She’s mine. I’ve helped raise her since she was a baby.”

“Oh, how sweet. What a modern family,” she gushes, cooing with an edge of condescension in her voice. “Well, congratulations.” She then turns and walks off, conveniently waving to someone across the room.

“Are you okay?” Levi asks Mikasa in a low voice once Joanne is out of earshot. Mikasa stares after her, eyes black with rage, her breath hissing through clenched teeth. She doesn’t need to say anything; he already knows the answer is no.

He places a reassuring hand on the back of her neck, massaging her nape the way she does to him when he’s stressed and ranting. “Tell you what, I’ll go out to the car and grab something sharp, we slice Joanne’s Achilles tendons and then get the hell out of here.”

“What? No!” She looks over at him, her expression disgusted and exasperated. “You have to stop watching gore movies with Hana. She’s barely ten.”

“She loves them! We were watching some zombie bullshit the other day and that little monster laughed while watching a guy get his guts ripped out and eaten. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna grow up to be a serial killer.”

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “Well, if she is, she gets it from Eren’s side of the family.” Even though he’s still angry on his wife’s behalf, Levi can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Fucking Joanne,” he grumbles. “If zombies ate her guts they’d spit them back out. Her kid’s an asshole, too.” Mikasa is well aware of that fact: Joanne’s son tried bullying Anya at the beginning of the school year, calling her a midget and pulling her hair until she had enough and whacked him in the face with her math textbook. That was Levi and Mikasa’s first run-in with Joanne before they joined the PTA, and things have only gone downhill since.

A few more kids approach the table, hesitant due to Levi’s scowl; Mikasa shutters her anger behind a calm facade and handles the sales, though she doesn’t say much.

When the latest wave of customers leaves, she turns to her husband. “I think I have an idea to make both of us feel better.”

A look of skepticism crosses his face. “Really? I was kinda hoping for that severed Achilles tendon.”

Mikasa facepalms; she’s had years to grow accustomed to her husband’s awkwardness and his awful jokes, but sometimes he still manages to surprise her. Ironically it only makes her love him more, this odd, cranky man who might literally kill for her.

“Joanne parked next to us, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, remember? I said her car looks like the physical embodiment of vaginal dryness and you laughed so hard you peed a little.”

“You really didn’t have to mention that last part.”

“I dunno, it gives the story flavor. Pee flavor.”

“Look, I have an idea. Get someone to take the rest of the lemon bars, then meet me in the parking lot. If anyone asks, I’m not feeling well and you need to take me home.”

Levi sighs. “What are you planning?”

Mikasa leans in close to him, her lips millimeters from his ear. “Meet me outside and you’ll see,” she purrs.

Five minutes later he bursts through the metal doors at the back of the school to see her sitting on the hood of Joanne’s car, an aggressively beige sedan.

“Come here,” she beckons him. He approaches her and, when he is within reach, she grabs his shirt and pulls him to her. Their lips collide awkwardly before settling into the familiar rhythm of their kissing, slow and deep.

After a few moments, he pulls away. “What is going on here?”

“Revenge,” she says. “I want you to fuck me on the hood of Joanne’s car.”

He ponders the suggestion for a moment, then smiles — and then a giggle escapes his mouth, a sound somewhere between bewilderment and glee, then another, then another.

“Aw, come on, don’t laugh. I thought it’d be fun.” She frowns, embarrassment heating and coloring her cheeks.

“No, no,” he says once he’s able to control his laughter. “I fucking love it.” He kisses her fiercely, growling deep in his throat. “I fucking love you.” Mikasa smiles, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. There’s some maneuvering involved in getting her underwear off, her round belly making the whole process somewhat unwieldy; Levi stuffs them in his pocket then gets down on the concrete, kneeling before her.

“Are you serious?” she squeals, trying to look at him over the curve of her stomach.

“If anyone asks, tell them you went into labor and I’m checking how far along you are.” With a low laugh he gets to work, nuzzling her pussy before licking a firm stroke along her seam. Mikasa bites her lip and lets out a shaky anticipatory breath in the brief moment before Levi lavishes attention on her clit, massaging it with his lips and tongue. She gasps when he pulls away from her a few minutes later, halfway to orgasm and disappointed not to get there.

“We need to be fast,” he says in lieu of an apology, undoing his pants and pulling out his half-hard cock, pumping it a few times in his fist. “I’ll finish you off at home.”

“You’d better,” she replies, a playful threat.

Levi settles himself between her legs then enters her with no warning or fanfare save the soft moan they both make, a low noise of contentment, of wholeness. They have always been a fearsome team, first as colleagues, then lovers, now spouses and parents, and their lovemaking is no different, each of them able to discern angles and positions from sighs, from grunts, from the furrow of a brow or the touch of a hand. Tonight Mikasa slides her hands down Levi’s back, skating over the soft brushed cashmere of his sweater, telling him that she wants him to be gentle with her — for now, anyway. Joanne’s comment must have stung, he thinks, and he resolves to show her exactly how beautiful he thinks she is, pregnant or not. There’s a certain earthy, ephemeral beauty in her pregnant body, something attractive and incredibly arousing about the thought of her creating and building life even as she sits next to him selling lemon bars at a school bake sale. He loves the way her hard edges have softened, the pleasing new fullness in her cheeks, the luminous glow that seems to emanate from within her.

(He has learned since her last pregnancy not to mention that he also loves the growing size of her breasts, and in return Mikasa only rebukes him for staring when he’s open-mouthed and practically drooling.)

Mikasa’s eyes flutter closed as Levi rocks against her, a gentle motion that makes the car bounce in time with his thrusts. A bubble of laughter escapes her lips.

“What’s that for?” he asks with a smile, then kisses her before she can answer.

“I love you so much,” she says against his mouth. “And fuck Joanne.”

Levi stops moving; Mikasa cocks her head, silently asking him what’s wrong. “Don’t say that bitch’s name when I’m inside you.”

“Look, do you want to revenge-fuck me or not?” She isn’t sure if that’s a word, but during sex, when they’re heated and frantic for each other, even Levi’s crude come-ons sound like poetry, so maybe this will work.

It does. “You want me to revenge-fuck you?” he growls, slapping his hips against hers with a rough thrust. She whimpers at the impact, a wave of pleasure rippling through her body.

“Yeah,” she pants. “Show me how angry you are.”

He makes a low hum of approval; though he’s become more proficient at sweet talk and romance in the years he’s been with Mikasa, he tends to favor sex as intense as his personality, grasping hands and heavy eye contact. Mikasa has never seemed to mind though sometimes, like tonight, she needs him to make love to her first.

Levi fucks her hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the cool night, her cunt making obscene liquid noises around his cock. Even through the delicious haze of their passion they’re listening out for footsteps, for cars, for the creak of doors opening.

“We should finish soon,” Mikasa pants.

“I’m close.” He slows his pace, grinding against her, sinking into her as deep as he can go, before pulling back and scything into her slick heat again and again, harder and harder, muttering curses and endearments and wordless sounds of effort and desire.

And then he thrusts into Mikasa so roughly that her ass hits the hood of Joanne’s car hard, triggering the car alarm, horn blaring and lights flashing.

“Shit!” Levi yelps, startled by the sudden noise. He jumps back from her, stuffing his stiff, aching cock back in his pants and undoing the fly with adrenaline-shaky fingers.

“We gotta go!” She hops down from the car, landing unsteadily on her feet, pulling her dress down over her nudity. “Do you have the keys?” She scrambles over to their car, pulling at the handle of the locked passenger door. “Come on!”

Levi reaches in his pocket for the key fob, mashing the buttons so the doors unlock and the ignition turns on. Mikasa clambers into the car as fast as she can, slamming the door behind her, and Levi follows soon after. Through the windshield she can see someone coming to locate the source of the commotion and chants, “Drive! Drive!” at Levi while he clicks his seatbelt into place.

“Seatbelt!” he barks at her and she complies, fear and arousal and adrenaline making her feel jittery and giggly and wonderfully alive. Levi remains stoic, but there’s a devilish glee playing at the corners of his lips: he’s enjoying himself just as much as she is. He backs their car out of the parking spot with the precision of a stunt driver and peels off, speeding off into the night seconds before Joanne comes outside to investigate the shrieking car alarm and the strange ass-shaped dent on her hood.

#rivamika #alienheartattack writes #this fic has been in the works for YEARS and i've only managed to finish it today #if you dig through my blog there's a headcanon about this #it's good to be back!#i am working on other prompts - y'all really want some cottagecore arranged marriage stuff #the only arranged marriage AU I have in my head is dark af but I'll probably write it anyway #and I do have an old cottagecore postcanon fic idea i might be able to use #am I just procrastinating writing my novel? probably #btw if you want to know about that plz drop me an ask #i am 165k words in and it's still not done #and yes it is smutty and romantic

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kaitwrites · 3 years

Text

Part 22; Apologies

Word Count: ~3k

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, it’s finally here. First of all I’d like to say I’m very nervous lol. But also, a HUGE thank you to @garbagepale-kid for editing and proof-reading for me. Best Wife Cassie <3. Secondly, she has given me so much confidence in my writing and I love her so much for that. Once again, Cassie Best wife. Also you can follow her (18+) writing blog here. In other news I just finished my last 55 hour week at work, and I only have four more days of work before a week of vacation! Anyway, the next part will be written as well, and I hope you guys enjoy <3

You stared at your phone, watching anxiously as the minutes ticked by. After making it back to the hotel you made a beeline for the little gazebo off to the side of the property. With the late hour and it also being a weekday, you were left waiting alone in the dark, unbothered as you sat on the weathered bench. The only light came from the dim bulb that seemed to hang only by a thread from the tented ceiling. Bakugo had said he wanted to take a shower before meeting with you, but the longer you waited, the more you feared you’d been stood up.

Finally, you spotted a familiar spiky-haired shadow coming from around the corner and your heartbeat spiked in your chest.

You let out a shaky breath as he approached, relieved that he had finally shown up. “Hi.”

He offered you a rare smile, one it seemed only you got to see. “Hey.” He had stopped at the steps, not making a move to come any closer - almost unsure what to do with himself. “So…”

“So?” You questioned, your voice coming out far more confident than you thought it would.

Bakugo huffed and made his way up the few steps, sliding onto the bench beside you. The old wood creaked under your combined weight. He sat facing forward, choosing to stare out into the darkness. “So, you and Sero?” There was a bite to his tone.

Your eyes narrowed. “What about me and Sero?” You quipped back, your tone just as harsh.

You observed him carefully as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, bracing yourself for an onslaught of the usual insults you heard thrown at your friends. “What are you two?”

You were taken aback by how soft his voice was when he asked, and it took you a moment to compose yourself once more before answering him. “What does it matter to you what goes on between me and Sero?”

“Because, damn it!” He let out a hefty sigh, knotting his hands into his hair. “I thought we had something.” He hissed out through clenched teeth.

You turned away in disbelief, unsure of how to react. He planned this whole thing, the song, the apology, in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people, but he wanted to get upset with you? Act like you had been the one in the wrong this entire time? Sure what you and Hanta had was artificial, but did he really expect you to wait around while he tried to figure out how to communicate with you? It wasn’t like you two had been anything official, so what was the big deal if you had started seeing someone? The questions mounted and mixed poorly with a nearly-venomous sense of indignation, erasing any of the calm you’d been maintaining.

You threw your hands up in exasperation, ignoring the way he flinched away from the unexpected sudden movement. “You know what? I thought we did too. But then you kicked me out of your hotel room, wouldn’t tell me why! You ignored me for weeks, Bakugo! I think I deserve an explanation!”

“Fuck! I know!” He shouted, making you jump. He noticed it from the corner of his eye and took a deep breath before he spoke again, this time a little calmer.

“I knew your phone had died so I plugged it in for you. Figured I’d save you the hassle in the morning. It started going off like crazy once it turned back on and I assumed it was those idiots blowing up your phone. He slumped his shoulders, leaning back against the bench. “I was going to tell them to shut the hell up and leave you alone so you could sleep, but the messages were from some guy acting like your boyfriend or something - I got angry.”

You fisted your hands in the hem of your shirt, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the thin material. “No shit! Why didn’t you talk to me?”

His gaze shifted to the floor, unable to look in your direction after hearing the hurt and anger in your voice. “I wanted to! I knew I had upset you and I figured you’d be over it in a few days. But when Kirishima told me just how upset you were I just- I couldn’t. I’m just some asshole, and you deserve better than that. I couldn’t talk to you.”

You glared at his profile, lips pressed into a thin line, waiting for him to face you and continue. The silence stretched on for several moments, so you cut in. “You could have texted me, called me, wrote me a note, sent me a fucking email for god’s sake! But instead, I was left sitting alone agonizing over what in the hell I could have done that made you so mad at me!”

“I realized I fucked up. No matter how much I wanted to talk to you I know I’d just fuck it up and hurt you all over again.” He finally turned his gaze to you, features softening once he saw the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He ventured again, barely audible “But now I realize that not talking to you hurt you more than anything I could have done.”

You aggressively wiped at your eyes as the tears escaped, realizing you were more frustrated by the burst of tears than you were angry with Bakugo.

“You had become such a constant in my day to day life, and just like that, the familiarity was gone. You were gone. You wouldn’t even look at me. I was literally packing my bags a week and a half ago because being around you was not only uncomfortable, but it hurt.”

Bakugo shifted on the bench beside you, uncomfortable from the sudden burst of tears. He wasn’t good with his own emotions, let alone someone else's. A slew of curses ran through his brain as he tried to gather the right words to say to try to make you feel better. A stab of guilt shot through his heart watching your shoulders shake as you tried to hide your face from him. Damn, he thought, this is all my fault. He slid off the bench with an exasperated sigh, kneeling in front of you and tilting your face to meet his eyes. “Damn it, stop crying dumbass.” His hand slid up to your cheek, wiping the tears that continued to trail down your face. “Especially over some asshole.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re the asshole I’m crying over.” You spat, pushing his hands away.

“Listen. I’m not good at shit like this, alright?” His voice no longer held the softness it had just moments prior. You went to speak but he cut you off abruptly. “Just- let me talk, okay?” You nodded, letting him say his piece.

He took a deep breath, eyes pointed at the ground. “I fucked up. I know I did, alright? I’m not- I don’t know how to do stuff like this, I never cared how anyone felt before you came along. To be honest, I regretted kicking you out as soon as I did it, hearing the pain in your voice then- Even now, it’s still… I don’t even know how to describe it. But, fuck. I'm just trying to say sorry, alright?”

“It’s called guilt.” You sniffled, bumping your leg against his.

He moved back beside you on the bench, and after a moment of hesitation he pulled your legs into his lap. Your heart fluttered at the sudden movement, and you were tempted to remove your legs from his light grip, but it felt right. You sighed and let yourself relax into him and he wrapped his free arm around you as you let your head rest on his shoulder. I’m so tired of being mad at him. You thought, I want this moment with him, I don’t want to fight against it. I’ve missed him so much.

His hand came up, stroking your hair with a tenderness that surprised you, and you melted into his touch. “I know what it’s called, Dumbass.”

You closed your eyes, taking in the scent of his body wash. It smelled like the forest after it had just rained, and reminded you of all of the nights you had fallen asleep in his room while you worked on videos or watched movies together. How you would wake up snuggled up to his firm chest and he would complain that you took up all the room on the bed so he had no choice but to be so close to you. You smiled fondly at the memory and felt a few more tears fall from your eyes.

His hand rested on your knee and gently squeezed. “I thought I told you to stop crying over some asshole.” He slowly brought his hand up to wipe at your tears, assuming you would push him away once more. The weight of his hand disappeared from your head, drifting down to wipe your tears even though he was sure you’d try to push him away again. To his surprise, you let him.

You pressed your cheek into his calloused hand letting out a shaky sigh when it lingered a little longer than necessary. You looked up at him through wet eyelashes.

“Say it again.” You mumbled.

He pulled his hand back, confused. “Don’t cry over an asshole? I think twice is enough, you really need to hear it a third time?”

“No, you idiot.” You sighed, pushing his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

He smirked and placed his hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

This time it wasn’t surrounded by a jumbled mess of an explanation, it wasn’t a quick, quiet apology like he had done prior. It felt genuine. It was genuine. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, and you could feel the tears burning in your eyes again, but you pushed them back and let a shaky breath escape your lips.

“I forgive you, but it’s not okay. Learn how to talk to people.” You flicked him on the forehead and he grabbed your wrist, returning the motion to your forehead. “Hey!”

“I’m working on it, woman.” He let go of your wrist but slid your hand into his, gently squeezing it before dropping it completely. “Shitty Hair already told me about you and Sero, but I want to hear it from you.”

“Damn it, Kirishima!” You threw your head back, covering your face with your hands. You had asked him not to say anything to Bakugo about it, scared that it would just anger the blonde and make him never want to speak to you again, and you were aggravated that your best friend had decided to tell Bakugo instead of just letting things take their course. But suddenly, what Kirishima told you had made sense. You two are going to be the death of me. At first, you thought he meant you and Sero, but the more you thought about it, he was talking about you and Bakugo. Mina said that Kirishima had been working with Bakugo for a while, and he was probably just trying to get a handle on the situation, tired of having to go back and forth especially if it was going to be all for nothing. Kirishima never should have been caught up in the middle of the mess between the two of you, Bakugo could have talked to you, and you could have just gotten over it and made him talk to you in person, even when he was ignoring all of your messages.

You narrowed your eyes once more, crossing your arms over your chest.“You drove Kirishima just as crazy as I did, didn’t you?”

He mimicked you, quirking a brow as he crossed his arms over his own chest. “You have no proof.”

“Stop copying me, liar. I can’t believe I’m attracted to a liar.” You reached out to pry his arms from his chest, but he turned it around on you, grabbing yours and pulling you so close so you could feel his breath on your face.

“So you’re attracted to me?” You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled down to your lips, then quickly darted back up to your eyes, a smirk forming on his own lips

“I never denied it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he moved his hand up your arm. “You would have known forever ago if you hadn’t been so mean to me.”

His crimson eyes made their way back down to your lips once more, and you shivered under his gaze. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you, observing your features carefully as he drew closer. He slowly closed his eyes, but you put a hand to his chest and stopped him. He eased back, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering open and breath heavy as if he had been holding it this whole time.

“What now, dumbass?” He was annoyed, but his voice wasn’t as gruff as it usually was.

“I need to talk to Sero.”

“Oh? Need to fake break up with your fake boyfriend?” He chuckled, hands trailing up and down your arms. “Come on, Y/N.”

“Well, It’s a little more complicated than that.” You bit your lip and looked down, nervous to tell him about what had happened earlier in the night, anxiety eating at your nerves over the events of the evening.

He rolled his eyes as he waited for you to continue. “Spit it out, Y/N.”

Sero had been there for you for this entire ordeal, hell even before Bakugo came into the picture, he was one you could always come to and he would welcome you with open arms, dropping whatever he was doing for you. And what if that kiss had meant something to him? Obviously, you were taken back by it at first and you weren’t sure how to feel, but he knew that all of this was for Bakugo, and since this - or at least something - was happening between you and Bakugo, he deserved to know what happened.

“He kissed me earlier before you guys went on stage. He came down to get some drinks and we ran into each other at the bar. I just wanted to tell you because I didn’t want you finding out later and getting upset with me again.”

“Mother fucker.” He pulled back and his hands tightened on your arms for a minute before he let go. You saw anger flash in his eyes, and you were preparing yourself for an outburst. “I was supposed to be the first one in this damn band of idiots to kiss you.” He was trying to keep a light tone with the joke, but you could tell he was struggling to keep his cool.

“Hate to break it to you, he wasn’t the first to kiss me either.” You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, always shocked at how soft his seemingly prickly hair was.

“Shouldn’t be surprised you kissed that red-haired idiot.” He leaned his head back into your hand as you scratched his scalp, side-eyeing you as you giggled.

“Wrong again! Jirou and I made out once or twice, no big deal.” You smiled as his mouth fell open in shock. “Actually, the only person I haven’t kissed is Kirishima. Well, and you.” His hands made their way down to your hips and he pinched you at your remark.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised. You two did seem close.” Soft circles were rubbed into your sides before a look of realization came across his face. “Wait, even that purple-haired bastard?”

“Only once during spin the bottle when we were in high school.” You giggled, watching a pout form on his lips. “Aw, what’s the matter, Katsuki?” You reached up to pinch his cheek, “you jealous-“ He grabbed your hand, cutting you off and pulling you completely onto his lap, his lips just a few mere inches from yours.

“What were you saying?” He whispered, his lips just barely ghosting against yours, eyes half shut, staring up at you. Goosebumps ran up your spine as he ran his hands up your sides. “Not so talkative now are we?”

You inhaled sharply and placed your hands on either side of his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “I missed you.”

“I’ve been here the whole time.” He squeezed your sides and kissed your jaw, leaving tingles where his lips had met your skin. You visibly shivered and sighed, leaning more into him, allowing him to continue the light trail of kisses along your jaw. “Come back to my room.” He whispered.

You nodded, opening your eyes and peering down at him. “After I talk to Sero.” His grip tightened at the sound of his name and you didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up in disapproval, but he lazily let his hands fall from your sides. “It won’t take long,” you promised, slowly making your way off his lap already, missing the presence of his hands on your sides.

You had barely made it two steps away from him before you felt his hand at your wrist, pulling you back and twisting you around to face him once more. “You really thought I’d let you go that easily?” His free hand landed on your cheek, making its way to the back of your head and pulling you closer to him, his lips finally meeting yours.

Taglist! @hopelesshawks @goustcop @pride-of-persephone @jadenyukis-bodypillow @unawi13-blog @sokka-simp @astroninaaa @pansinspace @oikawasiwa @thelifeoftheshorty @camry-orphanaccount @vhskenma @hallothankmas @pinkquartz19 @reblogs-of-things-i-like @xxoperatexx @kiristanfirsthuman2nd @introvertatitsfinest @garbagepale-kid @calumsfringe @itsmysticalmystery @sirachano0dles @bakugousflowerprincess @fukyouthink @ynfics @hadesnewpersephone @cirtruss @cherryblossom242 @chaichai-the-weeb @sergeant102105 @punicorn999 @definitelynotaundrayah @dangerousluv1 @missalienqueen @coffeeaddictedmay @nxynxy @tansyfleurwhisper @insane-without-delirium @ravenkake @thoretical-theo @overzealous-imagination @delightfulartisancolorauthor @multifixx @emomochi

#The Drummer #Katsuki Bakugo #Bakugo Katsuki #Bakugo Katsuki x Fem Reader #Bakugo x Reader #Bakugo x Y/N #Drummer Bakugo #My Hero Academia #Boku No Hero Academia #MHA #My Hero Fanfic #Boku No Hero Fanfic #Bakugo Fanfic #Reader Insert #SMAU but written

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anna-pixie · 4 years

Text

safe passage -> the witcher {part one}

This is going to be quite a long series - hopefully! Let me know if you’d like more parts :)

Summary: Your parents have married you off to the prince of a far away town, but to get there you need to pass through some trecherous lands. Your father hires a Witcher and his bard to assure your safe passage. When feelings get involved, what could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: None

“The next time I see you, you’ll be a proper woman.” Your mother blubbers, grasping one of your hands in her own as she cries. You pull yourself from her gasp with a roll of your eyes, still sour due to the fact they were pawning you off for their own gain.

“That’s if I ever do see you again. Who’s to say he won’t keep me locked in that tower of his forever?” Your voice is sharp as you spit the words, turning away from your parents sorrowful gazes and heading towards the carriage waiting for you.

Your wrist is snatched quickly and you’re turned back, your father's eyes glaring into your own, “You’d best hope this attitude is fixed by the time you reach your new home. A month on the road should be plenty of time for you to really understand why we did this. We’ve paid the Witcher his coin already, he is waiting in the carriage and will assure your safe passage to Vizima.”

“I hope he lets me die on the way there.” Are the parting words you utter to your father, who releases your arm with a resigned huff. You pick up the bottom of your pink gown as you step into the spacious black carriage, not bothering to glance at the man who already resides in there.

Your mother waves at you once more, whilst your father signals to the rider that it is time to leave, and the carriage rolls on slowly as you leave your life behind. Tears prick your eyes and you sigh sadly, finally looking forwards at the hulking man sat across from you, a smaller man that you hadn’t even noticed sat next to him.

You had never seen a Witcher before in person, but their reputation precedes them - this one in particular. You’ve heard of the inhumanly large man, with hair the colour of pure silver and eyes like a cat - but it is the wolf pendant hanging around his neck that really tips you off. You’re sitting in a carriage with the white wolf himself. Geralt of Rivia, or as he is more commonly referred to, the Butcher of Blavikken.

And, oh, the stories must have failed to mention that he may be the most attractive man on the continent. He observes you with his bright eyes, his chiseled jaw clenched as his fingers tap against his large thigh.

“I’m Jaskier, you must be Princess Y/N!” The smaller man greets you, a wide smile on his mouth as he extends his hand towards you. Although your aim was to not get along with your carers, to anger them until they left you to die in the forest, you can’t help but smile warmly at the man in a blue ensemble, shaking his hand gently.

“It’s a pleasure, Jaskier. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

The man furrows his brows at you, “Better circumstances? We’re delivering you to your new husband! A prince! Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“I should. It’s a princesses duty to accept her husband with happiness no matter if it is her choice to do so.” You reply, a tight smile on your face as Jaskier takes in your words. Your eyes travel to the man next to him who has remained silent, his yellow gaze fixed on you, unnervingly so.

Your body heats and you squirm a little, looking out of the window to escape his suffocating gaze.

“Is that why you hope for me to let you perish on our journey?” The butcher speaks, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. Your breath catches in your throat at the sound of it, it’s so raw, so dark and masculine. You’ve never heard anything like it.

“Oh, you heard that.” A blush coats your cheeks, and the younger man begins laughing while the white wolf merely continues gazing at you.

The corner of his lip quirks up ever so slightly, “Your father paid us a hefty sum, with even more promised once we deliver you to his highness. Forgive me, princess, but I cannot let you perish, even if that may be your wish.”

“Perhaps I will just have to outsmart you then, run away.” You jest, although a wry smile coats your mouth as you realise you will never be able to outrun a Witcher, there is really no point even bothering.

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

The next few hours is spent with Jaskier trying to get to know you, and by the time you’ve stopped to set up camp for the night you feel as though you’ve been well and utterly interrogated.

“And then as I was jumping out of the tower, the needle caught on my leg, went all the way through.” Jaskier’s face is pale, and you smirk as you show him the scar on your shin, letting this be your revenge for his incessant questions.

“Forget I even asked.” He pretends to gag, leaving you giggling to yourself while he exits the carriage.

“Impressive, you’ve shut the bard up for a while.” Geralt comments whilst returning to help you climb out of the carriage. You take his hand and jump, gulping when his other hand rests on the back of your waist, steadying you.

“I have two younger brothers, I’m quite well versed in how to deal with an annoyance.”

“Hmm,” He observes you, his hand lingering for a moment, “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“I’ve never been this far out of the city before.” You think outloud as you gaze around the tranquil clearing, watching Jaskier drink from an almost too-blue lake. The unnamed carriage driver slumps against a tree, a hood covering his head while he takes a nap. There is a calming breeze in the air, the thin tree branches swaying and rustling, “It’s so peaceful.”

“Don’t get fooled into a false sense of security. There is a reason you were never allowed out of the city, monsters lurk everywhere, even in the most tranquil places.” Geralt’s eyes dart around while he speaks, like he has just reminded himself that he needs to check for potential dangers.

You observe him as his nose scrunches ever so slightly. Is he trying to sniff out the monsters?

“Witcher’s have increased senses,” Jaskier speaks, startling you as he appears beside you silently, “Smell, taste, hearing, you name it he’s got it.”

“That’s amazing.” You’re awestruck as you watch him slink around the nearby trees, hopefully determining that this is a good enough place to spend the night.

“I tend to forget that one too many times, run my mouth when Geralt annoys me not realising he can hear everything I’m saying.”

“Well, if we need to run our mouths during this month we’ll make sure to do so far away.” You joke, sending a joking glance towards the laughing bard. Your head snaps forward when you hear a low chuckle, and you realise with a groan that Geralt had been listening in on your conversation.

“See what I mean?” Jaskier rolls his eyes, heading to grab the tents from the back of the carriage when Geralt gives him an approving nod.

You lounge back, leaning on a thick tree bark whilst the two men construct the tent, under the shade of two large trees. You look over to the carriage driver, still asleep under the tree adjacent to your own. You don’t know the man, your usual driver remained in the city, continuing to serve your parents whilst they hired a replacement to take you to your new husband.

Your eyes catch the end of a scar peeking out of his black sleeve and your brows furrow as you look at it, your gaze travelling back up again expecting to see the driver sleeping peacefully, but you instead catch his dark gaze peering back at you.

A smile crawls up his lips but before you can dwell on it too much, your attention is stolen by Geralt who places a large hand on your shoulder. You can’t help but shiver at the feeling of his warm skin through your thin dress, looking up at him with a curious gaze.

“We have two tents. Jaskier, the driver and myself will take one - apparently it’s not … “lady-like” for you to lay with men you’re not betrothed to.” His tone is sardonic, clearly not agreeing with the strange marital traditions of upper society.

“Thank you, Geralt.” You smile at him, shuffling behind him as he leads you to the small white tent in which you’ll be sleeping.

You’re on your knees, about to crawl into the tent when Geralt’s voice stops you once more, “We won’t spend every night on the floor, princess, we’ll take some care to stop at inns. Your fathers request.”

“Oh how lovely of him to ensure I have a comfortable place to lie whilst I wait to be sold off like a prized pig.” You mutter quietly, turning away from Geralt before you can catch the way his stoic face drops for a moment as he gazes at your retreating figure.

You decline Jaskier’s invitation for you to join them in eating that evening, you’d been thrown a leaving banquet the night before and still felt stuffed. You can hear the low chatter of the men whilst you toss and turn, waiting for sleep to overtake you.

Slowly falling into a slumber, you can just about make out the shadow of a man standing outside of your tent, unmoving as they seem to just stare at you. In your drowsy state, you don’t think twice about this, simply groaning to yourself before falling into a restless sleep.

#geralt x reader #geralt x oc #geralt x you #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x oc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia #geralt x ofc #the witcher #the witcher imagine #witcher imagine

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

It Happened On Sakaar Pt. 2

Mando x F!Reader; Loki x F!Reader

Rating: M; 18+ Only

Warnings: swearing, grieving, angst, slow burn, mentions of violence (smut in later chapters)

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: The bounty hunter’s most recent puck sends him across the Galaxy to an unfamiliar and artificial planet named Sakaar- literally the galaxy’s trash can. Sakaar is a bizarre planet, but so is his most recent bounty. Din is chasing a man he only knows as The God of Mischief. The reader lives on Sakaar as a scrapper, a similar trade to that of a bounty hunter and has a tangled history with the man Mando is looking for. Will the unlikely duo team up to capture the mischievous Asgardian or will the reader fall victim to Loki’s promises?

A/N:

IMPORTANT UPDATE

I made a Google form to be added to my taglists, so if you want to be added, the link is in my bio. I’ll only be adding people to the list if they requested to be added by filling out the form! This way all of the requests are just in one place so I don’t miss requests! Thank you!!!

This is unedited and if I missed anything that I should include as a warning please let me know! Thank you y’all!

Part One

Tags and Requests are OPEN

You had just gotten paid another hefty sum for brining a new fighter to the Grandmaster, not as good as the supposed Lord of Thunder Scrapper 142 caught but still nonetheless, he was pleased and you were more than satisfied with your payment. You were at a bar, feeling pretty good about yourself. You deserved it and you wanted to treat yourself to a drink. You sat on one of the barstools, nursing a drink and did your best to ignore the gladiators behind the barrier nearby. You weren’t looking forward to this upcoming fight, but then again, you didn’t particularly care about them in the first place anyways. Scrapper 142 joined you, opting for a bottle instead of a glass.

You understood her. It was an unspoken feeling you knew she also understood. You were similar people, and on this planet to escape your past. She had been here much longer than yourself, and you observe that nothing can penetrate her hard shell. She was invincible, and you envied her ability to keep her emotions at bay. Well, except for the drinking, but you still admired her. At some point she went over to the barrier and actually spoke to one of the gladiators. It was odd, but you didn’t question it. When she got up, you bid your goodbyes and headed to get ready for the fight. You knew you wouldn’t see her at the arena, but you know she wouldn’t take it personally that you left without a goodbye.

Walking down the hallway towards the entrance, an arm grabbed your bicep and pulled you down an empty hallway. Without hesitation, you pulled your blaster with your free hand and pushed it to the temple of whoever grabbed you. When it made a clinking noise, you sighed, knowing exactly who it was. “Mando,” you say curtly, yanking your arm free and turning to face him.

“I need you to tell me about the God of Mischief,” he states plainly.

“I thought you were a good bounty hunter,” you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t get any information, I’m working with nothing,” he explains. You stare up at the visor, like somehow, you’d be able to study his eyes. You can feel them staring back at you though.

“How is this my problem?” You scoff and he sighs, clearly getting frustrated.

“You’re the only person I know on this planet that can help me,” he tries to insist, “I’ll split the reward, please.”

“I’ll tell you what I know,” you say defeated. You felt bad for the man, and you knew it must’ve been hard for him to come to you. “But I’m not helping you hunt him down. I don’t want to be close to this.”

“Deal,” he says, and offers out his gloved hand for you to shake.

“We can’t talk here,” you state, “the fight is going to start soon and I need to be in attendance for a work thing.”

“A work thing?” he taunts. You chuckle.

“Unless you want to join me,” you offer, “If you can get a babysitter.”

“Fine,” he says, following your lead. You walk in silence to the stands, and you find your regular seat, and he takes the one next to you. You chuckle at how out of place he looks, too bulky from the armor to fit comfortably.

“Do you always need to wear all this?” you ask him, gesturing to the armor.

“Yes, it’s part of my code,” he replies, looking down at the arena. “Now, the bounty.”

“He’s one of the two princes from my home planet,” you explain. “He’s actually a god, with powers.”

“Powers?”

“Yeah, astral projection, shape-shifting, hypnosis, telekinesis, teleportation…”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you say with a chuckle at the shock in his voice.

“How the hell are you supposed to catch someone like that?” he sighs, leaning back in his seat more.

“Outsmart him. Take advantage of the fact he probably has no idea you’re here or that anyone would be after him.”

“Would anyone be after him?”

“Oh gods, he’s made enemies all over the galaxy,” you retort, “I have no idea how to determine who sent you. He has a laundry list of enemies.”

“Of course,” he grumbles. “Just in recent years, he sabotaged his own brother’s coronation by allowing the Frost Giants to attack Asgard- our planet. Then, skipping a lot of other chaos, he led an alien attack on Earth. He was supposed to face lifetime imprisonment in the Asgardian dungeons, but he was freed to help fight when Dark Elves attacked Asgard, and he faked his death. This brings us up to speed to when I left three years ago. With everyone thinking he was dead, he returned to Asgard and removed his father, Odin, from the throne and had been ruling Asgard disguised as Odin. He was doing so for several years, before Thor- that’s his brother; Thor came back and exposed him. So that’s when I left, so if he’s done something else since, I don’t know.”

“That was the summary?”

“That was the very abridged version,” you chuckle, “but that’s sort of the relevant bit.”

“Why did you leave?” he asks curiously, “it seems like him being exposed by Thor was a good thing but you left.”

“Because I mourned him for years,” you say spitefully. “Told me himself while disguised as Odin that Loki was dead. Lied right to me, deceived me and the entire kingdom. We built fucking statues in his honor like idiots…”

“You loved him,” he states simply, preventing you from spiraling. You appreciated his ability to simplify the situation. It was grounding.

“Yes,” you say simply.

“And you’ve been here for three years and he only just shows up now?”

“Yeah.”

“Asshole,” he mutters, making you laugh.

“Indeed,” you agree.

“You deserve better,” he affirms.

“Then a wanted war criminal? I would hope so,” you jest.

“No, I mean, yes, but you seem- just, never mind.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” he asks, after a short, uncomfortable silence.

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you answer honestly.

“I understand,” he says, but he sounds like he’s far away, lost in his own thoughts. You both fall into a more comfortable silence, when the giant hologram of the Grandmaster emerges introducing the event and the fighters. You aren’t really paying attention; you have heard it all before. The Champion will come out, the crowd will go crazy, and he’ll just defeat whatever poor soul they put up against him. However, you are snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a familiar voice yell.

“Thor?” you say in disbelief, standing up from your seat to get a closer look. His hair was shorter but without a doubt it was him. “Shit, what happened to him?”

“Thor, like Loki’s brother?” Mando asks, staring down at the fight, both of you at the end of your seats. You look over across the stadium, and you see a familiar figure in the Grandmaster’s private box.

“That weasel,” you say, narrowing your eyes, to try to get a better look. It’s him. Without a doubt, it’s Loki sitting on the large couch next to the Grandmaster. “He’s right there,” you point, and Mando follows your gaze.

“He’s watching while they send his brother to slaughter,” Mando observes and you nod.

“I thought I couldn’t be more disgusted,” you scoff. You wanted to be surprised but how could you be? This was Loki. Gods, you had been so blind for so long.

“What can we do?” Mando asks, already trying to look around for the exit. There are way too many people.

“Thor has powers like Loki- not the same ones, but he’s also a god,” you say, partly to explain but also in an attempt to calm your own nerves. “He can win this.” You hear Thor proclaim that he knows the Champion and that they are friends from work, and you cover your face with your hands from the secondhand embarrassment. You silently plead for Thor to stop trying to talk and just fight his way out. Mando hesitantly wraps an arm around you. He’s stiff and awkward but you appreciate it regardless. It was comforting. “I can’t watch,” you say, hiding your face in his shoulder.

Mando had never experienced something like this, ever. He hadn’t touched someone for this long in a very, very long time. He knew the circumstances were terrible and his heart was breaking for you. But selfishly, he basked in the feeling of intimacy, even if it was strictly platonic. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if it was platonic, because that implies a friendship. His mind was racing and he tried to ignore the warm feeling spreading throughout his body at the contact. He doesn’t dare move; he was enjoying the feeling too much. Mando was rendered speechless as he watched the man literally conjure lightning from nothing. The fight was unlike anything he had ever seen. Of course, he’d been all over the galaxy and has seen wonders, including the little baby back in his room, but never has he seen so much power yielded all at once. He gulped, thinking about what he would be up against trying to bring in Loki. Without a doubt, he’d need to use the carbonite chamber on the Crest- but would that even hold a being of this much power? He didn’t have much else of a choice.

The crowd erupts, booing as the Grandmaster rigs the fight in the Champion’s favor, and Mando rolls his eyes under his helmet. Of course, he thinks. However, he can tell the man is still alive and is relieved to tell you, especially since you didn’t dare look at the spectacle- too afraid to watch the fate of your friend unfold. “He made it,” Mando said gently, nudging you and you finally turned your head back to the arena. They brought out a stretcher and the floating device brought his body off of the ground. He was breathing. “We can find out where they took him soon,” he says reassuringly. He felt compelled to help you find Thor, not just because of his own needs, but he genuinely wanted to return the favor for the intel you provided- at no charge at that. The crowds clear out in a somewhat orderly fashion, but then take to the streets to celebrate the Grandmaster’s Champion.

You are furious that Loki would sit by and watch as Thor was sent out on that field. You had no doubt in your mind that he knew that was happening but didn’t stop it. You knew him too well to think otherwise. Part of you a very long time ago had a hope the two could actually work as a team, and you had seen Thor try- you realize that now. However, at the time, you always defended Loki. You remain seated, even after the whole section of seats has long since been cleared. You felt numb and disgusted.

“Any way I can help you, I’ll do it,” you say finally, your eyes fixated on the crater that was formed by the fight. You were rigid, very much pissed. You had wasted a large portion of your first year here hoping he’d come after you, and as much as you’d say you wouldn’t have taken him back, you know that you three years ago would have fallen back into his arms in a heartbeat if he had tried to come find you. Skurge knew where you had been sent. Loki could have easily gotten that information and followed you if he had wanted to. He obviously didn’t. And you have already wasted more energy than you should’ve in your lifetime by his side, defending him, mourning him, loving him. You were done. If there was any doubt of that in your mind before, the display before you tonight solidified your feelings.

You wanted to see him get what he deserved.

“I need you to get close to him again,” Mando says hesitantly, and you can hear the reluctance. He knows he’s asking way too much from you, but he’s desperate. It’s the only way he can think of to out smart him. He cringes, not wanting to subject you to this character again, but he feels as though he doesn’t have a choice. You were right that Mando needed to take advantage of Loki not knowing he was here. He could operate behind the scenes while you distracted him. It was a flimsy plan at best and he was sure you would say no. He wouldn’t blame you. He saw the hurt and pain on your face, just out for the world to see. You were usually much better at hiding it, he had observed, but the events of today undeniably bothered you greatly. He felt relieved to have his helmet on. He couldn’t imagine the discipline of controlling your expressions. It was something he never needed to master, and he admired your ability to do it.

“I’ll do it,” you sniff looking back at him. Your eyes were glossed over with tears that you were not letting fall and you still held yourself with your head high. You were trying your best to not let your emotions spill over, and he marveled at your strength.

“You sure.”

“Positive. I can do it. Besides, I don’t know how you’d do it without me.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles.

“I always am,” you joke. You wipe your eyes and stand up, both of you heading out of the stadium. “It’s probably better if we try to find Thor tomorrow,” you conclude noticing how dark it is now. Mando nods in agreement.

“Are they immortal?” he asks hesitantly, wanting to talk to you longer.

“No but we live a long time,” you say with a sigh, “Very slow aging process as well.”

“How old are they?” he asks, “I mean- do you not age either?”

“Loki and I are similar in age, Thor is older,” you explain. “I mean, I don’t know an exact age in years, but at least a thousand? Thor probably about five hundred years older or so if I had to guess.”

“Are- are you serious?” he asks in disbelief.

“I’m an old maid,” you chuckle.

“You look younger than me,” he says, still in shock.

“Asgardians have a five-thousand-year lifespan roughly,” you giggle, finding it amusing you’ve made the bounty hunter speechless. “I know I look pretty good for my age,” you joke.

“Yeah,” he says in agreement, and he doesn’t miss the way it makes you smile. There’s a tension between the two of you that becomes glaringly more obvious, and you both chose to try your best to ignore it.

“So, what are you?” you ask. “You and your son- what species?”

“I’m human,” he says quickly, embarrassed at what you thought he must look like under the helmet. “He’s adopted,” he explains, and you laugh at how flustered he sounds through the modulator.

“Are you from Earth?”

“No, I was born on Aq Vetina,” he explains and you nod.

“I’ve never heard of Earth.” “I thought Earth was the only place humans dwelled,” you say intrigued, “Interesting.”

“Are you royalty?” he asks, trying to change the subject from his backstory.

“Almost was,” you admit, “but no. I was in the Einherjar army, warriors who protected the throne.”

“Almost?” he asks, not wanting to pry but his curiosity of wanting to get to know more about you getting the better of him.

“Loki and I at one point were engaged,” you say, facing the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I shouldn’t be asking.”

“No, it’s okay,” you say reassuringly, “It’s nice to talk about it after all these years. I’m enjoying having someone who’s willing to listen.” He wondered if that would be something he would want as well. “Then he faked his death, and well,” you joke, “I would say that is the most unique way I’ve heard of to break off an engagement.”

“I don’t think that was because of you…”

“Oh, I know,” you reassure him, “But it clearly showed me how little he actually cared for me.”

“He’s a fool,” he said quickly.

“I’m afraid I’m the one who deserves that title,” you jest, trying to make the atmosphere less depressing.

“I don’t think so,” he counters, but doesn’t expand on his statement. You nod as a silent thank you. “I need to get back to the kid,” he says, “Should I meet you tomorrow?”

“Where are you staying?” You say, “I’ll come to you. I’m too close to the Grandmaster, and then by extension Loki- me going to you keeps you off the radar longer.”

He gives you the name of where he’s staying and his room, actually trusting you with it. You immediately know where he is staying and you assure him you won’t have any trouble finding him. You insist you want to go find Thor alone and he respects your request. You promise to go to him after. You part ways, and you return to your apartment and him to his room.

With the secured behind him, he picks up the child and checks on him. He felt guilty for having left him so long, but the kid had only just woken up when Mando arrived back at the room. The child was babbling and happy, and Mando fed him. His mind is still racing with thoughts of you, and how much you’ve been though.

It almost angers him, the way that you’ve been treated and discarded. Like you were just a pawn in a chess game. The pain and sadness behind your eyes said more to him than your words had, even though he hung on to every syllable. He feels ridiculous, but part of him thinks about how he can be the one to change it. He can be the one to give you justice, by catching the man as he was sent here to do. And maybe somewhere also in the back of his mind he thinks about being the one who can truly make you happy.

The rapport between the two of you was so seamless. He never had such an easy time talking to someone before. It’s like you just showed up out of nowhere and fell into his life and he wants you to stay in it. He thinks about if you both are successful, he somehow by some miracle is able to catch this guy, would he just part ways with you and never see you again? He hates the idea already. He knows how irrational he is being, but he allows himself to indulge in the idea of sharing things with you the same way you opened up about your past to him. He thinks about your words about how good it felt to have someone to listen, and he thinks about the urge he has to tell you everything. He thinks about finishing this job and getting off this wasteland planet and taking you away with him. He knows it would never happen. You are the closest thing he could ever encounter to a deity, and there’s no reason for you to want him.

With the child tired out yet again, Mando closes his pod when the baby is asleep and he is now free to take off his helmet. There’s a mirror on the wall and he looks at his reflection. He sees the signs of aging on his face, something you won’t experience until long after his lifetime. You’re the most beautiful being he’s ever encountered and here he is thinking you would return the affection he has begun to feel towards you. He doesn’t believe you’re someone who cares too much about appearances, but you are used to walking among ethereal beings. He knew he would not be good enough. Maybe he had been alone too long and his mind is playing tricks on him, but he can’t forget the way he made you smile. He clung onto it and took pride in it, desperately wanting to be the cause of your smile again.

Taglist:

@msclifford @doctoreuphoria @gloryekaterina @sassy-kassaay

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 12)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 2731 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I know some of you may not have been happy about what happened in the last chapter and I expect that not to change here 🙈🙈

PART 11 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

It feels a little intimidating to be walking into an unfamiliar place. You and Billy decided to meet at a restaurant somewhat in between your apartments, although the commute straight from the hospital made the distance a little bit farther.

Even worse you were running late thanks to a last minute case that needed your attention. Billy understood and you hoped he believed you when you said you were still on your way. You were nervous and excited at the same time, not having been on a date in… well, you really don’t want to think about exactly how long.

It’s pretty crowded, not that you expected anything less for a Friday evening. You scan through all the faces that seemed to blend together in the dim lighting against the wall as you look for Billy. The long bar near the entryway is much brighter, with lighted holiday garland still up surrounding the shelves of liquor.

At the end of the bar you spot him and Billy’s dark eyes illuminate the moment he sees you. He stands up to greet you as you approach, and you both do an awkward dance of wondering if you should hug each other or not. You went for it anyway, your heart beating a little faster as his arm wrapped around your back, squeezing you just a little.

“I’m glad you made it,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. The slight rasp in his soft voice made a tingle run down your spine in the best way.

Texting him had been a lot easier, when you only recalled his good looks by memory, without the pressure of staring back at his handsome face. Billy gently placed his hand against your back as he guided you towards the host. You were seated in the back, hopefully far enough away from the crowds huddled around the TV near the bar showing tonight’s basketball game.

Sitting across from Billy you couldn’t help but feel awkward under his focused gaze. Your cheeks began to heat up and you’ve never been more thankful for a server to appear. You ordered a drink, hoping it would arrive soon enough to help you over the hurdle of your awkwardness and shed the first date jitters.

A thunderous cheer from the bar startled you, making you cringe internally for nearly jumping in your seat but the sound of Billy’s sweet laughter eased your worries. Your minor embarrassment allowed for the conversation to flow freely, and over much better food than you expected this bar to have, you and Billy got to know each other better.

His company ANVIL provided private security and tactical training seminars. What stuck with you most was how all of his employees were veterans.

“It changes you.” He spoke about war, each word a poignant reminder that he too has battle scars, both visible and not. “A lot of us felt lost comin’ home. We can’t pretend we fit back into a world when the puzzle’s changed on us. This is my way of helpin’ my brothers find their place again.”

Sighing softly, it felt like your heart doubled in size as you listened to him, believing in all the good he was doing for those that needed purpose again. Your hand reached out across the table towards Billy’s, gently rubbing your thumb along his skin as your palm covered his knuckles. It made you second guess if his smooth skin is about grooming or if he’s erasing every hardened memory of his past, softening his skin to soothe the trauma of his mind.

You felt a connection with Billy because of this, finding commonality in your work. Even though ANVIL is in security, it still provides a therapeutic environment to its employees. You opened up to share your own background and why social work is so important to you.

“I have seven months to go until I graduate and I honestly can’t wait. It’s been such a long journey to get to this point but everything will be worth it. To be the person that can make a difference in someone’s life, to stand up for them, help and protect them; it really means so much to me.”

Billy is quiet for a moment, meditating on his thoughts. His mouth opens but he chooses not to speak, offering a gentle smile instead. There’s a silent understanding that he isn’t ready to continue talking. It’s a heavy subject and certainly not the best first date material, but somehow everything felt right.

He paid for everything despite your offering to split the bill, lacing his fingers with yours as he walked with you a few blocks to the subway station. Even though it was Friday, you were exhausted and really needed to go home and crash.

Under the glow of a street lamp you kissed Billy goodnight, feeling a rush of excitement warming your body as you craved more of the softness of his lips. His hand came against your cheek as he parted your lips with his tongue.

Your knees buckled under the caress of his tongue against yours and Billy felt the way your body wanted to melt against his. His hands wrapped around your waist as he continued to steal the breath from your lungs.

It may be cold outside but right now all you can feel is the heat simmering in your bones. The longer Billy kisses you the more you want to let him, your core aching with desire, begging you to take him home.

A soft bubble erupts in the back of your throat and you pull away breathless. Pressing your kiss swollen lips together you smile at Billy, seeing his pink dusted cheeks that could have been from the cold but the lustful gleam in his eyes say otherwise.

It’s very tempting to give in to what you want but common sense gets the win for the night. You part, promising to speak again tomorrow and honestly, you couldn’t wait.

“Earth to Y/N! Hello!” Wanda waved her hand in front of your face that had been glued to your phone all night, accompanied by the smile that would not fade.

“S-sorry, sorry. You were saying?”

Wanda huffed, rolling her eyes as she continued her conversation, asking everybody their opinions on her plans for Valentine’s Day with Sam.

“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Peggy replied, snuggling a little closer to Steve as she thought of the plans they’ll be sharing.

Natasha was quiet, taking a sip from her drink as she observed you curiously. You were trying desperately to not touch your phone, though your eyes couldn’t help but dart towards the screen that lit up every few minutes.

It was odd considering Bucky was seated beside you, his phone nowhere in sight as he propped his elbows against the table, hand curled lazily around his beer. She had caught a glimpse of your shared kiss on New Year’s Eve, pointing Clint in your direction as well so they could share in the satisfaction of being right.

From the moment you no longer wanted to kill Bucky they had been taking bets on how long it would take for you to hook up. Clint had bet by Halloween but Natasha knew it would take longer. Although now she’s unsure if she truly won the bet. You and Bucky kissed of course but nothing else suggests you had gone further; and by the ever growing smile on your face as you ignore everyone including Bucky, she has a strong suspicion of what may have derailed her chance of winning.

“Y/N, for Valentine’s Day do you have plans with your mystery texter?” Natasha asked, silencing the entire table.

A grin spread across her face as your eyes began to widen. You were caught. Not that you had done anything at all to hide it.

Wanda’s mouth fell open. “Could it be?!”

“Details, now!” Steve practically commanded. Feeling like the honorary older brother in your life he absolutely needed to know who was causing you to act as giddy as you were.

“Okay, okay!” you laughed, holding your palms up as if you were caught red handed. Trying to control your smile, you took a deep breath before telling everyone about how you met Billy. “We’ve gone out a few times and he’s really sweet. I can’t wait for you guys to meet him!”

While almost everyone said they couldn’t wait Natasha noticed the way Bucky turned a little paler, grumbling the words under his breath before he washed them away with a hefty swig. She cocked her eyebrow at Clint, sharing an unspoken look they would definitely be discussing when they were alone.

Your stomach was churning and not because of the bloody glimpse you passed in the ER during your hours at the hospital. Tonight the entire group was getting together and they were going to meet Billy.

The thought had you shaking though you’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Billy has been a total sweetheart and you’re certain your friends will like him. It had been a few weeks since you first met and you had kept your dates mostly secret, not wanting to tell anyone until you were sure this was something worth speaking about.

Most of the dates have been low-key, meeting up at The Grind House or grabbing a quick bite to eat after work. Both of your schedules were pretty busy and you didn’t envy the fact that Billy ran an entire company. Only once did he have to cancel at the last minute; things came up and you completely understood. What you did not expect was a beautiful bouquet of flowers delivered to you at the hospital as an apology.

As you were getting ready you got a text from Billy saying he would meet you at the bowling lounge you were all going to since he was still working and it would be faster to head there directly. This only added to your nerves, having to wait just a little longer before Billy met everyone as opposed to breaking the ice with Bucky, Natasha and Clint on the way there as you imagined.

The moment you were hoping he could bowl well was when you decided you needed to stop overthinking everything and relax. Your friends will like Billy regardless of little things; as long as he treated you well, and he did, was all that mattered.

The subway was crowded, with bodies cramped even closer together to avoid the spilled drink right in front of the door. You were pressed against Bucky’s chest which you didn’t mind at all considering it could have been worse given the other passengers surrounding you. He was on alert as a man got on the next stop, with foam nearly frozen down his mouth and chin, mumbling loudly as he paced back and forth through the spill.

Bucky shifted his position so you were mostly behind him, although he was still turned to the side to keep his eye out just in case. You appreciated the gesture, smiling softly in silent thanks, taking note of the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t mentioned the latest project he was working on but you assumed it’s something that’s kept him up.

The brisk air moves right through you as you ascend the steps to the street, walking quickly past the large scattering of tourists that lazily stop along 42nd Street to take pictures despite the freezing cold. Thankfully you only had a few blocks to walk.

Steve and Peggy were waiting inside the lobby, informing you Wanda and Sam should be there shortly. You saw the text she had sent to everyone, skimming over it to text Billy and let him know you arrived. The nerves came back in full force as you saw the three dots appear as he was typing.

What if he couldn’t make it? What if he had to stay late at work? What if he just didn’t want to see you? What if this was some elaborate joke and you were tricked into believing somebody could actually like you?

Worrisome thoughts ran through your mind until Billy’s response came through. There was some relief knowing he was two blocks away, but the nerves still stayed, hoping your friends would like him and do their best not to embarrass you.

“On your left,” a voice called out, and Steve turned around to see Sam, smiling beside a bundled up Wanda as they greeted each other. Apparently this was some inside joke no one else but them understood.

“When did it get so cold?” Wanda asked rhetorically, blowing out puffs of cold air as she loosened the scarf from around her neck. She greeted everyone, realizing all but one person was there. Just as she was going to ask about Billy he stepped through the door.

A wide smile spread across his face as he spotted you. His lean legs carried him towards you in long strides, cold lips and even colder skin pressing against your own as he greeted you with an affectionate kiss in front of your friends. Their middle school teasing of “oohs” broke the kiss, though your hand stayed cupped against his face, bringing warmth to his rose colored cheeks.

Bucky rolled his eyes at the display, a stranger in his mind, claiming his possession over you without a word spoken. Who does Billy think he is anyway? It’s practically below zero and he isn’t even wearing a hat. Pretty boy doesn’t want to ruin his hair, clearly. Bucky realized he was wearing his inner thoughts of disgust on his face, and quickly shook it off; yet the feeling of dislike for Billy hadn’t gone away as quickly.

Billy introduced himself to everyone as you stood beside him, unable to stop staring at how gorgeous he looked in a simple sweater and dark jeans. These were his colors, dark tones that matched his cavernous eyes, contrasting against the light skin of his perfect face.

From the corner of his eye Bucky couldn’t help but notice the way Billy’s hands were all over you, rubbing your back as you all waited for the employee to assign your lane, to the slip of his hand in the back pocket of your jeans.

His jaw clenched, anger rising in him for reasons he couldn’t quite understand but the moment he saw your face he let go of his tension with ease. You looked so happy, from the twinkle in your eyes to the smile you couldn’t contain. If you were happy Bucky was happy for you, even if he didn’t like it.

Two teams were chosen as you settled in to play, with Sam and Steve being the captains of each. Sam of course picked Wanda, along with Natasha and Clint while Steve chose Peggy first, with you, Billy and Bucky rounding out the rest of his team.

“I did it!” You jumped in surprise as you got a strike, by sheer luck since your first few turns made you wish the bumpers were inflated.

“That’s my girl,” Billy said smiling, cocking his head as he waited for you to come back to the bench.

Bucky was up next. Grabbing the swirly blue ball, he released it with a vigorous throw, not bothering at all to really aim. He took a few pins down, and waited for the ball to come back by the machine. Somehow throwing a heavy object at other objects made everything feel a little better but the sight of you making out with Billy crushed any attempts at his spirit feeling renewed.

During the games drinks and food were ordered and you were happy because it seemed like everyone was getting along with Billy. After two games Sam’s team ended up with the higher scores, and he absolutely rubbed it in Steve’s face.

“My shift is early tomorrow so I’m gonna head out,” Sam said, getting up from the table.

It wasn’t terribly late but considering how cold it was no one else really wanted to stay out to do anything. Bucky shrugged on his coat, watching Billy lean in to whisper something in your ear that made your lips pull into a smirk. As you said goodnight to everyone Bucky realized you wouldn’t be joining him, Natasha and Clint home.

PART 13

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #billy russo x reader

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psychewithwings · 3 years

Text

Let Them Watch: Shika NSFW

The most illegal thing I’ve written so far... oh boi

NSFW 18+ : Nasty talk, vulgar speech from third parties, degradation, exhibitionism, breeding, jealousy, revenge fuck, arranged marriage, dub con????? just because the situation is forced.

Alt. Un. Very inspired by the fact that when 1700s royals were married people would watch them have sex on their wedding night so they knew the marriage was consummated.

“I loath you,” you muttered under your breath to Shikamaru. You stood next to Shikamaru at the alter. Your whalebone corset was digging into the flesh of your waist, making this situation, if possible, even more uncomfortable. “Well don’t think I’m happy about this either, it’s a fucking drag.” You rolled your eyes and smoothed the large skirt of your wedding gown. The leader of the ceremony droned on and on, reading the fine print of the agreement. You could feel the eyes of all the observers boring into your back. The royalty from the Land of Fire, the elders, and of course, the Feudal Lord himself, had all come to oversee this arrangement. “You think I asked for this? This is the last thing I wanted,” he added. Your eyes narrowed, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you hissed. “Hey, I thought you loathed me, why does it matter what I mean?” You hated how he always made a point that was difficult to argue. “I’m just saying, you could do worse than me… the last thing… tch-” He chuckled under his breath, as he raised his arm, winding an elaborate gold ribbon around it. He then clasped your hand and wound the ribbon down and around your arm, tying you to him forever. His grip was tight and he pulled the ribbon, causing it to rub and somewhat burn on the flesh of your arm. “It doesn’t matter, we weren’t given a choice.”

Shikamaru had a point there, you weren’t given a choice. You were only told about this union two weeks ago. Your clan informed you that due to your unique abilities, the Feudal Lord had paid a hefty sum to have you married off to the most intelligent man in the village. As soon as you’d heard that, you’d known it was Shikamaru. Shikamaru had been a nuisance since you were classmates with him in the academy. He was always slacking off and being lazy, but he got away with it because he was smart enough. While you were intelligent, you still needed to train heavily to maintain your maximum power levels. Shikamaru excelled without having to put in any effort at all, in fact he slept through most training sessions. It was infuriating to watch, not to mention, he was always calling you a “troublesome woman” because you actually wanted to work hard.

Every mission you ever went on with him, since your days at the academy, was strangely fluid, (even though the slacker had managed to become your boss practically). They were filled with good conversation and even better team work. You were assigned together, just the two of you often enough. You made a very powerful duo, this was true, but he infuriated you constantly, with little things... Like how he made you feel warm when he was too close, examining a map, and how flustered you felt when he would see your expression, smirk down at you and coyly ask, “what?” He knew what, he was being a tease, always trying to play with your feelings it seemed, because he was bored and intelligent enough to pull it off. He was always doing something to get your attention; brushing his hand against yours before giving a half hearted apology; staring at you from across the room with lustful eyes; calling you pet names just to see you sneer. But then he’d suddenly be calling you “troublesome” and criticizing your strategy plans again, and it was back to arguing. The truth was, you didn’t loath Shikamaru, not at all, it was the fact that he was constantly teasing you with his games of push and pull that made it impossible for you to accept how you really felt… you were crazy about him.

You begrudgingly looped the ribbon around the piece that Shikamaru was holding. “And now, with this knot the union is made, and will now be sealed with a kiss.” You could feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, this kiss would have you spending the rest of your life with him. You turned towards him slowly and were met with that Shika smirk you knew all too well. He was always so cocky. His hands brushed down the sides of your face, softer than you’d expected. He leaned in and his lips brushed against yours as he gently enveloped your bottom lip. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss in response. His fingers gripped your waist and you could feel his nails digging into your flesh even through the corset bodice of the dress. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip before he nipped it softly with his teeth. As he pulled away you stared into his eyes. You were stunned and confused. Your breath fell out of your mouth in shallow pants. Part of it was the constricting bodice of the dress, but the truth was that no one had ever kissed you like that before.

Shikamaru undid the knot and gave the ribbon back to the ceremony leader. He took your hand, admiring the shock on your face. If you only knew how long he had wanted to do that. Maybe it was too much, kissing you like that when you were already stressed about this arranged wedding. But it was about time he told you how he felt. He didn’t have a choice in marrying you, that was all true, it was just his luck that he was betrothed to the girl who had stolen his heart so long ago, that first week at the academy. You were so powerful and yet you worked so hard, it impressed him; he admired you. He often slept in class hoping he’d dream of you, since you detested him for his lack of effort in school. He in turn called you “troublesome woman” not for your fiery temper, but because you were his biggest distraction. But now, as the fates would have it, you were his, though it was a drag that it had to be this way. Shikamaru had hoped to make you his on his own one day and he kicked himself for not making a move sooner.

He lead you down the isle of the ceremony space, the watchful eyes of the spectators following you both. He made sure to keep his grip on your arm gentle, supportive, the way he wanted you to see him. He lead you out the doors and into the corridor to head towards the second part of the ceremony, the feast. Your silence worried him that you were truly miserable with the arrangement and so he moved his hand from your arm to hold your pinkie with his. He was surprised when you moved to interlace the rest of your fingers with his. You paused just before reaching the doors of the great hall. “Shika… I-“ He waited patiently as you gathered your thoughts. “I don’t hate you,” you said and his cheeks flushed. A sly smile crossed his lips and he spun you into his chest, tilted your chin up with the knuckle of his index finger and kissed you again. This time, he didn’t hold back. His tongue delved between your parted lips, just before he grabbed hold of your bottom lip with his teeth and sucked. You whined and pressed your body closer to his. He growled in response and pushed you against the nearest wall. Shikamaru pulled away and leaned against the wall, his arm resting on the ancient stone. “I wanted to do that without the audience, so you’d know I meant it,” his breathing was ragged through his speech. “I- yo-you like me?” your eyes were wide and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He brushed his hand down your arm and held tightly at the elbow, meeting your eyes. “More than you could know,” he said and then turned to hold open the door for you to enter the great hall.

You were confused to say the least, he liked you? Was he playing a cruel joke? You would have thought so for sure, but it was the kiss that had you feeling differently. You watched him closely throughout dinner, and made conversation. You figured, even though you knew him quite well already you should deepen the surface level relationship. You wanted to ask him 1000 questions about how he felt about you but the Feudal Lord was giving a self indulgent toast. “May this couple bear many children and may they grow up to be exceptional ninja for the Konoha…” You rolled your eyes and glanced to see Shikamaru watching your face with concern. “We are just a baby factory to him, aren’t we…” Shikamaru leaned closer to you, “I’m afraid so.” You rolled your head to look at him while the Feudal Lord droned on. “And that massive brain couldn’t think of a way out of this?” You smiled at him finding solace now, in the fact that he was familiar… and being forced into the strange experience. He had hardly let go of your hand since the ceremony, a silent understanding falling between the two of you, and years of buried emotions rising to the surface. “Sadly no, Lord Kakashi informed me that the Feudal Lord threatened to cut all funding from the village if these arranged marriages didn’t take place.” He paused before thoughtfully adding, “I asked him if I could ask you on a date instead, marriage seemed like a lot so fast.” You laughed and sipped your glass of champagne. A date would have been much preferred to the current situation. “Why didn’t you?” you asked. Shikamaru adjusted his posture, clearly he had been waiting for you to ask something like this, although it seemed he still hadn’t found a way to word his answer. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d say yes… I… thought you hated me,” he said it with a smile but you could feel the underlying pain. You widened your eyes in shock,”I thought you hated me!” You both laugh looking at each other, the hatred now boiling down to something else entirely. “Well, tell you what, I’ll agree to the date if you can shut him up,” you gestured to the Feudal Lord with your glass. Shikamaru smirked, “still so feisty, are you this feisty in bed?”

His question caught you off guard and your breath hitched in your throat. You were looking for an answer or clever retort when he added, “cuz’ they’re gonna love that.” “W-what?” the realization dawned on you, “no, wait! I thought that was just a rumor.” Shikamaru glared to where the Feudal Lord continued to ramble on trying to justify his new decree by telling a story about his parent’s incredibly successful arranged marriage. “I thought so too, but Kakashi told me that marriages can be annulled if there is no proof of consummation… they watch for proof… or that’s what they say at least.” Your corset was suddenly too tight, and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. You were stuttering, wracking your brain for the best way out of this. “Listen, there isn’t a way out, but I do have a plan…”

Step One was to try and get Shikamaru as drunk as possible in hopes of whiskey dick. However that plan was foiled quickly due to the lack of alcohol being served in either of your direction. Step One revised was simple enough, encourage everyone else to drink as much as possible, in hopes that they would pass out and there would be less viewers to the spectacle. The dancing ensued and large bottles of champagne were uncorked and devoured. It was strange however, that the Feudal Lord refused glass after glass that was offered to him. He was prepared to see this till the end.

Step two, was to make the act as boring as possible for them. They might force it, but they would not get to enjoy it.

The large bed was elaborate, plated in gold, with floral designs winding up all four posts. A single white fitted sheet was the only linen used to drape the bed. The bed sat on a raised platform, with two entrances on either side, like a stage… it was a stage. You had been given a set of white lingerie to wear. It was a corset, but this one left your breasts exposed, cupping them and pushing them up. A strip of fabric they had the nerve to call underwear was the only thing you wore below the waist. You were dressed, hair fixed, and makeup applied by two ladies in waiting, who were absolutely given strict guidelines by the Feudal Lord. The makeup was minimal, but almost too perfect. It made you look almost unreal, but resembling a doll more so than an ethereal being. You were the star of his sick fantasy. But you wouldn’t be alone Shikamaru would be there too, and you had a plan.

Unfortunately, the plan was failing, while you both had encouraged others to drink, the Feudal Lord must have encouraged them to drink water. The crowd was perfectly rowdy and as you entered onto the platform, hoots and hollers echoed around the large room. The seating was raked, and eyes appeared all around, above and below the platform. You sat timidly on the edge of the bed, doing your best to ignore the grotesque words of a few of the audience members.

“Look at her gorgeous tits.” “Fuck that corset is doing wonders, baby!”

Shikamaru joined you shortly there after, dressed in a pair of tight white shorts. You patted the bed beside you awkwardly. Shikamaru shuffled over and sat down beside you, trying his best to ignore the crowd. You took him in, in his designated ceremony outfit. His muscular thighs were showcased perfectly and his abs were well defined. As you examined his body, he surveyed yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the growing bulge in his pants. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, he was big… fuck. You were already rubbing your thighs together in anticipation, but now was not the time to drool over him. You had to look bored, act bored, disinterested. You sat there awkwardly side by side not sure how to start things off. You swore you could hear the Feudal Lord laughing from his designated seat. He was enjoying your discomfort and the awkwardness of the spectacle.

The jeering from the audience grew louder as the crowd grew impatient, the alcohol in their blood making them fidgety and restless. “Let’s see some action pretty boy!” “Yeah, put your fingers in her pussy… I wanna see her squirm.” You knew it was wrong that their lewd suggestions lit a fire in you, but you couldn’t help imagine Shikamaru doing those things to you. Your desire was becoming overwhelming.

“Lets get this over with,” he said and smiled at you, taking your hand and then squeezing it. “It’s gonna be fine, I’m right here with you okay? And I’ll take good care of you.” You nodded and squeezed back, taking solace in his presence. He reached for your face and pulled you to him. The way he kissed you was becoming comforting, and strangely addictive. You were already wanting more, but this was not the time. He trailed his hand up from it’s hold on your waist to the bodice of the lingerie and his fingertips traced the top of your breast, moving down again to lightly pinch your nipple.

You softly mewled at his touch, grateful that the platform put space between you and the audience and that their shouting was drowning out any sounds that escaped your lips. He moved down kissing your jaw and finding his way to your neck. You inhaled sharply and gripped his exposed thigh, he was far too good at this. “I thought we weren’t gonna give ‘em a show,” he whispered in your ear, then bit down on it. A soft whimper left your throat in response. “I’m not trying to- it’s just, you’re playing with me too much.” “I have to make you wet so I don’t hurt you,” he explained. You could feel him smiling against your neck, “so, you like me playing with you?” He sunk his teeth into your neck and suckled the soft flesh, pulling it with his teeth, creating a purple splotch for all to see. “Shika-ah- now is really not the time- mmhh- to play.” His hand trailed down your torso and stopped at the waistband of your underwear. “I know, but I like making you make these cute little sounds.” Shikamaru pressed the pad of his finger, rubbing up and down your clothed slit. “Oh fuck,” you sighed, he growled in response and captured your lips in a searing kiss. He was rubbing more desperately, listening to the sounds of your moans. You began to stroke his cock through his shorts and he let out a hiss. Shikamaru pulled the cloth of your underwear to the side and slowly slid his middle finger into your tight heat. You whined in response as he began to slowly thrust and curl his digit inside you. Your hand reached down and you began to palm his dick in return. You could feel the wet patch of his pre-cum on the cloth of the shorts. You moaned into his mouth, he was so hard already, and you were wiggling your hips with need. You did your best to still them, to follow what you’d agreed with Shikamaru, but your resolve was crumbling.

“Just fuck her already.” “Just shove your dick in!”

You pulled away from his lips and moved to his neck. “I guess it’s working,” you whispered relieved. But with the way his finger was curling inside you, you were wishing you didn’t have to be boring. Your eyes glanced into the crowd of drunken rowdy royalty. Something about the sea of eyes you were met with had you clenching around him. “Shit…” he hissed in response and began to pump his finger faster. “I wanna feel you cum all over my hand,” he growled before pressing another finger inside, stretching your walls. You moaned, louder this time than you had meant to. The crowd cheered in response, shouting more of their explicit ideas of what Shikamaru should do to you next.

You pulled his shorts down, and your mouth watered at the sight of his thick cock slapping up against his abs. A large drop of pre-cum oozing from the tip. You used your thumb to circle the head, spreading the pre-cum around. Shikamaru’s breath hitched in his throat, his fingers slowing inside you, your teasing proving to be quite the distraction. “If you keep that up, I won’t be able to hold back as easily,” he said, his breath moving in and out of his lungs more rapidly. Your eyes flicked to the crowd and then back to him. “Shika… don’t hold back, I need it so bad,” you ground your hips down into his hands, begging for more. “Are you sure? they’re all gonna see…” he questioned before his gaze darkened, “or is that what you want?” The guilt spread all over your face, before you confirmed his suspicions.

He didn’t waste time flattening you to the bed and climbing on top of you. “Shit, I didn’t actually think you’d get off on being watched,” his tone becoming darker as he lifted your leg and ran his tongue from your ankle to your inner thigh. He bit down on the soft flesh, sucking another dark purple mark into your skin. “You wanna put on a fucking show? You like them all watching you?” He sat up and landed a sharp smack to the bruise he’d just sucked into your skin. “Yes, ah- a show, let them watch, just please fuck me,” you pleaded. He laughed deviously, “oh not yet princess,” his devilish eyes sparked and glowed with lust. He held himself over you, and licked a stripe across your breast. He settled on sucking your nipple into his mouth, pulling at it with his teeth. He took the other in his hand and began to twist and pull it with his fingers. He released your nipple, “you wanna show off?” Your eyes widened at his implication. “Wh-what are you gonna do?”

Shikamaru climbed behind you and faced you towards the crowed. He held you up on your knees, one hand around your neck and the other on your breast. “Look at her pretty fucking tits huh?” The spectators cheered and began yelling obscenities. He pulled you down on your ass to where you were sitting in front of him and he pried your legs apart with his own. “And see her pretty little pussy?” The crowd was again loud with approval. This was now becoming the show they wanted. “Yeah well take a good long look now because she is all mine.” His tone was filled with lust as he said it and he spread you open with his fingers, allowing everyone to drink in the sight of your exposed core. He began to circle your clit slowly while, everyone watching whistled and cheered, your body grinding into his hand, seeking further friction. You hated how much it turned you on, having all these people watch, but it did. The way their eyes were hungrily taking in your body on display while Shikamaru played with you like a toy.

He moved to where he was over you and you were laying on your back. “You want this?” You mewled, longing for his touch again. “Yes, I do, I need it.” He laughed over you, “why don’t you ask nicely hmm?” “Please, Shikamaru, please.” His thumb traced your lips before delving into your mouth. “You’re so cute when you beg,” he growled before slowly, inch by inch, easing his cock inside of you. “Ah- ohhh fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Does my cock feel good?” He began to move but teasingly slow. “Oh it’s so good Shika,” you whined. He slowed his thrusts even more, “is it better than Kiba?” he whispered in your ear. Your eyes grew wide, “wh-what?” He started fucking you with deeper strokes, each one his cock is hitting your cervix. “Oh you didn’t think I knew about that? Thought I had no idea you were fucking Kiba all these years?” he growled. His jealousy was pent up, from watching you from the side lines, running off with his comrade into the wood, or sneaking off during missions for a quickie. At the time, Shikamaru was unable to express himself for the sheer reason that he was sure you hated him. But now you belonged to each other… he didn’t have to hide anything anymore. “Do you have any idea how much I liked you?” The way he said it was full of regret and relief. You looked up at him with wide eyes, you’d thought he detested you until today… you’d had no idea how he really felt. “So think of this as revenge… I wanna hear you screaming my fucking name,” he smirked and gave you a particularly hard thrust making you cry out. “And I think they wanna hear you scream it too.”

Shikamaru was aware of the watching crowed and while he wasn’t thrilled with their prying eyes, he was aware of how the humiliation made your cunt clench around his cock. He slowed his thrusts till he was practically still inside of you. You whined and pulled at his shoulders, wordlessly begging him to continue. “You’re all mine now, so I can do what I want with you, right?” he asked, thumbing over the sweat that had collected over your hairline. “Please Shikamaru, it’s so fucking good,” you lowered your voice before adding, “it’s way better than Kiba.” He smirked upon hearing you say half of what he wanted to hear but he didn’t move. You tried your best to push your hips up to get any kind of friction you could but it was no use, the way he lay on top of you, you were pinned. “I’m all yours now, all fucking yours, please just move, I’m begging you.” That was all he needed to move inside of you, and he resumed his long deep strokes. You moaned, your jaw going slack with pleasure. This time when he spoke, he didn’t address you but the crowd. “See how my pretty pussy sucks me back in? Even her body is begging for my cock.”

You looked over to the crowed. You were met with the sight of royal men and women coming undone, fisting their cocks or shoving their hands beneath their silk dresses watching Shikamaru fuck you senseless. You groaned at the spectacle they were now making out of themselves. “I bet you’re all fucking jealous of me, but she’s mine.” His fingers were digging into the flesh of your thighs, leaving bruises in their wake. He held himself up with one hand while the other was sadistically shoving fingers in your mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, and you complied willingly, becoming too fucked out to resist anymore. He pulled his fingers out with a slick pop, still fucking you relentlessly, and he trailed his wet fingers down your body to tease your clit. With the pace he was fucking you, and the slew of onlookers who were now touching themselves to you, you were already on the edge. “Shik-a-ah, I can’t ta-“ “Oh you’re gonna take it, slut, whether you like it or not,” he laughed. The pleasure was overwhelming and it wasn’t long before you could feel the white hot sensation of your impending orgasm. Shikamaru could feel it too, the way you were clenching around him like a vice. “Are you really going to cum all over my cock with all these people watching you?” he chided and then added, “go on, show all these people how much of a slut you are for me, I dare you.” It was then that the coil broke and your nails were scraping down his back in a desperate attempt to cling to reality. But he didn’t slow his thrusts, nor did he remove his fingers from your clit.

“Such a good fucking girl, cumming for me in front of all these people,” he praised. Your eyes were rolled back and your mouth was hanging open. “Awww she’s drooling, look how fucking pretty she is.” He was so sadistic, addressing the audience, getting their attention. He pulled his cock out abruptly and leaned down, licking one long stripe up your sloppy cunt before sinking his cock back into you. “You taste so good, pretty, taste,” he commanded before spitting into your already open mouth. “Good right?” you mewled in response, unable to make words. “I bet you’d like to taste my cum, but that’s for another time, for now, I’m going to cum deep inside this pretty pussy, and claim you as mine.” “Please,” it was a single word but it was all you could muster.

But Shikamaru wasn’t forgiving or understanding about your current state. “What was that? We can’t hear you, slut,” he growled addressing the audience. “I think I wanna see you beg again.” Your head was reeling from the intensity of your last orgasm, yet another one was approaching already. The way Shikamaru was treating you was pushing you closer to the edge, and he knew it too, the cocky bastard. But it felt so good that you wanted to oblige him, behave for him, just to get more. You needed more. “Please, Shika, please c-cum inside me, please, deep- i-ah-inside,” you begged and tears started to form in the corners of your eyes. “I like you like this, ya know? Messy.” He rolled his hips into yours with such skill, his cock brushing against your walls hitting every spot possible. “You want me to fuck my cum deep inside you?” He reached down and began to rub at your clit again like he did before. “Please Shika, fuck, please c-cum in m-me,” your breath ragged through your words. “But if I do that, you could get pregnant, couldn’t you?” His tone was painfully sarcastic, you knew what he wanted, and you were going to give it to him. “Yes, but I don’t care, I just want your cum, please, Shika,” you pleaded, meeting his eyes. “You all hear that? The slut doesn’t care if I get her pregnant.” You were humiliated by his harsh speech but you were even more humiliated that those were the words that pushed you over the edge, forcing your orgasm out of your already spent body. Your high pitched cries echoed around the large room and your cunt clenched around his cock. “That’s it, milk my fucking cock,” he praised, “gonna cum deep in your pretty pussy.” It was the last thing he said before he painted your walls white with his cum. It felt warm, pouring out of him and into you and you moaned softly in delight. He stilled inside you and used his forefinger to to turn your head to face him, from where it drooped against the mattress. “You’re all mine now,” he said, but this time he said it lovingly. He kissed your face, paying special attention to the places that were covered in sweat, tears, or drool. It was as if he was appreciating the art work you had become by allowing him to make a mess of you.

He pulled out of your aching cunt and you felt the aftermath of your sex spilling out on the mattress and your thighs. “Oh no, don’t waste it, love,” he chided and used two of his fingers to pick up the moisture off your thighs and push it back into your sopping pussy. “That’s my girl, take all my cum,” he praised as he watched it drip out once more, then repeating the process. You’d not only been wed to this man, but marked by him as well. No one had ever fucked you so good in your life, and now he was all yours. You could have him whenever you wanted and better yet, he wanted you. So many thoughts were spinning in your head but all you could think of was wanting Shikamaru to lay down with you. Instead he got off the bed and undid the fitted sheet, wrapping you up inside of it. “That’s it, shows over,” he announced to the crowd as he redressed in his singular garment. “Can you sit up okay?” he asked you sweetly, and held your hands to help you.

You sat up and your head was spinning but his hand on your face was bringing you stability, especially with the way his thumb was tracing your hairline. He grabbed the edges of the sheet and wrapped it around you tighter, shielding you from the prying eyes. The eyes… you’d been in such a state of bliss this time, you’d completely forgotten. Looking up was a sight to behold. The royals looked just as spent as you felt. Their breathing ragged, hair and clothes a mess. Some having stained their own clothing from their own personal activities. A few of the royals had paired off and some were still having an event of their own. In the middle of it all though was the Feudal Lord, a horrified look on his face.

Now in all the marriage nights the Feudal Lord hard witnessed thus far, he had never seen such a graphic display of possessive affection. No one had even dared address the spectators, much less spur them on during such an intimate act. Things normally went how he preferred them, an awkward and short lasting session, where the couple are red faced and looking away from the crowed and each other… he got off on watching their embarrassment, a sadist in his own right. The Feudal Lord was not only furious that things hadn’t gone as he planned but that you and Shikamaru had created a show, not only worth watching but worth participating along side. He was seething in his throne watching the two of you caress each other lovingly. He’d been told you both hated each other and figured it would be the most perfect pairing for an awkward sexual encounter. What he didn’t know was that you and Shikamaru equally had strong feelings for each other that were buried underneath a mountain of falseness, built independently to protect against rejection. The sexual tension just building for years without any knowledge until the kiss at the alter had awakened everything. The Feudal Lord could see it all clearly now, and cursed himself for setting up two people’s forever happiness instead of their unending sorrow. Now he couldn’t force a divorce, that would be too obvious, he’d just have to choose better next time, and in the mean time figure out what to do with the rest of his cum soaked court of royals who were still panting in the makeshift theatre’s velvet seats.

Shikamaru smirked as he kissed your forehead, “I guess we didn’t follow the plan but it seems the Lord is even less happy with us now… maybe he will finally put an end to these forced marriages.” You doubted this would stop him from carrying out his will but, what you were grateful for was that you’d been paired as well as you could have. “I’m just sorry it has to be this way, I don’t want you to feel forced or-“ You kissed him then, gently. Shikamaru fell into the touch and closed his eyes. “I also wish we’d started with dating… but I’m just glad that if I’m forced to marry anyone, it’s you.”

#shika #shika fic #shikamaru #shikamaru nara #nara clan #naruto #narutoverse #naruto oneshot #shikamaru oneshot

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foureyeswithanicesmile · 3 years

Text

You’re still the boy that I’d pick.

Some love for my blind bf Matt Murdock because I love him, Mentions of R@pe (you kill rapists), p3dophelia, violence and swearing.

Alluring. Those were the thoughts that preoccupied Matt Murdock’s mind when he first became acquainted with you. Even whilst he couldn’t see you, he new you were stunning. Perhaps it was the Musk and vanilla body spray you layered onto yourself everyday? Or the slower, laid back voice you kept.

However; Matt wasn’t the only person who perceived you as attractive, many men and women of Hell’s kitchen thought you were gorgeous. This was evident when you, Foggy, Karen and Matt went out to Josie’s; No matter how many times you went, the amount of people paying for your drink or asking for your number never faltered.

Whilst you preoccupied Murdock’s mind, somebody else did too. A new ‘ vigilante’ in town who actually went as far as to kill a good number of men. After investigating further, Matt managed to find out the reasoning for such bloody murders. This new ‘guardian’ of Hell’s kitchen killed rapist’s and pedophiles, in the most agonising ways possible.

What Matt also hadn’t realised was that the person doing such actions was the same person he found himself acquainted with almost everyday. The musk and vanilla scent may have gone away during your rendezvous, but your ragged breaths after long moments of fighting gave you away.

“ You’re going to defend the men I kill? You have not a single fucking right” Your voice finally echoed through your mask. Similar to Daredevil, you wore specially made detective gear- allowing him to question if you got it from Melvin Potter.

Matt didn’t want to defend the men you thought were detrimental to kill; but if you continued to murder in the way’s you did- you would’ve easily crossed the line between justice and revenge.

Your sentence was met with silence, the heaving of Matt’s chest signifying thought. He knew you. Perhaps not through any signature scent, but he most definitely knew you.

Before Matt could think about any possible identities, you lunged at him piercingly quick.

You wielded a mallet, instead it was almost comically large. The weight of it meant it could only be wielded by somebody slightly strong- and quick. With his heightened senses, he managed to catch the mallet before it smashed his skull open- him now fighting to keep it steady.

“ You work for Fisk?’ He struggled to ask, your mouth going almost agape through your mask at the sudden question. You managed to throw the man towards the floor with a hefty kick, now using the weight of your weapon to secure him onto the ground.

After stomping the shit out of his shins to the point it was a struggle to move, you raised your foot directly above his face; building the courage to smash it in.

“ Stay the fuck out of my business-Devilboy”.

That’s where he knew you.

You were the person who he found ordering coffee with.

And now here you were, ready to stomp his head in under your military boot.

“ It’s me-It’s me” Matt panted, now ripping the mask off him.

Almost immediately, you stopped. Removing your mallet from his torso and your positioned foot from above his face.

“ Matthew?” you breathlessly gasped, eyes wide and lips parted at the discovery. The melancholy mood now preoccupying the scene certainly mirrored the impending abyss that the dark of night contained.

“ Why would you do this to yourself?” He asks with clear audacity, the loud scoff escaping your lips only signifying your disbelief.

“ These men aren’t just. Don’t defend people I know you wouldn’t dare to.” You requested firmly, the words being directly pulled from Matt’s thoughts. These men did deserve hell, but you were no better by giving it to them in such ways.

“ Torturing and beating men to death isn’t just either. You know that.” He affirmed, now finally managing to get himself up from his position on the floor.

In an attempt to dismiss, he walks over to you, hand attempting to rest on your shoulder. Yet you refused, harshly hitting his hand away from you.

“ You don’t get to touch me. Not in this situation.”

“ So What can I do?” Matt asked, head slightly tilted in confusion.

“ You can leave me the hell alone- Like this never happened.” You now spoke coldly, completely contrasting the tone you used when accepting a compliment on the street- or thanking Josie for the shitty vodka she’d give you.

Matt didn’t want to loose you. Not to the concept and act of revenge.

“ I’m not working for fucking Fisk either- if that gets you out of my hair.” You finally affirmed, the surname almost disgusting you as it left your lips.

“ How do you find these men? You have the same routine day in and day out?” Matt wondered; If it had been anybody else, he would’ve knocked them out and called Brett- but this time, Matt was intrigued by your way of ‘ hunting’.

“ Child pornography tapes. You can hear em, so you visit every shitty brothel- club and bar you can find, until you finally find the fucker.” You announced almost menacingly, relaying any memory you had of luring men to you before murdering.

Matt’s silence only ushered you to attempt to explain.

“ They always go for younger prostitutes- barely legal ones. It’s fucking disgusting Matt.”

Your words only forced Matt to purse his lips together. Your reasonings weren’t unjust whatsoever, but your methods were almost too brutal to justify.

“ You have blood on your hands- blood not even bleach can get rid of.” Matt’s voice cried through the winter gust’s of air, a sigh escaping you afterwards.

“ But It’s not too late. Do what I do-“

You cut him off swiftly.

“ You fight the men you defend. We’re different.”

“ I throw the people who commit crimes into prison, not into graves.”

Your scoff once again became audible.

“ Is that before or after you beat them half to death? I do the job you’re too good to do.” You borderline spat. Matt wasn’t like you, but somehow you were like Matt. It was most likely the sense of taking justice into your own hands.

“ You’re killing yourself in the process. What If you get caught up in something bigger?” Matt spoke with determination, now walking towards you with no sense of aggression.

“ Like you and Fisk? I’m not getting myself caught into shit like that” You shrugged, now leaning against an apartment roof’s door. Matt slowly managed to put the pieces of you being the so called ‘ purifier’ of Hell’s Kitchen.

“ So all those times you came in with aching ribs?those men hurt you?” Matt wondered with concern, you only laughing at the thought of letting nothing but a grimy sex offender beating you up.

“ I jumped out of a burning building that time- burnt an entire brothel to the ground with nobody but freaks in it.”

Your words stung. Not personally, but the thought of you being so proud of your murderous ways completely contrasted your ‘ pretty person on the street’ demeanour you harboured on separate occasions.

“ You don’t mean that- those men were bad but-“

“ But what? They could’ve been taken down by the law? Is that what you think? These men were rich men. They don’t go down so easily Matt.” You spoke truthfully, Matt’s flashbacks of finding the man who killed his father with a fancy house and a new name now preoccupying him.

“ I don’t want to have to throw you in a jail cell, [name]” Matt sighs, now running a hand over his face.

“ So don’t. You decide what happens to me now Murdock” You finally concluded, face almost completely nonchalant for his warning.

“ You could help me. With Fisk with everything” Matt began to propose, his voice quickening when he observed your disinterested expression.

“ Matthew.” You sighed after a few moments, Matt’s body language almost conveying one of a sad puppy compared to your strong stance.

“ Get me killed and I’ll haunt you.”

Matt was joyed, the last thing he needed was you being used as an eventual pawn against him.

You on the other hand, you were conflicted. You were happy that Matt could confide in you especially since you thought of him to be quite attractive- but fighting against the borderline ruler of Hell’s Kitchen brings a lot of struggle.

Clearly, your concern elevated your heartbeat, as Matt now began replacing his hands on your shoulders to secure you.

“ Don’t be worried about this- that mallet could easily do enough damage to whatever we’re up against” Matt assured, your lips slightly raising at the corners.

“ But you can’t kill anybody” He announced, your melodramatic ‘ what?’ filling the cold air.

“ So what? We just knock em out and hope they don’t remember us?” You asked, not moving Matt’s hands from your arms.

“ Yes- exactly that” Matt began to smile as he listened to you ramble about how stupid he was, he thought you were the best thing to walk into his ‘regular’ life, but now knowing that you kept your ways even when wearing a mask and running around the city made you admirable. You were an unbreakable character- unlike what he thought himself to be.

“ That’s so stupid Matthew- I should kill you right here you know that? Hell you might come back with common sense and some sigh-“

Your sentence was muffled by a harsh kiss, Matt’s grip on your arms eventually softening after he noticed your reciprocation. Your hands made their way to his face, in which you held during the cramped, forceful kiss.

Matt’s hands eventually left your arms, now resting atop of your shoulders in order to release himself from your grasp.

When he had pulled away, he noticed how elevated your heartbeat was and by the sound of the quickened bone shifting as you breathed- he could only assume that you wanted a kiss for a while.

“ I’m gonna forget about this and I’m going to head home alright? Don’t wonder around for too long you have work tomorrow.” Matt began to dismiss, now heading back home- a smirk on his face as he noticed your lack of witty comments.

You liked being close to Matt Murdock. Even if you hadn’t shared the same views on the law.

AN: ive been away for ages, its been the first week of school and lord do i have a lot of homework, also im sorta loosing love for titans, the writings getting sloppy and the ships are almost too scattered to be followed

#daredevil #marvel ff #matt murdock #fanfiction

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Friends With Benefits Chapter 11 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter XI ~ Three Daggers.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Word Count : 3.8k

Warnings : lots of angst, nsfw mentions.

Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

Notes : Buckle in friends, it’s a bumpy ride from here on out. Chapter 12, [out in the next week or two] will be the end of this fic and I’m already crying thinking of it. It’s been loads of fun! As always, please please do leave feedback, anonymous or not :) your words are what make it all worth it.

Chapter 10 Recap : As Keanu stands outside Y/N’s door, after seeing Matt walk out of her apartment, they both stand in silence, unsure of how to feel. Through thick tension, a series of flashbacks reveal how Keanu and Y/N’s relationship began, and what events lead things to become as messy as they are now. Finally, they decide to talk about the unspoken feelings and things that have been going on between them.

“Did you sleep with him?” He stills, expression strained and down casted stare piercing knives at the floor below. His arms rest heavy by his sides, dread of the coming words churn in his stomach; the fire burns in his belly.

“Excuse me?” You return, arms crossing, stance collective.

“Please.” His lip quivers so slight, gravelled, assertion coated tone less than willing to beat around the bush. “Just answer me, Y/N.”

Your eyes still, connected to his that finally, momentarily find yours. You stay silent for a moment long, and the words that come haunt him. Haunt him before they’ve even settled, had time to absorb in the depths of his train wrecked realization. “Yes. I did.”

The first dagger.

You’ve spent enough nights with his manhood curled inside your legs, to know. Far too many evenings with his fingers dipped inside you; lapping, delighting the honey that seeped just for him.

You know him. And despite you desperately trying to forget,

He knows you. He knows you all too well.

The heaviness to the room suffocates you, claws away at each anticipation scorched crevice of your mind. A resigned silence has fallen across the atmosphere, the mere tick of the clock in the distant kitchen corridors filling the gaping holes. Time moves slow. For the first time, you both stand. You’re both here. You’re here, where nothing but words will heal. Nothing but words will suffice. And when you need them most, when you finally need them, they hinder. They’ve gone. They feel far too heavy, and his shoulders seem far too frail.

For the first time you see, Keanu seems, far too,

frail.

You feel heavy, weighed down. Open your mouth. Let the truth exist somewhere other than inside your body. Let the words that were made just for him,

find him.

A candle burns to the right, set on the wooden oaky coffee table. His favourite scent, something he’d left behind. Attention remains focused on the flickering flame as you continue to observe him from your spot, wondering, desperately scraping to know what thoughts seared his mind. What reveries he wondered, if he’d just reply. If he’d just talk.

His eyes scan the floor; you know there’s a brew fizzing inside his mind. Much to your disappointment, his cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; strands, long and lengthy seem matted, messier than usual. He hadn’t been keeping firm care of himself as usual,

You fear you’re the reason. That you did this to him, when all you wanted was to ease the burn. To do the better for the both of you.

You’d nearly gotten comfortable in the silence that loomed, almost forgotten that a storm was coming. It was bound to. So sudden, to the gravel of his tone, your chest tightens in guard. Defence.

“I thought you only sleep with me.” He starts, voice heavy, rid of that certain uniqueness it normally held for you. That gentle softness that usually shone. Perhaps it was still there, hidden in the grim shadows.

Perhaps your morphed mind refused to acknowledge it. Refused to remember, to confess that he’d always been far too good. Too good to deserve what you’d done. The way you both let it be. “Why does it matter?” You ask lowly, barely returning. The words have seemed to die in your throat before fully falling out; as if they never truly wanted to be heard by him. As if they saw right through you.

“Because. I thought that was our thing.” He reasons, tone firm, defensive in return. Crinkled lines of stress embroider his outer eyes, and you feel your insides plunge at the sight.

Your eyes narrow before a slight defence rings your voice, jaw tightening to his confidence. “Since when do we have a thing?”

The lines to his forehead firm, and his spine unravels in a firmer stance. To his jaw’s signal, his heavy head turns so slightly, taking in the words of your return. He’s stunned, upset, disappointed, irate, a cocktail of all negative emotions that had been crawling to the surface as of late. The emotions he’d swallowed down, allowed to burn inside just to have you near.

Solely to have you stay, even if it meant it wasn’t in the way he wanted you.

But now, there was none to lose. You’d been in the arms of another man. Let another man touch you the way he thought only his fingers could, allowed another man to taste the sap that seeped from your lips, the honey of your body the way only he should have been allowed.

Was he being selfish? He wonders, he ponders. But it burns. The burn triumphs, yet again. “We do, Y/N. Are you doing to deny everything?” he asks, thick hearted. “Everything we did?”

“What do you mean.” You release, the pricks of the sentence taking form of a statement more than a question. “We are- were in it for the benefits. Just sex, Keanu. Those were your words.” Your head lowers for a moment, collecting the words you needed him to hear. The defence you needed to fend. “You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t do. You do not control me.” Your teeth almost grit, lip bitten with affirmation. “You don’t get to decide who I can be with.”

The feeling persists as you try to blink it away slowly, little by little, desperately striving to keep your vomit of words from yelping out. It’s become much, far too much. The blades are cutting, sinking into your flesh.

“I get that.” Keanu waves off, understanding, sympathetic almost. His persona stays, yet seems to melt away in the same breath. Softer, milder tones hue his voice, and his words fall warmer. Warmer than the cold he’d been spitting thus far.

Yet, it’s funny how now, they feel colder.

Despite the sound, they’re piercing into each of your built up, sorrowed seams. They’re real. They’re true. “Y/N, you came to me. You wanted this. I understand that I too let it get this way, I too agreed.” Milder, softer, heavier. “But what you don’t have the right to do, is walk out on me when it’s convenient for you. You don’t get to decide when you want me and when you don’t.”

He bleeds, he too, bleeds. From this close, he looks tired, prominent bags shadow cast under his eyes, stabbing your veins with guilt. “Maybe it was my fault for letting you come back and chip away at me. For wanting you still every single time you came and went.” His words prove sharp, the sharp scalpels you’d never thought you’d hear pour from him. Despite great efforts, your eyes fall weaker and weaker to each word, each vowel, each syllable of his tenor. “Do you think it was easy for me, Y/N? When you disappeared for a week without a word? I was a mess, Y/N. I was ruined thinking I did something to hurt you. You made me feel that.”

The second dagger.

“We had something. Don’t you dare take that away from me and don’t you dare stand there and tell me we didn’t. It was never just sex, Y/N.” He feels your heavy stare, the way your eyes flicker with something so unfamiliar. As if the flip of a button, the tension between your aggravated bodies shifts, thickens, feels as if something that was never meant to flourish between you and him.

“We were…we were more. You were more.” He exhales, slow and sad. “You were never just midnight relief for me,” Cringing, he waves off a heavy palm to the sour words, his face scrunched to the thought of you thinking you were ever just physical need for him. Ever just sex. “You were-- you are a friend. Perhaps my dearest friend.” His words sear. They do hurt. Shackled with dread. You are, chained. Held. Composed of nothing but pure, utter, hurt.

He stands there, and even through the ice of his speech, it’s still him. Still that sliver of hope you’d always held, that dearest comfort in tumbling darkness. Even today, in the scorching gray, he still felt like home. And that was the worst part; home. Being torn, fraying away from you.

You wish he was still human, still something normal. You don’t remember when you started looking at him,

and seeing poetry. A beautiful verse, a well rehearsed lyric, a symphony you remember lipping your tongue.

His words are breaking you, killing you softly. Something surfaces, something you so desperately didn’t want to, but it does. Guard.

;The poisons in our mouths burn holes in our tongues; our cheeks.

The same guard that had perhaps been breaking you thus far. The same guard that made you leave. The same defence that refused to acknowledge out loud that he was more. That he was the one who kept you up at night, the one that crossed your mind each waking of the morning, each dusk of the night. You’d swore the joints in your neck creak when you slant up to the gray ceiling, and the ache at your right temple pounds harder, your veins course with something so icy, so frozen; an agonizing groan barely surfaces before your fingers mould along your temples, the words falling off your lips to an appalling mutter. “No, no, no, no.”

And that’s why you lie. You part your lips,

and lie.

“Keanu!” you almost cry, bones aching, chest hefty and heart pouring. You’re drained, exhausted, the conversation has turned darker than anticipated. The sharp edges only cut further. “We’re no good for each other. We aren’t and we never were.” A slight frown contorts your features.

These words, this stream of misery; you know they’re hurting him too. You know he’s hurting. You’re hurting him.

But they must be spoken. They must be shared. This thread that holds you bound, this cord that draws you back must be shred. Must be broken. It’s what he needs. What you both need.

By now, the river had flowed too far; the water rose far too deep.

By now, if he’d be a part of you still, you fear you won’t be able to settle. You want one hundred percent of him, in the way lovers do. True lovers; the equities that come farther than physical connection. You want all of him, but you fear he won’t be able to give that part of him. Won’t be able to give you more. Just how much more you needed. And so you suffer, you writhe, and you ache some more as the words fall. You fight back sorrow as the façade falls.

A river flows from your mouth, falls, pelts, cascades. The substitute of tears, your eyes won’t bare hold. “You were my first friend, my only friend when I came here.” You sympathize. “Of course you were more, Keanu. You weren’t just a quick fuck for me when I needed one, so don’t you dare accuse me of it.” A faint frown lingers to the planes of your face, and your eyes grow something worse than sad. Something full of pure, utter, melancholy. “We made a huge mistake and you know it, Ke.” Confessing, you watch the way his muscles tense under his signature black jacket.

He’s suffering. You’re killing him.

“We both have issues, and we both have problems.” The ugly truth ultimately falls. But perhaps, you shouldn’t have shed light on it. Shouldn’t have dug up, salted old wounds. “Did we really think sex would fix that?” The truth hurts. It’s sinking daggers into your flesh by each word. You’d never been one to show weakness, yet to him, you let all the vulnerability fall. All the weaknesses that allowed you to get this way. “We made a mistake. And it’s best we just move on.”

There, in his eyes today, right now, you swore you saw something you’d never seen before.

He’s always been admirable, reserved, but confident. Something about him always seemed collected, as if he’d got the entire world figured out and had came to terms with whatever it had to offer. He held poise, self-reliance.

But today- the emptiness inside your chest throbs and your fingers nimble under his intense stare. He doesn’t speak for prolonged moment, only stays,

numb.

Something in him died today. Something felt like withered flowers and caved ruins.

It’s unsettling to see such a sight before your eyes, to see a mountain before you disintegrate, yet refuse to acknowledge it. Eerie, soul crushing discomfort. You saw it in him,

but felt it in you.

Somehow, these things of his, always come back to you. To haunt you.

Keanu blinks slowly, coming back to the present as his head returns. His thoughts flow, rugged, anything but the usual smooth his collected demeanor was used to. It doesn’t matter to her, everything we did. These thoughts, these words, these feelings; they bubbled. She thinks we’re a mistake. Boiled, churned, gasped to be let out. These words needed liberation. Needed to be free.

Does she not remember? He wonders, he ponders. How could she forget?

Tick.

Tock.

Tick--

Even the ticking of the clock in the distant kitchen seems to drown out, seems to fade away unfinished. A heaviness still suffocates the room; feelings still remain trapped inside the depths of your confined hearts. The silence stretches on, the seconds, prolonged moments of quiet rack and add up, and so does your unease.

His expression carefully falters, devoid of anything that shows how utterly hopeless he continues to fall with each jab you take at him. Something so unreadable. Unreadably broken.

He drains too. His silence hurts.

More than the words you’re spewing; the words that cut, slowly slaughter your souls in a gritting slay. Your own eyes crumble, grip tightening in a balled fist similar to the grip that contorts your aching heart.

You feel disgust rip through yourself like a lightening bolt, the pain comes in shooting bolts piercing

Sharp.

Shrill.

It’s slipping through his fingers. It’s all slipping far too quickly.

“Y/N,” Keanu mumbles, urgent yet soft. Heavy voice weighted, plead drowned tone piercing, like lightening. “You-”

He tries again to talk, yet it proves too much. The way he speaks kills you, it’s murdering you cut by cut. It’s impossible to stomach the look on his face.

Dagger by dagger. You’re not strong enough. This mountain you carry on your tongue, in your bones, deep in each crevice of your physical self; it holds too much history, too much vulnerability. This love that laces in each of your veins for him; if it escapes, and the words kiss his skin, into his ears; you fear it won’t be enough. That it wont turn out the way you’ve dreamt all along.

And that’ll be the end. That’ll butcher you for good.

That will be the death of you.

“No, Keanu.” You voice, head shaken gently to a downcast defeat below. You see him tense, back leaned against the gray hallway wall.

Defeat.

You’ve both defeated each other today. Both sunk the needles exactly where it hurts the most.

;Taking throws at the most vulnerable parts of each other. We’re like fingers on thorns of honey;

we know exactly where it hurts.

Ambling up beside his larger frame, you position adjacent; so close to him, where you’d feel lightening in your heart each time you reminisce on being. When you think back to the times when he was this close. When he won’t be anymore.

The hard wall feels cold against your skin, both your eyes intent on the surroundings, anywhere but on each other. Slow, quiet, you sigh a beaten exhale, eyes momentarily shutting to ease the heaviness for just one moment. He slumps, unable to hold the weight of his own two feet much longer. “No.” You mumble, you mutter. You force your tongue to move. Sick to the stomach. It churns inside, the brew of pain, hurt, defeat, agony. The fall in your eyes intensifies, covered by a gloss of realization.

This was it.

This would be it.

Dense, heavy, you glide. Your back slides down the hallway wall as your knees give out, falling to an upright seat on the floor below. Legs crossing with your hands positioned neat in your lap, weary shoulders slump; and your eyes find Keanu’s standing tall above you. Patting the spot beside you with one heavy thump, you sigh.

He swallows thick, before gliding down as well.

falling, falling, falling.

There, in the quiet walls, you sit together. Insides burning, hearts twisting. Falling.

The silence endures, your tired hearts rest. Overpowered, overwhelmed, you sit together.

;I’m erasing you from my skin.

“Keanu,” you begin, empathizing; limbs limp with exhaustion. “I can’t be with you anymore. I just can’t. It’s draining, it’s exhausting.”

The third

dagger.

And this one, would hurt in him constantly. Would burn in him endlessly.

Your every word is cruel. Brutally candid; straightforward. Each and every syllable, each vowel, each ring tears something inside him expertly, like deliberately unhurried knives; merciless daggers sinking in deep.

Keanu’s mind wanders still, the words he so desperately wanted to say to you still bubbling. The conversation hadn’t played out how he planned. This was not what he had planned. This is not what the hopes he came with wrote. The burn is so rugged, so intense, and the words fight to come out. They fight to be heard by you. Fight to save your sinking ship.

But they don’t. they ultimately don’t. They still in his throat. They dissolve in his throat.

He couldn’t put himself out there for you to break down again. Couldn’t hand himself over to you again, only to be destroyed, yet again.

His features falter, realization seeps into his bones. In these moments, everything, each second seems so fragile, so precious.

-She’s slipping away far too quickly-

She’s slipped away;

She’s gone.

Keanu’s head falls back, hitting the wall behind you both with an audible thud. He nods gently with a hefty respire, eyes closing for a brief moment. Slain.

Slow and wounded, he removes himself from your side, standing on his own two somnolent legs. The air around has only darkened, except now, there’s no piercing. No lightening, no bolting.

Just flat, dry, unforgiving air.

He stands tall above you, yet your body stays positioned below on the ground. You can’t seem to move, can’t seem to rise. Can’t seem to rise up from the small. From the low.

From the feeling of low.

Staring up, your eyes lock with his as he begins sincerely, head shaking. The phantom, the ghost of him leans above you, looming over with guilt ridden, shattered realization.

He begins, apologizing. “I promise, all I wanted was to help. Not to make it worse.” Thick cut sadness, gloom glazes each word. He’d come with so much hope; he’d come to you confident he’d get it right. That this time, he’d hold you for good.

With nothing, he’d be leaving. Nothing but haunting memories of the sweetest love, that never worked. The ghost of a love he’d lost, without ever really having it.

“I care about you so much.” He tells, one last time. “I’m sorry if I said anything out of line. You’re an amazing woman, Y/N. I still admire you and all the success you’ve earned since you came here.”

Gray. It’s all falling gray. The murals of a once bright and crimson passion; a once rosy friendship, a yellow hope. All grayed.

“I still wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it.” He finishes, a gentle nod and half attempted smile your way. A haunting smile, that would forever remain carved inside your brain. The smile of the heart you slaughtered.

And for a moment; you think, maybe you loved him, in another lifetime. And maybe you promised you’d find him on the other side.

On the other side – and maybe that’s why you can’t seem to escape him, to let him go.

But today, he is going. He’s leaving for good.

Today, it felt as if the flowers beheaded themselves; the sun burnt to the ground. He’d take them away with him, with each drowning step he took.

He won’t come back; the whispers of your crying thoughts linger.

He has to; the weeps of your heart undertone.

And you wonder, that perhaps you don’t deserve good things. Because this, watching him leave with your heart crucified to his chest, felt as if punishment. Punishment for sins you don’t even remember committing.

He shakes his head one last time, before his back turns. Turns to you, leaves you behind as he begins to move away, toward the bulky front door. He’d bid his goodbyes, wished his farewells.

He is the one that got away. And maybe, the one who comes after him; if one ever will; will remind you of how it was always supposed to be. The mistakes that were never meant to be made.

~They will taste like the poetry; you wish you could’ve composed.

For from today, blue skies would fade gray, the birds would cease to sing. The flowers would never live again, and the burn would maybe subside to nothing, but, gray. You will stay empty, stay longing for what he gave you.

The corridors of each room will be empty; and nothing makes the room feel emptier than longing for someone to be in it. And long you would. Knowing the man you love would be gone for good.

And even after all this pain, all this hurt,

His body is still the only one you want to be undressed under.

His weight is the only one you want resting beside you at your most vulnerable, at your worst.

The daggers have been thrown. The wounds have been carved.

“Stop saying things like that to me.” Sudden, your voice cracks from below. You’d been unsure of how the word had even escaped, plummeted out, fearing no barrier. As if your pulsing heart’s last attempt to ease the agony, to stop him. They’d fallen out, leaving your mind little to fend your guard with.

He halts in his tracks, merely turning in his steps to lock you a surrendered gaze. Why? his pleading orbs beg, wondering what more could be left to said. Head shaking, with his lips pursing tight and taut to a thin line, he stands with his arms side by side, eyes coursing into your soul.

Wondering. What you would say.

“Stop saying things like that to me. Things that make me feel like you’re the only good I’ll ever have.” You barely manage, swallowing thick, dense, pure anguish. Gaze faltering, you eye the floor below, unable to lock stare with him just yet. You whisper, audible yet to his ears with an ultimate connect to his earthy orbs; your own filling with seared, stinging wet sheen.

And the words that would fall from your lips from there on out-

Could never be taken back.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

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#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfiction #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves imagine

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