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rainydaydream-gal18 · 1 year

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(The Bad Batch) Hunter x Reader: Timing

Word Count: 2,844

Warnings: Mentions of O66, some angst, kissy kissy.

You lowered your head, pulling the hood of your cloak farther down over your face in hopes to keep you from being recognizable by any untrustworthy characters. By the looks of it, that meant everyone in this parlor.

It was a risky move going there in the first place. Incredibly dangerous. Some might deem it unwise, but it was all you had.

Ever since that day…that horrible day… you’d been keeping an extremely low profile. You traveled from place to place, having to choose the shadiest modes of transport to avoid the chain code system. Being on the Empire’s most wanted list meant that you had to take every precaution.

You glanced around the crowded parlor, getting a feel for the room. The majority of customers were gathered around one of the dejarik boards. Things were getting rowdy as one individual was just about to defeat his opponent. No one would pay you any mind.

Good. You could locate the one known as Cid without drawing attention to yourself.

She was a known jedi informant, and now a possible way to reach some old friends.

Thanks to Rex’s description, you were able to find her very quickly. She was seated at the bar, quietly sipping her drink and watching the game. You exhaled slowly to gather yourself before walking over and taking the seat next to her.

You ordered a drink casually, knowing that if you jumped right into a slew of questions that she’d be much less likely to give you an answer. Finally, when your drink was set down in front of you, you took a sip and turned to the cantina owner.

“Good evening,” you greeted.

Her yellow eyes regarded you with skepticism that you were speaking to her, but she remained curt. “‘Evening.”

“I am looking for some friends of mine. I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

She lifted a scaly brow, scowling.

“Could you tell me where I might find a group?” You paused, searching for the right words. There was a good chance that they wouldn’t go by their Republic designation. “It’s a very particular group. I’ve been told they do odd jobs for you.”

Cid leaned back, her expression calculating. “I might know of a group. Depends on who’s asking.”

“I’m an ally.”

She huffed. “Sure you are.”

Cid didn’t say anything more, but the message had gotten across. You could only hope that you’d reach them. If you couldn’t, then you’d have to contact Rex again… You remained at the counter, watching as Cid slipped away.

The anticipation of seeing them, seeing him again, was almost too much to bear. Your mind flooded with memories as you waited. Memories of the first time you’d met the intriguing squad. Memories of the first time you’d locked eyes with him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant.” you greeted, blocking a stream of laser blasts. “Though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

His voice emerged smoky and mysterious through the modulator of his helmet as he took out a nearby droid with his viroblade. “Pleasure’s all mine, General.”

Later on, after the initial wave of droids, he removed his helmet to speak with you face-to-face. You were well aware of how the Bad Batch differed from other troops, but it was still surprising to see their appearances.

“Your squad is most impressive,” you said, trying very hard to push down the immediate feelings of attraction that began to blossom as you admired his tattooed features. “And you arrived in just the nick of time.”

He gave a small chuckle, his brow lifting. “It’s what we do.”

“Yeah!” The one known as Wrecker jumped into the conversation, giving a hearty laugh. “Those droids never stand a chance against us!”

Tech was typing away on a set of buttons on his armor. “They are falling back. By my calculations, they will regroup shortly for a final attack.”

“We’d better get ready then,” Crosshair smirked, placing a toothpick between his teeth.

“Any orders?” Hunter asked. It was apparent that the squad was very accustomed to working independently, but he made a point to recognize your authority as a jedi general.

“None except that we retake this base,” you replied, making Wrecker practically jump.

“I like her!”

You found yourself smiling against the rim of your glass right before taking a sip. That battle marked the beginning of your time with the Bad Batch. You had the rank of general, but you’d never assumed command of a legion. The Council would send you on independent missions as they saw fit, and after the success of that one, you were granted permission to assist the squad on a series of assignments.

You came to see the Bad Batch as family. Aside from the particularly risky missions, it was the happiest period of your life.

And that’s where it got messy.

You recalled so vividly the bonds you’d formed with the brothers. The hours working on the ship with Tech. The many different ways to blow up a droid that Wrecker taught you. The time you’d spent getting to know Crosshair and read him, though you still found him puzzling at times. The talks you had with Hunter.

Things got extremely messy when taking into account the feelings you harbored for the sergeant in secret, though such attachments to him, or anyone for that matter, were forbidden. What was worse…he felt the same for you, and he knew about your attachment to him. You could feel it every time his mind was near. With both of you being so sensitive to your surroundings, it was bound to happen. It was an unspoken thing between you. Though you ached for more, you decided that being near him was enough.

Then, there was the night that everything seemed to implode.

Another successful mission.

You gazed out at the beautiful star streaks across the dash as the Marauder traveled at lightspeed. All was quiet aboard the ship. Save for Tech’s busy mind, everyone seemed to be settling down for some much-needed rest.

Oh. There was one more mind that hadn’t been lulled by the sound of the engine. Footsteps made their way up toward the front of the ship where you stood.

“Hey. Sarge.” The very informal greeting was a result of much time spent with the Batch. The lot of you had forsaken by-the-book speech.

His eyes did not flash in amusement like they normally would. His brows furrowed seriously as he leaned against the wall, and your voice took on a more concerned tone. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he replied, though he didn’t look any less troubled. “Just…a few things on my mind.”

“Anything you’d like to share? Maybe talking about it will help,” you offered helpfully. “I’m no Yoda, but I’d like to think that learning under him has earned me some wisdom.” You chuckled, giving him a playful nudge.

“It’s-” he hesitated, gaze meeting yours meaningfully. “I don’t think you want me to talk about this.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because it’s about…us. This. Whatever this is.”

You caught on to where his mind was, feeling your heart flutter and stomach drop at the same time. Your lips parted with a tiny “oh” sound escaping from them. He was right. This was definitely something you didn’t want to talk about. You couldn’t offer him a commitment. Your code wouldn’t allow that. But you didn’t want to lose him. This conversation could very well change everything.

“Hunter… Before you continue, I just want to say that I…I…”

“I know,” he said, stepping forward. It was a small step, but it put him in your space entirely. Suddenly his handsome face was all you could see, and that musky scent of his was the only thing you could smell. His gloved hand reached out gently to brush your fingers.

He knew what you felt for him… because that’s what he felt for you.

“And I’m not asking for anything. Or hoping. I just…have to tell you at least once that I do too.”

His lips ghosted over yours. The warmth of his breath fanned your face, drawing you in while that feeling of comfort and security that you felt with him washed over you. Your fingers entwined with his gloved ones, and you allowed yourself a single moment. Hunter pressed his lips to your own briefly, testing the waters. You leaned in before he could pull away, capturing him in another kiss, which he deepened.

It was only a single moment, absolutely forbidden and beautiful.

The kiss ended all too soon, with Hunter whispering a low “good night” before heading for his rack to get a few hours of sleep. You remained in the cockpit, caught up in the thrill of what happened, yet completely torn.

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you recalled what happened next. It was right after returning from that mission that the Council had decided to reassign you to assist another jedi in an entirely different system.

That was the end of your time with the Batch during the Clone Wars. You couldn’t protest the Council’s decision without betraying some sort of attachment. Even if the Council didn’t pick up on anything romantic, they still wouldn’t be so keen on your preference of the squad over where duty called you. The Council’s decision had come so quickly that part of you feared that somehow they knew.

So you carried out orders without so much as a hesitation. You didn’t reach out to Hunter, fearful that he would also be at risk somehow. Time passed. The war came to an end.

You’d barely escaped the former chancellor’s horrid order. And after so many months on your own, wondering where your squad was in all this mess, assuming the worst, you ran into Rex, and he informed you of his discovery of them, the removal of their chips, and their whereabouts.

It was only a matter of a few rotations before you found yourself at Cid’s Parlor.

There was no telling how your arrival would be received. Would they be angry? Hurt? Would they be glad to see you? You imagined that the others would be glad, at least.

The moment had arrived. The first one you saw was Wrecker, towering over everyone else in the cantina as he made his way out from the back. He spotted you right away, and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Hey! It’s ________!”

He emerged from the crowd with Hunter just in front of him, followed by Tech. Another trooper walked out after him that you didn’t recognize and also a young girl.

“Ah, _________” Tech said in recognition. “I am pleased to see you alive and well, considering the events concluding the war.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see all of you,” you replied warmly. “It’s like coming home.” You mustered the courage to meet Hunter’s eyes, hoping you’d find a similar welcome. His gaze was piercing, like a single lamp in the dark- comforting, safe, filling you with relief.

It was true. That seedy parlor, where you’d never been before, that was full of strangers already felt like home.

Even so, Hunter suggested the lot of you take the reunion back to the Marauder to avoid drawing any attention to you. Your mind was buzzing the entire time with questions; both about the new faces you saw amongst your squad as well as the one face that you didn’t see. Where was Crosshair?

Tech updated you on the sharpshooter’s absence in a brief, but thorough explanation. You were saddened to hear of these events, but the group seemed somewhat hopeful that their brother didn’t appear entirely lost.

The other trooper, who you presumed to be a newer member of the squad, looked rather curious.

“Echo, this is ________, a friend. She served with us on several missions during the war,” Hunter introduced.

“Served?” Echo repeated. “Then that would make you a…”

“A jedi,” you uttered quietly. “Yes.”

He stood up straight and saluted with his scomp arm. “It’s an honor. My name is Echo. I joined the squad after a rescue mission on Skako.”

“And this is Omega,” Hunter gestured toward the girl. “Our newest member.”

“Hello!” she gave a cheerful wave. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep!” Wrecker butted in, wrapping you up in a big hug. “You’re our favorite jedi, after all!” He set you down and gave you a playful nudge with his elbow, which almost sent you stumbling. “We missed you! Especially Hunter here.”

The comment piqued your interest. Hunter gave Wrecker one of his signature looks, silently telling him to drop it. Tech observed the interaction, noting it while adjusting his goggles. Echo’s gaze darted back and forth between you and Hunter, understanding flashing in them. Omega looked confused, but didn’t voice it.

You nearly collapsed into ruins from embarrassment.

Wrecker suddenly scratched his head. “ Uhhh, that reminds me. Tech, d’you remember the other day? I said I wanted to show you the thing.”

“I do not recall-”

“The thing. It’s, uh, in Cid’s. But we have to go see it. Now.”

Echo seemed to catch on to some inside cue because he quickly got Tech’s attention and nodded his head in the direction of the exit ramp.

“Ah. Indeed.”

“You too, Omega!” Wrecker added, ushering the girl outside. You clasped a hand over your mouth to hide your humor while the group departed. You could hear Omega’s little voice asking, “what’s going on?” before they were out of earshot.

Hunter gave a long and heavy sigh, shaking his head, before his eyes met yours again.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said. “They’re all trouble.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled.

An awkward silence fell over the both of you. It wasn’t like you expected things to fall back into place, to pick up right where you’d left off. But with how the others acted, you expected Hunter to say something.

After all that time…There he was. Safe and sound. Standing just a few feet in front of you.

“Hunter, I-”

“Look-”

Both of you fell silent again, and Hunter took the initiative to speak first. His voice was low, a bit shaky. “I’m glad you’re alright. You don’t know how worried I was- we all were.”

“I was worried about all of you,” you replied. “I saw what the chips did to troopers. It’s terrible. I was so relieved to find Rex, and when he told me that he’d been in contact with you… I can’t even say how I felt. I’ve missed you so much!” Your voice broke, and Hunter stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you.

The low rumble of his voice was soothing against your ear as he held you tighter. “I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you after I was reassigned. After what happened that night after our last mission…”

“It’s alright. Neither did I. I guess…neither of us were in a place to do anything about it then. We had our obligations.”

Had obligations. Past tense.

“But just know that I’ve thought about you every day since then,” he said. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Oh, Hunter,” you cried. “Me too.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he pulled away slightly. “You know, if this weren’t to happen, there’s a place for you here. With the squad. That’s undeniable.”

You met his eyes, too happy to care about the tears on your face. His gaze seemed to soften at the sight of them, and he reached up to brush them away.

“I didn’t think it was,” you chuckled tearfully. “I do want to be with the squad, and I want to be with you.”

A soft smile graced his features, the kind of smile you’d only seen a few times. One of them was when he first and last kissed you. Hunter leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, before closing the short distance entirely.

His arms enveloped you, pulling you tighter against his frame while he kissed you with simmering passion. You grasped his broad shoulders to ground yourself, and yet it only sent you higher.

Your eyes followed the contours of his face while you paused the dance of your lips to catch your breath, tracing the slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, and the edge of his jawline. Amidst the haze of his close proximity, you’d never seen him so clearly.

You were glowing, luminous. So utterly content, and yet, your lips tingled with the desire to be kissed again.

Heavy footsteps on the ramp jolted you from the moment. Before you and Hunter could separate to save face, Wrecker poked his head inside the Marauder, grinning.

“I knew it! All it took was fifteen minutes.”

“Actually,” Tech’s voice spoke up a little farther down matter-of-factly. You could imagine him holding up his index finger pointedly. “It was approximately twenty.”

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campoverlook-if · 1 month

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Progress Update #4// 4/3/24

Hey everyone, just wanted to update you all on the story.

I've started a new process for the past few days where I write for two hours and then take fifteen-thirty minute breaks in between. I'm still blanking on what to write for a section sometimes, but I'm really trying not to have grayed out choices again. That was NOT fun.

Still, the writing process shouldn't be forced, but sometimes you just really need to kick your own ass and grab that text file by the ears. Plus, this is the most productive I've felt since getting my wisdom teeth removed.

In celebration of this new bout of inspiration, here's a sneak peek of an upcoming scene you may encounter in the update.

Alright, that's it. This girl can't just bully you away because she doesn't like you. You hadn't even done anything when she first started acting nasty towards you. Yes, you may have walked away in the middle of a conversation, but she had been so…aggressive. You weren't just going to stand there and take it, and you definitely weren't going to start now. So, you take a step closer to Claire, giving her a leveled glare of your own. "Last time I checked, this table doesn't belong to you." Tension quickly fills the air around the two of you. Claire doesn't respond to your retort, but she doesn't need to. Her body language gives you all the information you need to know.

Ooooh boi, what the hell did you do to make Claire this mad at you. And on the first day? Tragic.

Along with that we'll be getting into a few things before finally ending episode 1:

Reworked the gender system of the counselors. Now you can choose from the beginning how you want them to be.

Added the choice to be non-binary (a new batch of campers, hooyay!). Also need to add onto scenes with Asher, Claire, and Lucas.

Meeting the final two counselors (Ruby and Silas).

An added scene with E for returning MCs during your walk to the mess hall.

Going through orientation, including a fun scavenger hunt (Uncle Robert said it would be fun, don't believe him).

A small scene with your new roommates in your cabins.

I'm so excited just thinking about it, and I'm the one writing the dang story.

If you hadn't seen it yet, I answered an ask a little bit ago about doing visuals for the blog. I'm not the best at visual media (that's more my mother's thing) but I can use a character maker like a mf if I have too.

It was kinda nice, a little limiting, but it was surprisingly helpful for me to have it. I've thought about how these characters look for so long it's strange to suddenly see them brought to life in any type of way except text. The character bios have been updated with these pictures now.

(UPDATE: LITERALLY MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DECISION: SLEEP DEPRIVED AF BEHAVIOR)

So, I wrote this update yeaterday and was planning for it to just post through queue like I normally do, but the situation has changed. The demo will be updated again, however the stopping point is literally the same. The only major changes are the gender system, adding being non-binary, and having everything on one file (pray for me). The stopping point is still the same.

All in all the word count is now at this point: 57k (W/O Code), 14K (average). Not a huge jump average wise, but I'm happy anyway.

Link to demo here.

(END OF EMERGENCY UPDATE)

That's all I wanted to talk about for now, if you run into any bugs just let me know and I'll fix it lickity split.

See you all on the next update!

P.S. - I love it when new people follow and only like the posts of certain counselors. I know who you're into now ;).

#camp overlook #update #interactive fiction #if wip #updates

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 9 months

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Racing Hearts - Part 5 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: The relationship between you and Charles is getting more serious, but you still have some doubts. Especially with a new encounter with his ex, but then you get help from an unexpected side.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: Nakedness, Fluff

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: So here we go... I'm so excited for MONZA! Forza tifosi!

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe, @faithm120601, @needtokeepfeelingsincheck, @bbygrllllllll

The next day, after Charles had left for some meetings in the paddock, you headed to Sofia's home. You were both still buzzing from your movie night and made plans to meet up later in the day. As you entered Sofia's apartment, you heard some commotion and laughter coming from the kitchen.

"Sof, are you here... OH MY GOD!" you exclaimed, turning around quickly and covering your eyes.

You had walked in on a surprising scene – Carlos Sainz and Sofia, completely naked, entangled with each other on the floor.

"What... What the hell are you doing?" you asked, trying to keep a straight face but couldn't help chuckling a little.

Sofia laughed mischievously. "What does it look like?"

"I know what it looks like, but... what?" you inquired, still trying to avert your gaze, but then realizing they were both still on the floor in their birthday suits. "Could you please just... cover yourselves?"

"Y/N?" Sofia asked.

"What?"

"The blankets?" Sofia pointed to the blankets on the nearby couch. You quickly pulled down two blankets and tossed them to Sofia and Carlos. You heard them rustling to cover themselves.

"Okay, you can look now," Sofia announced.

You sighed, turned around, and peeked at the almost-covered duo. Then you started laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

"Wow... I... Okay, you know what, never mind. You two are old enough," you said, trying to suppress your giggles, and walked past them toward your room. Before entering, you turned around to Carlos again, his face now as red as a tomato.

"Oh, and Carlos, shouldn't you be somewhere?" you quipped.

The Spaniard looked at his watch, realizing he was late. "Oh, fuck!" He rushed into Sofia's room, leaving you two alone.

Sofia looked at you with an amused raised eyebrow. "Oh, and so it goes," she said with a playful grin.

You shook your head but couldn't stop grinning at your best friend. Carlos hurried back into the living room, now fully dressed.

"I'm so sorry, Hermosa, but I need to go," he said, his words rushed as he took Sofia's hands in his. "He pasado una noche preciosa, hermosa. Espero verte más tarde." (*T: I had a wonderful night, darling. Hope to see you later.) He gave her a quick kiss and then left the apartment in a hurry.

Sofia turned around to you, her cheeks flushed, and simply stated, "OMG," before shaking her hands and jumping around the living room. You chuckled at your best friend's reaction.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N. I... It was... Carlos is..." Sofia struggled to find the right words to describe the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling.

"Okay, why don't you take a shower and get dressed, and then you can tell me everything, okay?" you suggested with a smile, trying to give her friend some time to compose herself. "Charles is expecting us at 1 pm at the paddock."

Sofia nodded enthusiastically and rushed into her room, still buzzing with excitement from her unexpected morning encounter. As you watched your friend bounce around, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the joy Sofia brought into your life. Your day was off to an amusing start.

As Sofia emerged from her room, freshly showered and dressed, she found you flipping through the contents of your suitcase to choose an outfit for the day.

"OMG, Y/N. I just need to tell you this. Carlos and I got so drunk yesterday, and then... well, you saw. That was actually the 5th time... Jeez, that man has his game on," Sofia said with a mixture of excitement, realization, and nervousness.

You grinned, looking over at your friend. "I'm glad you had a good time. It sounds like you two hit it off pretty well."

Sofia blushed a little, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "It was amazing, Y/N. I mean, I didn't expect it at all, but the chemistry was undeniable. And the sex, I mean... Wow!"

"I'm happy for you, Sof," you said sincerely but still amused. "You deserve to have some fun and enjoy yourself."

Sofia sat down on the edge of the bed. "So, what about you and Charles? How was last night?" she asked, eagerly wanting to hear every detail.

You blushed slightly, recalling the beautiful night you spent with Charles. "It was wonderful, Sofia. We had a movie night, cuddled on the couch, and then... well, things got a bit... heated?" you said, and Sofia lifted an eyebrow. "But I stopped it because, you know, I'm not like that," you said, looking at your best friend with a smirk.

"Hey! What is that supposed to mean?" Sofia asked playfully, knowing what you tried to say.

You shook your head and chuckled. "You know what I mean, Sof."

Sofia rolled her eyes and nodded. "Suuure. But Y/N, you guys are so good together. I can see how much he cares about you. Don't let your past experiences hold you back," she encouraged.

"I know, I know. It's just... his career and the public attention, it's a lot to handle," you replied, your brows furrowing with worry. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. I mean, I really, really like him!"

Sofia put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Look, I get that it's overwhelming, but you can't let fear stop you from being happy. Take it one step at a time. Talk to Charles about your concerns and see how he feels. You won't know unless you try."

You nodded, appreciating Sofia's supportive words. "You're right, as always. I just need to open up to him and see where it leads."

"Exactly! And remember, I'm here for you every step of the way," Sofia said with a warm smile.

You hugged her friend. "Thank you, Sofia. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The two of you finished getting ready, discussing race strategy, and joking around, just like they always did.

As you headed to the paddock to join Charles and the rest of the team, you felt a sense of excitement and comfort, knowing that you had your best friend by your side and that you could face whatever the future held, with Charles or not.

You spotted Charles immediately as you walked over to the Ferrari motorhome. He saw you as well and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

"You made it", he said and you smiled.

"Of course."

"Where's Sofia?", he asked, and you looked over your shoulder. Sofia was just there a second ago.

"Uh, she was just here..."

Charles smiled warmly at you. "How was your morning?"

You chuckled as you thought about it. "Oh, it was quite eventful", you grinned, and Charles looked at her, amused.

Just as he wanted to ask what it was about, a blonde woman in a Ferrari outfit came running up to you. "Charles! Riunione d'emergenza. Fred vuole vedervi subito", she said in Italian.

You didn't understand it, but you knew that it was important. Charles looked briefly at you and then at the woman.

"Arrivo subito. Gianna, puoi farmi un favore?", he asked and the woman nodded. "This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Gianna, my assistant. Gianna, could you show Y/N up to the lounge and explain everything?"

Gianna nodded again. "Sure," she answered with a thick Italian accent.

You looked at Charles, confused. You were supposed to spend some time together.

Charles looked at you apologetic. "I'm so sorry, they have an emergency meeting I need to attend. I will see you later, okay?" He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and then left in the direction of the offices. You looked after him, nodding.

Gianna led you into the motorhome and then upstairs into a lounge. There were already a lot of people talking. You cursed and were asking yourself where Sofia is.

"Okay, this is the Ferrari lounge for family and friends. Charles has some meetings now, but he will be back soon", Gianna said, and you looked at her again before you nodded.

You stood alone on the balcony, gazing down at the bustling paddock and the picturesque views of Monaco. You hung your black blazer over the railing and took a deep breath. However, your solitude was quickly interrupted by a familiar and unwelcome voice behind you, making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

"Would you look at that? Charles brought his new pet," Isabella's sharp voice remarked, and you turned around to face her, trying your best to keep her composure.

Isabella glanced you up and down with a condescending sneer. "And look at you... You do know that this is Monaco and not some stray auction, right?" Isabella pointed at your simple blue baggy jeans, with the white crop top and the white high Converse your were wearing.

You took a deep breath, not wanting to stoop to Isabella's level. However, before you could respond, another voice interjected, coming to your defense.

"That's enough, Isabella."

Both you and Isabella turned around, and there stood a blonde-haired woman with a sense of authority that reminded you of your own mother. The woman had friendly eyes that you recognized from somewhere.

Isabella glared at the woman before tossing her hair over her shoulder and strutting away. "Whatever."

You watched Isabella leave and then turned your attention back to the blonde woman. "Thank you," you said with genuine gratitude and a warm smile.

The woman smiled back, extending her hand to you. "Nothing to thank for, chérie. You must be Y/N. I'm Pascale Leclerc, Charles's mother."

Your heart skipped a beat as you shook Pascale's hand. This was Charles's mother – a significant figure in his life. "Uh, yes, that's me," you replied nervously.

"Charles told me a lot about you, Y/N. You've made quite the impression on my son," Pascale said, looking you over with a keen eye.

Feeling slightly self-conscious under Pascale's gaze, you knew that mothers would always be protective of their sons, especially when they were famous and wealthy. The concern of a potential gold digger was not unwarranted.

"I really care about Charles, Mrs. Leclerc," you said sincerely, wanting to reassure her that your feelings for Charles were genuine.

Pascale smiled warmly, seeming to appreciate your sincerity. "I can see that, chérie. I just want to make sure my son is happy and cared for. His career brings enough challenges, and I worry about the added pressure it might put on a relationship."

"I understand, and I assure you that my feelings for Charles are real," you replied earnestly. "I don't want anything from him other than to be there for him and support him in whatever way I can."

"I believe you, Y/N," Pascale said, her smile softening. "Charles is a wonderful young man, and I can see how much he cares about you too. Just take good care of each other, okay?"

You nodded, feeling relieved and grateful for Pascale's understanding. "I will, Mrs. Leclerc. I promise."

"I trust you, chérie," Pascale said warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"I can see you two have met", another voice popped up behind them, and walking through the crowd is Lorenzo. He smiled at his mother and gave her a kiss on each cheek before he repeated it with you. "Did you already scare the hell out of her, Maman?" Lorenzo chuckled.

Pascale looked at you and then back at her oldest son. "I don't think this one is scared easily if she is willing to take on the wrath of one Isabella Rossi. I'm impressed", Pascale said, and you chuckled.

Lorenzo put a proud arm around your shoulder. "It really is impressive, right, Maman? Every other girl would run for the hills. But I guess my brother enchanted her too much."

You laughed at Lorenzo's teasing of Charles and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. You talked to Pascale and Lorenzo for a while when suddenly an arm wrapped around your waist.

"I can see you met my Mom." It was Charles who crept up to you. He whispered in your ear and then put a quick kiss on your cheek before greeting his mother.

You smiled sheepishly at Charles. "I did. She saved me from you-know-who." You winked at Charles, and he knew exactly who you were talking about.

"I should've known that she would be here. I'm sorry", Charles apologized, but you just put a hand on his arm.

"No need to apologize. I need to learn to live with her."

You smiled and Charles was happy that you didn't take it to heart. Then he looked around. "Where is Sofia?" you averted your gaze quickly, and Charles knew that something was up immediately. "Y/N?"

Now you looked back at him. "Well..." you said innocently. "I guess she might be with Carlos..."

"With Carlos? Why would she be with... oh..." Charles raised an eyebrow, connecting the dots. "Oh, I see. Well, I hope they're having a good time," he said with a smirk, trying not to show any hint of concern.

You chuckled softly, knowing that Charles was probably feeling a mix of amusement and protective brotherly instincts. "They seemed to hit it off pretty well," you replied, nudging him playfully.

Lorenzo joined in on the teasing. "Looks like love is in the air, eh, little brother?" he said, giving Charles a friendly pat on the back.

You chuckled. "I'm not so sure about that, Lorenzo. I know Sofia, and it could be just a little fling as easily."

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile at the playful banter. "All right, enough about Sofia and Carlos," he said, taking your hand in his. "I wanted to show you the garage and my car before FP1."

He dragged you along, and you turned around to wave at his brother and mother. "Goodbye, Mrs. Leclerc. It was really nice to meet you."

Pascale waved at you, too, and Charles and you disappeared downstairs. He led you through the paddock and then into the pitlane, where all the garages were. When they arrived at the Ferrari garage, you already saw Carlos' and Charles' garages.

People were busy working all around, updating the car and making some more adjustments, as Charles led you through the people and into a small room.

"This is my locker room in the garage. It's for preparing for the race in the last minutes and doing some last-minute workout, etc."

Just at that moment, it knocked, and a man in his thirties with black hair and dark eyes entered. "Ah, Charles. Eccoti qui! Ti stavo cercando. Oh, chi è?", the man said in Italian, and you looked at Charles.

"Andrea, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Andrea, my athletic trainer, and a good friend. He has been with me for a long time."

Andrea smiled and extended his hand for you to shake, which you did. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. Is this your first time at a Formula 1 race?"

You nodded. "Yes, it is. And it's really... overwhelming."

"I can imagine that", Andrea chuckled and turned to Charles again. "Listen, I want you to be changed and ready for the workout in 10 minutes. Gianna can take her upstairs so she can watch. FP1 starts in 45 minutes." Then he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Charles nodded and looked at you. "I hope that's okay for you?"

"Sure..." you replied and looked around. You were alone in Charles's small locker room, so you looked at him mischievously. Then you took a step closer to him, and he looked down at you with a grin on his face since he realized what you were up to.

He put his hand on your cheek and then pressed his lips lightly to yours, giving you a short but passionate kiss.

"I am so fucking happy that you are here", he whispers to your lips, and a wide smile grew on your lips before you kissed him again.

The moment between Charles and you was interrupted by Andrea clearing his throat, and you both pulled away, chuckling softly.

"Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds," Andrea said with a playful grin, "but we've got a schedule to keep."

You blushed slightly, feeling a mixture of excitement and shyness at the affectionate display in front of Charles's trainer. "Of course, I don't want to keep you from your preparations," you said with a small smile.

Charles squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, it's all part of the experience," he replied, gazing fondly at you.

As you followed Gianna to the observation area, you felt a surge of emotions. Watching Charles and the team in action was awe-inspiring, and you couldn't help but feel proud and grateful to be a part of this unique world.

From the observation area, you watched Charles effortlessly navigate the track during FP1, pushing his car to its limits. The precision, speed, and skill displayed by the drivers were incredible. As the session came to an end, you noticed Charles exchanging nods and gestures with his teammates, communicating silently about the car's performance.

After FP1, you joined Charles and Andrea in the garage. They were busy discussing the car's setup and performance, and Charles looked focused and determined.

"You did great out there," you said, smiling warmly at him.

Charles grinned back at her. "Thanks, Y/N. It's always a thrill being on the track," he replied, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

A New Mystery Woman on the F1 Grid? Charles Leclerc's Intriguing Companion Sparks Curiosity

Monaco – The Formula 1 paddock is abuzz with speculation as Charles Leclerc, the talented Ferrari driver, was seen in the company of a mysterious beauty during the Monaco Grand Prix festivities. Leclerc, known for his skill on the track and his enigmatic persona off it, was spotted sharing intimate moments with the unidentified woman, igniting a wave of curiosity among fans and media alike.

The duo's first public appearance together took place on Leclerc's luxurious yacht, where they were photographed sharing a passionate kiss. The sighting sparked a flurry of rumors, leaving many to wonder about the identity of the captivating newcomer in the F1 scene.

Adding fuel to the intrigue, the mystery woman was once again seen by Leclerc's side in the bustling paddock of the Monaco GP. While Leclerc appeared unfazed by the attention, the enigmatic beauty was photographed attempting to shield her face from the prying lenses of eager photographers.

Her discreet demeanor and attempts to avoid the spotlight have only heightened curiosity surrounding her identity. Fans and media outlets are left speculating about her background, interests, and connection to the talented Monegasque driver.

As the Monaco Grand Prix unfolds on the iconic street circuit, all eyes are on Leclerc's on-track performance, as well as the unfolding narrative of this newfound companionship. Will the identity of this captivating mystery woman be unveiled, or will she continue to remain shrouded in secrecy, leaving fans to piece together the puzzle of her connection to Charles Leclerc?

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x Reader #Charles Leclerc Fanfic #Formula 1 x reader #Formula 1 #Charles Leclerc Romance #Formula 1 Romance #Ordinary x Celebrity #Celebrity relationship #Racing Hearts #Kim writes again

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kyopmi · 2 years

Text

♡ — unspoken facts

sakusa kiyoomi finds himself wandering into the apartment he can’t wait to move into.

1,343 fluffy, unedited words based on this ask!

kiyoomi knows you're not due to move in until next week, that's what you both agreed on, and he's usually not one to do things on a whim but tonight he's restless and full of thoughts. he thinks about how far you've come since your first meeting almost a year ago, about how nervous he was when he asked you out, about how nervous he was on your first date, about how nervous he was the first time you actually came to watch his match in person (he scored the most points out of everyone that day), about how nervous he was when, last month, he proposed the offer of moving in together. but now he's not nervous anymore. he's excited.

and before he knows it, kiyoomi is putting on his shoes and pulling on a jacket, and he lets his feet lead him to the apartment that the both of you officially own, his hand shoved in the pocket of his jacket tightly gripping his copy of the key. he never wants to let it go, he thinks, never wants to let you go.

as he gets off the elevator and approaches the front door, he's met with muffled sounds he can hear through the front door. confused, he double checks that he has the right floor and the right unit, and his heart drops when he realizes that he does.

all the alarms in his mind are going off as he essentially freezes in place. after all, there never were any instructions on what to do if there's an intruder in your apartment that you hadn't moved into yet. should he just go in? should he call the cops? should he call you?

no, definitely not call you, at least not right now. he doesn't want to possibly wake you up and scare you shitless at 12 am on a thursday.

kiyoomi’s still unsure on what to do, hand hovering above the door handle and teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek. he can hear his heartbeat thumping hard in his ear, something he typically experiences only during grueling practices and matches.

finally, he sucks in a deep breath and steps back from the door, careful to keep quiet in order not to alarm whoever is behind the door. his hand slips back into his pocket to grab his phone and his fingers quickly dial the emergency hotline number and he–

"...sakusa kiyoomi lands an incredible spike! the MSBY Black Jackals takes the third set and officially wins the match!"

hold on — are the intruders... watching his match?

confused is an understatement to what he's feeling. he wonders if it's just a coincidence that they happen to be tuning into one of his matches, or if it's some kind of delusional, stalker fan who's managed to get a hold of his personal information. the sound of the volleyball commentator fades out and kiyoomi listens hard once more. finally, he hears it — a familiar hushed giggle that immediately quells all his worries.

oh, it's definitely one of his fans. in fact, one that he knows quite well.

all his previous anxiety fizzles out like a candle and is replaced with a huff of annoyance as he shoves his phone back in his pocket, and immediately sticks his key in the keyhole and unlocks the door before he makes his way inside.

"what the hell are you doing here?"

you let out something that's between a squawk and a scream when the one and only sakusa kiyoomi all but barges into what would be the living room and growls out his question. the sudden intrusion makes you jump and sends your heart rate into a frenzy.

"kiyoomi!" you yelp, catching your breath, "god - you almost gave me a heart attack!"

your boyfriend doesn't look too amused at your response. "i gave you a heart attack? i thought someone broke in here!" he retorts, "i was going to call the cops on you."

kiyoomi sighs and walks towards your figure, sitting down next to you on the floor. "what are you doing here, y/n?" he asks again, gentler this time and genuinely curious.

you shift to face him but you're not looking in his eyes, choosing instead to take his hand in yours - which he gladly accepts - and instead focus on the way your fingers intertwine together as your heartbeat gradually stabilizes. "i could ask you the same thing, you know," you reply.

kiyoomi doesn't fail to notice the faint smile growing on your lips and he can't help but mirror it on his own. "i guess that's fair," he hums, giving your hand a comforting squeeze. "i, uh, i'm not even sure why i'm here," he continues, voice trailing off and getting quieter, "i mean, it's not that i don't want to be here but i just– couldn't sleep and–"

"it's okay, kiyoomi." you finally look up at him, fondly staring into his deep brown irises. "i know. me, too," you admit, voice just loud enough for him.

while he would usually tense up at the mere thought of receiving attention from another, kiyoomi finds himself uncharacteristically relaxing under your gaze.

the two of you wordlessly agree to let the conversation go, the shared silence between you and kiyoomi saying more than any of you can voice out. it's not long before he's tugging you closer to settle on his lap – another unspoken fact that it's your favorite place in the world.

your back molds into his chest perfectly and he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth you never fail to find solace in. the apartment is soundless with the exception of you and kiyoomi’s breathing. there’s not much, but you marvel at the dimly-lit space you’re in. sitting on the floor with no cushion or heating for the both of you, you should be feeling the discomfort and the urge to move away, preferably to your or his current abode where there’s a bed and covers to snuggle under, yet neither of you make any attempt to even shift from your position, much less pull away from one another. you’re surrounded by unopened boxes and no actual assembled furniture, and neither of you have decided on putting what where, but you feel your heart pick up speed again, and it's as if kiyoomi senses it, too.

"what are you thinking of, love?" he murmurs softly into your ear, smiling at the way you shy away from his ticklish breath and leaning down to pepper kisses on the back of your neck, his ministrations slowly but surely easing you into a serenity.

"just excited," you say, sighing dreamily. "in a week, we'll be moved in and this place is going to be, you know, ours."

you feel his arms tighten around you. "ours," he repeats, letting the word roll off his tongue as if he's testing it out. he places another gentle kiss on the top of your head. "i love the sound of that."

there are two more unspoken facts between you and kiyoomi.

one, is that it doesn’t matter that this apartment you’re moving into is perfectly located between your respective workplaces, or that it’s not too big nor is it too small, or it has the perfect view overlooking the cityscape, or it has a cozy kitchen you can’t wait to slow-dance to cheesy love songs in — it’s that you’re moving in with each other and not anyone else.

and two, is the i love you’s weaved into the way your legs are tangled together, the way kiyoomi doesn’t loosen his grip for even a moment, and the way you can soundly fall asleep in his arms, even in the middle of an empty room.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #&works

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amuseoffyre · 3 months

Text

I've waxed lyrical before about the significance of beaches in OFMD a lot and now on my S2 rewatch, that theme is powerful. It's the place where the land and the sea meet, where two binaries overlap and blend together, where two worlds collide.

The fact that Stede and Ed's first kiss happens on a beach is So Much because Ed was told by Chauncey that "he's from my world, not yours". Here they are, caught somewhere between their worlds, not quite part of either anymore. (also, ware the Symbolic Sky! It has meaning)

Ed faces another big life choice right by that same place. He could have run on his own, but instead, this is when he returns to the ship, sliding back into the well worn rut that has been his life for decades. He tries to change it, but it doesn't end well.

And of course, the very next episode, Stede's own struggle with himself and his identity is (partially) resolved and he takes his first steps into his new life on a beach as well.

ngl, I adore the fact they started S2 with Stede on a beach again. There's an element of him trying to make up for his departure in 1x09. Ed told him to meet him at the beach and in their reunion, in Stede's wishful fantasy, not only is it a beach, but at a romantic golden sunset.

More significantly, they meet right on the tideline, where sea and land meet, the boundary between the two places. Not on the dry sand. Not in the sea. Right in the middle. Two worlds colliding again :)

The fact we jump from Stede's dream to Stede running to a real beach to write his letters and send his love out into the waves makes me think all his time spent at the beach is him trying to make amends again for the leaving Ed waiting for him on the beach alone.

Then we get into the metaphysical in Ed's purgatory, where Edward Teach, born on a beach, is found washed up on the tideline. Boundaries, liminal spaces, places that are both there and not. A perfect image of a space between living and death for a man who spent a life at sea.

Two conversations there also happen on the beach:

- Ed trying to get some kind of reaction about the stuff he's done and trying to articulate (but not aloud) that he feels bad about it - Ed realising exactly where he is and the choice ahead of him and how his actions impact on it

I'm a bit uncertain whether the fisherman sequence is a sea channel or a river, but either way, Ed ends up standing on the bank, contemplating life-stuff again (and compares himself to a wave again). He does end up on the water's edge a lot, whether on the shore or on docks.

And now we get to the big one - when he stops running from himself and chooses to reclaim his leathers and fight for the man he loves, where else could he emerge but at the place where boundaries blur and binaries are lost in the seafoam?

There's so much going on with the symbolism of Stede throwing his love in the sea and Ed doing the same with fears/hopes, but this moment, when Ed has reclaimed what he cast aside and emerged from the sea, determined and ready to act, Stede's love is there waiting for him 😍

Something something both of them meeting in the same space, but it's a space with no boundaries or blurring or misunderstanding, because they're both finally on the same page (and also not a super wet beach so Rhys wouldn't hurt his ankle again 😅)

Got to say given the significance of the beach in the Gravy Basket and this being almost exactly the same beach, I Am Sus, especially re. Izzy's fate. (Yes, I know, filming here was a technical thing, but I am always sus with a show with canon resurrections, ghosts and purgatory)

And, of course, the final beach, where Edward Teach is reborn to try and live how he wants to live instead of how life tells him to. Will it go smooth? Of course not. But they're gonna give it a go and still be close to that place that was home as well.

And last, but by no means least, this shot.

So, several fun facts:

our man is buried at the boundary of land and sea

old myths have seagulls as the souls of the dead

psychopomps (guides for the souls of the dead, often in animal/bird form) lead souls across boundaries

Buttons in love with the sea

a Sea Goddess is part of our lore- Calypso - who's name means "hiding the knowledge"

the Gravy Basket was about knowledge hidden in plain sight

"that's what I learned in the basket"

TLDR: seawitch who knows the basket from his own past experience in it and loves the Sea (goddess) here to guide soul out the basket

#ofmd #ofmd meta

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rebsrising · 1 year

Text

Abundance - kastle

read on ao3

Karen’s flight leaves in six hours.

She should be home, sleeping or doing some last-minute researching or repacking her bag because there’s no way she got everything she needs in the duffel she sent ahead yesterday.

She should be doing anything but tracking down his address.

She should be doing anything but standing at Frank’s apartment door.

But here she finds herself, desperate to see him, needing him to know she’s leaving, needing him to know where she’ll be. Needing. So desperately needing.

The door opens, and suddenly he’s there. She doesn’t even know what she tells him about her trip. The worlds tumble out without her thinking about them at all. She is too focused on him, scanning his face for changes, taking in the way he moves and holds himself. And then the supposed reason she came here is over, and she’s left hesitating in his doorway as he’s looking down at her, standing so close she can’t think of anything at all.

She’s waiting for him, desperately waiting for him to close the gap.

Her hand has found its way to his chest, and slowly she uses it to prop herself up higher against him until their lips line up.. She allows herself to lift her other hand up to his neck, her face hovering even closer to his, pulled in by his orbit. But she won’t allow herself to go any closer. She wants to know that he wants this. That he chooses her…

She waits, her breath shallow, eyes closed, standing on a precipice, wanting to jump.

She could swear he’s leaning in, she can feel his breath warm against her cheek, coming as quickly as hers is. But her lips remain untouched. The empty air is a painful absence.

She opens her eyes slightly, trying to look into his, trying to spot even the faintest hint of his thoughts in their darkness. But she’s too close to him. Always too close but never close enough.

After another agonizing moment, she sighs in defeat, a heaving breath that weighs her whole body down. Her feet flatten from where she had risen on her toes, and slowly she pulls her hands back, extricating herself from him in the only way she can.

“Goodbye, Frank,” she says, after taking a step back. His eyes meet hers now, his pupils blown wide as he stares at her with that look that is both wild and soft. And yet still contained. Still careful. Too damn careful.

“Goodbye, Karen.”

She turns around before he finishes saying her name. A little embarrassed, a little frustrated, a little heartbroken.

Down the hall she jams the down button on the elevator, hears the old thing whirr and groan its way to his floor before it dings open.

The noise wakes him from a trance of good intentions and undesired restraint.

Karen steps into the small space and stares at its back wall with a shaky hand raised to her lips, waiting to turn until she hears the doors start to close. She doesn’t know what she had been hoping for from this farewell, but she knows she didn’t get it.

And then, just as the doors are coming together, a hand slams between them with a bang, sending them recoiling back open.

Frank steps heavily into the elevator, slapping the emergency stop button as he does. And then he stills. His eyes are still wide and wild, focusing in on her, but this time there’s a greater openness to them than she’s ever seen before. He steps toward her gently, his hand rising slowly, a single finger lifting the strap of her bag and dropping it on the ground. He cups her face in both hands, and for a moment simply stares at her. When he does move again, it’s slow, intentional, as he leans in and presses his lips to her forehead. He follows the line of her nose to press a soft kiss and its tip. And then, finally, finally, his lips find hers.

She’s enveloped in the tenderness of him, his mouth soft and warm against hers. He holds them there, both of them sinking into the sensation before deepening the kiss, and all at once he crashes like a wave over her senses. Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling herself into him as he pushes up against her. They melt together, lost in each other.

#karen page #frank castle #kastle #softly #rebswriting

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beefromanoff · 11 months

Text

Going Under Ch. 3

summary: Bucky Barnes is assigned to head the security detail of an internationally beloved singer named Gianna as his next mission.

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: want to want me - jason derulo

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: this is my first ever fanfic, so please be kind! I have so many chapters written but not edited, so prepare for spam. enjoy xoxo

chapter list/links - xo

__________________________________________

chapter 3

Just like all the nights before, Bucky stood backstage, watching as Gianna finished her performance of the night. She had sung her heart out, and the crowd had gone wild. Night after night, it was the same story. Bucky had never seen anything like it - the energy and excitement in the room were palpable. Every city, every stadium, every crowd felt more electric than the last.

As the final notes of the song faded away, Gianna did her signature blown kiss and bow, and stepped offstage, her face flushed and her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat. Bucky was there to meet her, offering her a bottle of water and a towel.

"Great job out there," he said, his voice low and reassuring, eyes glancing over her shoulder for any fans who may choose to rush the stage like the show in Atlanta.

Gianna smiled weakly, taking the water downing half of it immediately. "Thanks. I'm exhausted," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He knew she tried to conserve her voice between shows, especially over a month into their tour. It proved to be difficult for her, as someone who loved to talk. She gave it a valiant effort, though. It was endearing.

Bucky nodded, leading her to a private dressing room with his hand on the small of her back. He walked between her and the long string of stage hands and tour crew, serving as a silent barrier to keep anyone from talking to her in her daze. She slipped into the room and he shut the door, resuming his position outside.

After a moment, the door cracked open again and Gianna’s head poked out. “Can you unzip me?” Her green eyes were earnest and wide. “I don’t know where Kate is, she must have already gone back to the bus.”

“I uh,” Bucky paused, looking around the hallway for someone, preferably another woman, to jump in. Nothing but stagehands winding cords around their wrists and pushing equipment carts. Turning back to Gianna, he said “Of course.”

To protect her privacy, he slipped into the room. She brushed her strawberry curls aside, now adorably decorated with the ringlets of her natural hair that curled against her sweaty neck during the show. He reached for the zipper between her shoulder blades and the zipper clinked against his metal thumb when he pinched and slid it down. He was careful to avoid touching her skin and took a step back as soon as the zipped reached the end of the track.

“There you go.” He grumbled, discomfort obvious in his voice. “Anything else?”

Gianna turned and saw him looking straight at the floor, wondering if the flush she saw in his cheeks was real or her imagination. “No sir. Thank you.” She smiled softly at him.

As he stepped to the door, he turned back and met her eyes. “Just Bucky,” he said, smiling as he disappeared through it.

After she had cleaned up, and changed into her signature sweat set, she emerged from the green room holding her duffle bag and heels. Bucky held his hand out for the duffel and she took it, thanking him even though this was at least the thirtieth time they had gone through this exact exchange. They walked in silence through the dark halls underneath the stadium until they exited to the bus waiting outside. Bucky helped Gianna up the steps to the tour bus, making sure that she was settled in before taking his place at the front of the vehicle. He sat with his back to the wall, eyes darting around the dark bus. As they drove through the night, Bucky couldn't help but think about Gianna's life.

She was a spectacle, a pop star who was adored by millions of fans around the world. Night after night, she stood in front of screaming crowds, and never seemed to crack under the pressure. Every time they ran into a gaggle of fans at the airport or in line to get coffee, she always paused to take photos and thank each of them for their support. He couldn’t imagine a worse existence. Well - nevermind. He quickly shut down his memories as they threatened to break into the forefront of his mind. Although his trauma still weighed heavily on him, he appreciated the general anonymity he was able to maintain these days. Gianna didn’t seem to have anywhere to hide where the world wouldn’t come to find her. He hoped that his presence on the tour brought her some semblance of comfort and privacy. She deserved it. He related to her on a level he didn’t expect to. She was just a person, someone who was vulnerable and alone in a world that didn't always understand her. She lived every day fitting into a role that seemed to have been defined for her. He felt a pang of sadness as his ears picked up the first deep breath coming from her bunk, indicating that she’d drifted off to sleep.

Bucky realized that he wanted to be more than just her security detail. He wanted to be her friend, someone she could trust and confide in. Someone who would be there for her no matter what. He had watched almost every second of her life play out over the last several weeks, and saw how shockingly little meaningful interaction she had with anyone. She was around hundreds of thousands of people each day, and he couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had asked how her day was going. Guilt pooled in his stomach as he realized he’d been pretty standoffish towards her as well, justifying it as “out of his job description.”

Several hours and several hundred miles later, they arrived at their next destination. Bucky stood to help Gianna off the bus and get her into her hotel room.

“Gianna?” He breathed into the hallway, feeling bad that she’d only been asleep for a few hours and already had to be up soon for her first rehearsal. Her heavy breathing told him she was deep in her sleep, and he made a snap decision.

Bucky tugged back the curtain hiding her bunk and slid his hands underneath her, gently extracting her from the bed. She sighed but didn’t stir. He balanced her against his chest with his vibranium arm firmly underneath her and grabbed the straps of her duffel bag with his right. He repositioned her into a more relaxed bridal-style carry and walked off the bus.

Gianna’s manager, Tom, looked up from his phone as Bucky carried her off the bus. He gave a knowing smile and nod to Bucky, as he tucked two sets of room keys into the pocket of Bucky’s jacket.

Arriving at their floor, Bucky awkwardly maneuvered Gianna against his chest so he could slide the room key from his pocket into the door. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he laid her down on the king sized bed and debated whether it was crossing a line to tuck her into the plush bedding. Rolling his eyes at himself, he yanked at the white linens tucked tightly around the bed and laid them over her body, curled into a ball in the middle of the mattress. She looked so small, so innocent laying there. Bucky turned to walk across the hall to his room just as the first beam of sun began to peek through the curtains.

As he lay in bed, Bucky realized that he was starting to care for Gianna in a way that went beyond his duty as a security detail. He wanted to protect her, not just from physical harm, but from the loneliness and isolation that came with being a star of her notoriety.

He knew that it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to be there for her. No matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #winter solider x reader #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier #avengers

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fwb-anon · 3 months

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♡ dear diary… ✁࿓ (010)

dear diary,

toge is pregnant.

wait, let me explain: we fucked. it was good, we beat our previous record and went up to nineteen rounds (not in a row, though). i came at least three or four times deep inside him, twice on his pussy, only once in his ass, and i lost count for his face and stomach.

that was a month and a half ago.

just a few hours ago, he woke me up and told me he was late. at first i didn't understand. i thought he was talking about homework. then he told me "i should have gotten my periods already". so i went back to sleep. and then, i realised.

so i asked him, you know, how long it'd been. he said "more than a month". so i got up, put one boot and one converse on, some boxers, and told him to wait there and drink a lot so he'd be ready to piss. then, i ran to the drugstore.

we were in the middle of the night (i know that because on the way back i saw yuuji, who was leaving a party with the basketball team. he looked worried after seeing the plastic bag from the drugstore, but i didn't have time, so i yelled at him).

toge pissed on a few tests (i think i bought almost the entire aisle). he didn't want me to be with him in the bathroom, so i waited next to the door. he was taking some time, so i knocked and asked him if he needed anything, and he opened the door. he didn't say anything, he just opened the mini-fridge, grabbed two big bottles of water, and went back inside the bathroom.

i thought "that can't be good", so i started playing with my thumbs, trying to not bite my nails, while he was pissing like the niagara falls on the other side of the door.

i don't know how long i waited, but it was long for sure. or maybe it was short but felt long, i lost track of time so i don't really know.

then, i realised he might be dehydrated with the niagara falls and all, so i knocked again and asked him if he needed more water— and he opened the door, and threw lots of tests at my face. usually i would have yelled at him for doing that, even though i like piss and i press on his bladder sometimes— anyway, that's not what we're here to talk about.

he threw tests at me and laid down on the bed. so i looked at the tests: they were all positive. all of them. no exception.

toge is pregnant. i'm going to be a dad.. or not, depending on his choice.

it reminded me of my own dad, who left. he left because of mom, and i don't think he's as much to blame as she is, but still, i said:

"i'm staying. i'm here."

i said that to toge, and i looked at him and he looked at me, so i did our usual sign (like 🤟, it's sign language for "i love you"). but then i saw his hand twitch, and that's when i knew: he was too confused and upset to think rationally, and usually that means he thinks violence is the answer (self-harm, in this case).

so i jumped at him and grabbed his wrists in my hand before he could hit his stomach. he cried in my arms.

i think he freaked out because he's only 22, and that's when his mom got him. i don't know much about his dad, but i do know we don't talk about him. he's taboo. he left, too.

i held toge against me while he cried. i don't know how long i held him, but it was short for sure. or maybe it was long but felt short, i lost track of time so i don't really know.

when he stopped crying, i told him "no matter your decision, i'm staying". i didn't want him to feel like he had to choose our relationship over anything, you know. but that made him cry more, and he said between two hiccups: "i can't— i can't, i just can't— i don't know—" and then he stopped because he was crying too much to talk.

it's something like 8AM now, dear diary. we're having an emergency meeting with shoko, the nurse who's also a doctor who's also toge's medical help. she's a lot of things.

toge is showering and he told me he was better, that's why i'm talking to you right now; i asked him to let the door open though, so i can watch him. he knows i'm asking because he's in a fragile state of mind, and i don't want him to hurt himself. he takes care of me, i take care of him. that's the deal.

i don't know if i want to be a dad. i don't know if you choose that. it's probably a luxury most people don't have... i don't know. maybe we're just unlucky bastards.

✩ ✩ ✩

dear diary, i'm back.

toge isn't pregnant, he just has shit luck: he's anxious about exams and life in general, so he stopped eating (i try to make him eat but he's stubborn), so he's late because of the stress and weight loss. and the tests came back positive because of his meds... and because he has shit luck.

he's reassured, when he hugged me i could feel he was breathing better. he felt small against me, more than usual; i hugged him back, tightly, like we always do.

i think shoko hates us. it's the first time the situation is this bad, but it's maybe the fourth time this year we're asking her for help because of pregnancy scares.

✩ ✩ ✩

toge wanted to celebrate.

he asked for a creampie.

i said no.

#sorry i'm late!!! was busy all day :(#fwb.txt #fwb.nsfw #sukutoge #fwb.dear-diary #this one is interesting to say the least #shoko is here!!! i love her #she hates sukutoge but she loves them individually #you get the dynamic #cw. pregnancy #cw. piss #cw. self harm

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stucksolutions · 21 days

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erwinsvow · 3 years

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𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

summary: you and eren, your boyfriend armin’s best friend, have always had a strange relationship. things take a turn when armin goes home for the weekend, leaving the two of you alone on friday night.

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), guilty reader feels bad, implied infidelity, masturbation, slight dumbification, dacryphilia, daddy kink

word count: 6.8k

author’s note: i once said i would never write for eren, so i guess that was a fat lie! enjoy!

You’re not sure about exactly when you became so comfortable with having Eren around. It was kind of like a two-for-one deal with your boyfriend, Armin, since he was so rarely seen without his best friend at his side. Their majors were so different that they hardly ever had classes together, and so the pair of them made up for lost time by spending all their other time together.

It wasn’t totally out of the blue if Eren would crash on the couch next to you, while you were curled up beside Armin, hands interlaced and head resting softly on his chest. You’d jolt at the impact of Eren—a huge guy compared to anyone’s standards—jumping beside you and disrupting the peaceful intimacy you were sharing with your boyfriend. Armin didn’t seem to be annoyed or frustrated, and so you wouldn’t prove to be, either. You and him would welcome Eren with a laugh, directing him to the leftovers from your take-out and enjoying the company of a man who wasn’t your boyfriend far too much.

It was easy to fall into the trap of it. Maybe Armin was always missing the way Eren’s eyes raked over your figure whenever you’d walk into the room. Maybe he was too enraptured by his marine biology textbook to notice how Eren stared at the supple skin of your exposed thighs when you took a seat next to them, dress hiking up a little or skirt much too short for a study-date with two boys. You were never much of a tease because it was so easy when you and Armin started seeing each other, so natural and comfortable that you didn’t have to try any unusual flirting methods on the golden-haired boy. As a result, he didn’t really know what bubbled under the surface of your skin and all the different thoughts that plagued your mind.

So you think that’s why it was so easy to fall into the trap of it all, making eyes at Eren while your boyfriend sat right next to you. Choosing outfits that had previously been stuffed into the depths of your closet, because you didn’t think Armin would approve. You kept up the facade in front of your lovely boyfriend, though, because at the end of the day, you loved him and no one else. You didn’t want to break his heart by cheating on him with his closest friend, even though the electricity between you and Eren made all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and made goosebumps appear on every inch of the soft skin of your legs that Eren loved to leer at so much. No, because at the end of the day, it was plainly wrong to even think about another man when you had Armin in your life.

That’s what you told yourself when you stopped exchanging glances with Eren, started wearing blue again instead of green, and asked Armin if you two could have more time alone. You thought Armin looked confused, and he was, but for entirely different reasons. While you had been concerned with Eren’s gaze and intentions, Armin had been silently paying attention to his best friend and girlfriend. You thought he was innocent, sure, but he wasn’t stupid. And there wasn’t a thought in Eren’s head that Armin couldn’t figure out well in advance. If you wanted to fuck Eren, all you had to do was ask, but he quickly realized you were trying to be a good little girlfriend again, rather than the devilish slut you had been recently. Well, if you weren’t going to do anything, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Eren had always wondered why you spent so much time with Armin, and by virtue of association, with him. Any other little girlfriend would at least take some time alone to study, but you practically spent every minute at Armin’s side or in their shared apartment. Armin’s explanation of how you didn’t get along with your roommates made so much sense, especially now that you were going to be sleeping in Armin’s room for the weekend while he went back home for a ‘family emergency’.

You had asked Armin if Eren would be going back with him in a certain voice, one that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint as he eavesdropped from his own bedroom. A mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, and excitement? Was that excitement he noted? He wishes he could look into your eyes to tell, but all he can do is listen to Armin tell you that Eren would be staying in the apartment.

Eren can almost hear your heartbeat speed up, eyes blinking quickly and heat rushing to your face. Of course Armin trusted his best friend to stay with his girlfriend for a weekend. The two people he loved the most would never betray him, and so he had nothing to fear.

Back to being the devoted girlfriend you are, you help Armin pack his bags late Thursday night. You folded clothes on his bed and tucked them into the duffel bag neatly, while Armin looked around for his books. He would be leaving right after his classes Friday morning, and so you knew by the time you returned after your classes, he would be long gone, leaving just you and Eren to fend for yourselves Friday night.

In the morning, you’re greeted by Armin pressing a kiss to your forehead as he heads to his eight-am lecture. Through the daze of sleep and heavy-lidded eyes, you grasp his hand softly in a failed attempt to keep him with you a little longer, but you hear him murmur something that distinctly sounds like “Don't worry, baby, Eren will take care of you” before he leaves.

You fall back asleep after, missing the way Armin and Eren talk briefly before he departs. You wake up in Armin’s bed alone, to the sound of your alarm. Usually, Fridays are your favorite day of the week because you have a light schedule and you get to spend most of the day with Armin. His classes end right when yours start, so you’d get to grab coffee with him and meet for lunch after, before either heading to the library to get work done or to his apartment because you knew Eren wouldn’t be around and therefore you could be as loud as you want.

But not today. You had to get breakfast alone, before going off to class and sitting in the library alone. You didn’t realize how quickly the day had passed by, in between studying and texting Armin to make sure he got home safely, and avoiding the pit in your stomach that kept reminding you that you’d be going home to Eren soon. You looked outside the library window from your seat, and saw the sun was setting, meaning the library was closing soon and that you had to face reality. You’re thinking about how to put going back to the apartment for even longer, maybe stopping somewhere to eat dinner, when your phone buzzes with a text notification.

You pick it up quickly, hoping it’s from Armin, but your stomach drops again when you see the screen lit up with Eren’s name. A singular message from him reads: Did you eat yet?

Bastard. How does he know your thoughts before you even think them?

You’re faced with two choices. Lie to him, then go get dinner by yourself, and then finally go back to your own home and put up with your terrible roommates for another night… or go to the apartment, order dinner with Eren, and avoid his lecherous looks long enough to get yourself safely inside Armin’s room with the door locked.

You feel your heart pounding inside your chest at the thought of having dinner with Eren alone. He never did anything too forward or telling with you, but you suspect it was only because Armin was always right beside you. There’s no telling what he would do if he got you alone. Your heart’s pounding, but another feeling altogether is creeping into your stomach and up to your chest, one that’s making you feel hot all over despite how chilly the air in the library is.

You’re nearly lost in your thoughts until your phone buzzing again brings you back to reality. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in as you read his text, this time longer; We can order dinner when you get here. Promise I don’t bite.

You feel like hurling your phone across the empty library, because every sane thought in your mind is telling you not to go over there, but every bone in your body feels like it’s being pulled towards Eren. Suddenly you think back to all those times you had teased him intentionally, and how strange you feel right now, like two different versions of yourself are fighting with each other. A third buzz makes your decision for you.

Am I really so much worse than those roommates of yours?

Eren was many things, but that was one thing he was not. You quickly remember just how often you had shown up at Armin’s doorstep in tears, or so angry you had steam blowing out of your ears, because of how much you hated them. You only had to deal with them for a few more months, so it was easy enough to avoid them and only stop by to get clothes and the occasional shower. To make matters worse, it was Friday night and they would definitely be having some kind of a party or get-together, which meant there was no way you’d be getting any sleep there.

I’m on my way, can we get pizza?

…

It’s only seven-thirty when you and Eren are sitting on the couch, some movie playing on the television that you aren’t paying attention to. Your nerves only let you eat a slice of pizza, while Eren scarfed down nearly half the box. You knew you were fucked when Eren opened the door, clad only in grey sweatpants and the slick sheen of sweat apparent on his entire body, from his muscular arms to his abs.

Bastard, bastard, bastard. He opened the door like that on purpose, just to see you react with a splutter and blush red.

“I’m just gonna jump into the shower, can you order the pizza?” he shouted to you while walking back to his bedroom. He came out with a towel, and you had barely processed the words because the only thing you could think about were his arms. You knew Eren was fit, anyone could tell just by looking at him, but you had no idea he was built like that. If you were a lesser woman, you would have tried to sneak glances at Eren getting into or out of the shower during all those opportunities you had, but you never did, because it felt wrong to look away from Armin’s blue eyes to focus on Eren.

But now, with no one else there to stop or distract you, your eyes were glued to his muscular figure. It wasn’t too hard to think about how easily he could pin you somewhere—up against a wall, or a door maybe, or across the dinner table. It wouldn’t even take him both hands to keep your head shoved down or keep both your arms pinned back as he—

“Hey, you okay? Did you hear me?” Eren asks again, standing right in front of you. He’s trying his hardest to sound sincere, but there’s a smirk on his face as he observes your behavior. If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s clear as day now.

“I-I’m fine. What kind of pizza do you want?”

“Whatever kind you want, just get extra cheese. Menus on the table,” he says, before turning back around and walking to the bathroom. You’re almost jaw-dropped as you watch him walk away, and hear the water turn on. You take several deep breaths, reminding yourself to stay calm. After dinner, you could go into Armin’s room and be completely fine.

You order the pizza and go into Armin’s room to sort your stuff out, looking through your bag and searching for clothes to sleep in. You knew you had packed them, but you suddenly couldn’t find them anywhere. Your shorts and t-shirt were missing, and you quickly realized you left them on your bed while you had gone to grab your toothbrush. Damn it.

Armin has a collection of perfectly soft and comfortable shirts to sleep in, so you open one of his drawers and pull out a dark green one, with some design on it. There’s no shorts that would fit you among Armin’s clothes, so you’ll have to do without them tonight. It’s fine though, considering the door will be locked and you’ll be safe and sound once you and Eren go to bed. Or so you thought.

Now you’re sitting on the couch, still dressed in your day clothes and feeling hot again. You knew Armin liked to keep the apartment on the warmer side, but you had never felt quite this warm before.

Eren glances at you with a quizzical look, and you realize your shiftiness and breathy pants are more noticeable than you thought.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out and you barely ate a thing,” he comments, keeping his eyes on you which somehow makes you feel even worse. His gaze is piercing, and though you never really cared that Eren always looks like he’s undressing you with his eyes, it’s bothering you now more than ever.

“I-I’m okay,” you get out, before suddenly standing up and taking off the cardigan you had worn all day. “I think I just need to shower, good night Eren,” you say, before walking away much too quickly. Eren’s eyes don’t leave you until you’re inside Armin’s room once more, wondering why you’re so hot and bothered at a simple stare from him. Him, who is not your boyfriend, and barely qualifies as your friend and for some reason has you wet from looking into those green eyes for too long.

Enough.

Armin was kind and sweet enough to let you sleep at his place when he’s not even there, and you wanted to repay that kindness by having dirty thoughts about his best friend? No, it wasn’t right, in fact, it was inherently wrong. You take a few more moments in Armin’s room, inhaling the familiar scent of his fabric softener and all the old books on his shelves, before taking your towel and going to the bathroom. Eren is still in the living room, eating and watching the movie, you presume, and you wish to God he would leave you alone and go out to party or fuck some other girl, but he’s not. He’s spending a quiet Friday night at home with you.

The hot water and clean soap distract you from your thoughts, but the tension and heat growing in your body is only exacerbated when you run your hands across your body. There’s something very wrong about touching yourself in the shower when Eren is a dozen feet away and could hear you easily—but that’s a risk you’re willing to take if it meant it would get illicit thoughts of him out of your brain for the rest of the night.

One hand goes to play with your hardened nipple, as the other tenderly begins to rub circles on your clit. Your hands try to imitate Armin’s, and he’s always gentle with you, but as you let out a muffled moan, you realize it’s not Armin’s careful touch you want right now. It’s Eren’s rough fingers, fingers that would move in and out of your wetness harshly, not waiting for you to adjust to their size. Eren wouldn’t start with one, like Armin, he would go for three and keep his thumb on your clit, rubbing so fast and in just the right way, while his mouth would be on your tits—tongue doing the talking for him on your sensitive nipples. He wouldn’t care to stop if it was getting to be too much, and he wouldn’t let you come down from your high before starting again, he would just keep going. Eren would know when you’ve had enough, and just once didn’t meet his requirements for enough.

If anyone could see you right now, you could die from embarrassment, furiously fucking your fingers and completely unaware of how loud you were being as you tried to imitate what Eren would do to you. But imitating wasn’t quite enough, You were so close, you could almost feel that tight knot in your stomach unwind, just a little more—-

Knock.

“Hey, you’ve been in there a while. Everything okay?” Eren’s voice is muffled from outside the door, and the waterfall coming from the shower suddenly felt like it was pounding beside you.

Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a frustrated, stifled sob.

“Y-yeah! I’m almost done!” you call back out, fingers still inside you. You remove them with a gasp, shaking and face burning at the idea that Eren might have overheard you. You get out of the shower on wobbly legs, wrapping the towel securely around you and heading to Armin’s bedroom to change and put an end to this strange day. You don’t notice that Eren’s door is cracked open a little.

As strange as it sounds, you feel much better once you’re in Armin’s shirt and just a pair of panties, ready for bed. A nagging voice in the back of your head wants you to finish what you started in the shower, nipples hard again as the air seems cooler than earlier, but you push the thoughts aside. Another day.

You grab your water bottle to take your birth-control pill, eight forty-five on the dot, but realize its contents are empty as a result of your earlier hot flash. You tiptoe into the kitchen, extra careful because you don’t want Eren to hear and come out, but as you fill up a glass, your roommate for the night is suddenly leaning against the counter.

It should be illegal the way he says your name. Sultry and deep and rolling off his tongue without even trying. Eren doesn’t have to change a thing about him to be the very definition of the word erotic, which is coincidentally the only word you can use to describe this encounter.

He’s forgone the shirt he had on earlier, when you were eating together, and you knew he had put it on just to make sure you didn’t choke on your pizza. Just in those sweatpants again, you could see everything you had tried too hard to avert your gaze from, on display right in front of you.

“E-Eren,” you stutter out, skin burning again even though it was cold now. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay. What are you taking, there?” You flushed again at the idea of having to tell Eren it was your birth control, because it felt as if he already knew somehow. He watches you with that damn smirk and a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

“It’s ibuprofen.”

“Oh.. ibuprofen, huh? That’s weird, because every time I asked you if you were okay, you said you were fine. Were you lying to me?” His tone is dangerous, somewhere between amused and angry.

You didn’t even realize he had gotten so close to you, until you tried to take another step backwards to put some distance between you two, but you were met by resistance from a cupboard, signifying the end of the wall.

“I-I wasn’t lying, I just forgot-” You hear him click his tongue. He’s dangerously close to you now, you can feel the heat coming off of his body and one more step from him would make you feel the cold breath of his exhales.

“Forgot what, baby? It seems to me that I just caught you in a lie.” Another click of his tongue. “Now, Armin always says you’re a good girl, but I don’t think a good girl would lie to me like you’ve been doing all night, right?”

Armin. The very mention of his name makes something recoil inside your chest, makes you remember how you don’t want to hurt him like this, and how much pain he would be in if he found out about this little interaction between you and Eren.

You try to push back, but Eren extends his arms up, trapping you between them and the cabinet, leaving no way for you to escape.

“Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

The simple sentence is enough to send your brain, skin, heart on fire, as you let out a breath and find your head nodding up and down. Your body seems to have a mind of its own, wetness seeping from between your folds and no doubt creating a darkened patch on your panties.

“Good girl,” he mewls, dragging out each syllable as he speaks. “I thought I might have to punish you if you kept lying to me, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue anymore. Am I right?” He watches you dumbly nod again, eyes very much blank and just focused on one thing: him. He nods too, mocking your movements and smirking again. “Should we play a game? How about I ask a question, and you have to tell the truth? Sound good?”

Everything’s on fire, and you can’t hear anything besides the thumping of your heart in your chest. Long gone are your inhibitions and desperate hope of a quiet night in with your boyfriend’s roommate.

“First question…” Eren trails off quickly, looking down your body slowly. He takes one hand down from its position of blockading you and brings it to the hem of your—Armin’s—shirt. He plays with it there before continuing his sentence. “What were you thinking about in the shower earlier?”

You feel your breath catch in your throat and a quick flame erupts in your chest at the humiliation you feel—so he had heard you after all. And he interrupted you on purpose.

“You-you were listening? I-” Eren laughs, a low rumble from his chest meeting your ears as you begin to quiver from your position against him.

“I wasn’t listening so much as you were being loud. It seems to me that you wanted me to hear you, isn’t that right? Or else what kind of a filthy slut would be so loud?”

You tremble at the name he calls you, not used to sort of degradation Eren is putting you through. A small voice in the back of your head tells you that he’s not wrong, and your behavior is akin to some kind of whore. Maybe you’ve been like this all along, and you just needed the right person to bring it out of you. Your head feels utterly empty and devoid of any more thoughts, and you blank at what to say to Eren next.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you splutter out, feeling incredibly small near Eren, who towers over you. There’s something sadistic in Eren’s gaze, but you notice him soften up at your apology.

“What are you apologizing for?” he questions, quieter than before. He knows the two of you are alone, but he can’t bring himself to raise his voice at you.

You, the bane of his existence, and a blessing all at once. Since the day Armin introduced you to him, there’s been nothing he’s wanted more than for you to meet his gaze and look at him the way you looked at his best friend, with love and adoration. He got a few lucky weeks where you didn’t immediately shy away from his eyes, when he felt like you were challenging him to do something, anything. But it went as soon as it came, and suddenly he was seeing less and less of you. Until this opportunity from Armin’s departure, that is.

“I… I was being a slut,” you whisper back to him, tears lining up at the waterline of your pretty eyes as he moves a hand to your jaw and forces you to look right at him while you speak. You shudder at the touch of his skin on yours, but you don’t want him to stop all the same.

“That’s okay, baby,” he says in an incredibly reassuring tone that has you wondering what he’ll do next. “I like my girls a little slutty, but just for me, right?” You nod again, quickly. “Besides, I have to make it up to you, you know. I stopped you right when you were getting real close, didn’t I? I could just tell from those pretty noises you were making.”

The next few moments pass by in a blur, Eren’s arms move and suddenly you’re over his shoulder, ass up and out as the shirt you’re wearing rides up. He delivers a quick slap, making you cry out, as he brings you into the room and lays you on the bed. He’s standing between your legs, a hand on each thigh keeping you spread open for him as he observes closely the impact of his actions on you.

“You’re just soaking through your panties, aren’t you? Are you really that eager for me?”

You let out a whine, not wanting to answer his question because your face is burning again at the idea of Eren staring so closely at your clothed pussy—and you let out an even higher-pitched squeal when he uses a finger to push your panties aside, and look at your wetness completely.

“So wet, and so pretty, all for me, huh?”

“Y-yes. All for you,” you let out with a moan, eager for Eren to do something. Anything at all would set you over the edge, with how you’ve been feeling these last few hours. But you think he knows that, because his actions are all teasing you and leaving you wanting more, blindly clenching around nothing at all as his fingers barely graze your clit. He lets out a laugh at your desperate antics, and you’re about to come from the slightest touch, and suddenly you feel the bed moving as Eren wraps his lips around your clit and pushes his tongue against you.

You didn’t even know you could make the noise that you let out, a scream and a cry and carnal moan all wrapped in one. You know Eren thinks the same because he looks up at you from his position between your legs, laughing against your core. The vibration from his laugh makes your legs shake even harder, as you feel Eren’s tongue attacking your clit at an even faster pace. You’re seeing stars and completely unaware of everything else, like how Eren’s nimble hands slid your panties down and tossed them to the side somewhere, landing near the bookshelf, so close to the edge when you feel his fingers teasing at your opening and plunge in without any warning.

You were completely right about your earlier predictions, feeling Eren quickly add a third finger inside you as you clasp a hand over your mouth to stop the obscene noises from leaving your mouth. You do have neighbors, after all, despite how much empty your head feels of every thought besides one; Eren.

He pulls his mouth away from your sensitive nerves for just a second, just to chastise you before continuing his actions.

“Don’t do that,” he says the words against your lips, “I want to hear you.”

You weren’t sure it was possible to feel even more pleasure than you were now, but Eren’s words made you feel feral as you let out another loud moan, this time not muffled. You think he calls you a good girl, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. You whine when you feel Eren pull his fingers out of you, suddenly so empty when you had been so full moments ago. You’re trying to collect the words to tell him to keep going, and how this is the second time he’s ruined your finishing, but you just can’t. The only thing that comes out is a mumble of ‘please’ and ‘Eren’

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not stopping,” he says, pulling himself up and hovering over you. One of his strong arms is by your head, holding himself up as the other hand, the one that had been inside of you, finds its way to your mouth. “Open.”

You do as you’re told, dropping your jaw quickly for him as he shoves the fingers into your hot mouth.

“Suck.” Another command that has you reeling, doing exactly as he wants and swirling your tongue around Eren’s long fingers. They’re coated with your heady wetness, and the taste is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, but you don’t stop. It feels entirely too dirty and filthy, but you’re willing to do anything to get Eren’s approval now. His words are clear now.

“Good girl. Since you’ve been so good, I think you can cum now.”

His fingers leave your mouth quickly, and he’s fiddling with your hands now, that were previously gripping the sheets so tightly you were scared they might tear. He pulls up your shirt even more, exposing your tits to the cold air of the room, and puts your fingers on your hardened nipples. He doesn’t give a command, but you know it instinctively, that he wants you to play with your nipples while he makes you come. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to follow his orders, but you go ahead anyways. You’re teasing yourself in front of his hungry, wolf-like gaze, as you clench on nothing every time you run your fingers over your sensitive nipples.

Satisfied, he returns back to his position between your legs. You’re crying out before his fingers even reach your wetness, and choke on your moan when he inserts three at once again. You know there’s no way you’ll be able to hold out now, and if he stops again you feel like you might explode into a million pieces. His tongue is rough against your clit, moving in the perfect motion, and one more thrust of his perfect fingers against that spot inside you will have you cumming so hard— Eren speaks against your pussy, a singular word.

“Cum.”

You feel the knot snap in your stomach and your orgasm shakes through you like a bolt of lightning. You hear yourself release a scream before you can stop it, fingers leaving your breasts and grasping onto Eren’s dark strands for dear life, because he hasn’t let up on his actions yet. He keeps going, riding you through it, tongue and mouth continuing on and fingers pumping in and out so quickly that the bedroom is filled with a crude, squelching noise. You’re not sure exactly how loud you were, but your throat is dry and scratchy, and you’re swallowing just to feel some relief. You feel Eren slowly retract his fingers, breathing heavy against the soft skin of your thigh, as you find your way back to reality. You don’t look down at Eren, but you hear him licking his fingers, tasting your wetness in such a sinful manner, you know you can’t look at him do it.

Reality sets in, and you look around your surroundings. Every single one of your senses had been preoccupied with Eren minutes ago, but now that they were free again, you take in the comfortable scent of the sheets and the lingering scent of your slick leaves your thoughts as you take in the familiar scent of old books. Your heartbeat was just returning to normal, when you look around and realize you’re in Armin’s room, on Armin’s bed, as Armin’s best friend gave you the most powerful orgasm of your life.

You sit up quickly, breathing rapidly as your shirt falls to cover yourself, and you meet Eren’s eyes again.

“Lay back, baby, we’re not done yet.” There’s a haze over your thoughts, and his words, because you want to fight him, and yell and scream at him for bringing you into Armin’s room when you already felt so horrible about what you’ve done, but you can’t summon anything. The only thing you can think about is Eren’s dick, and how it would feel inside you, and how your sensitive walls would take him. So you follow Eren’s orders, and lay back down. Eren hovers over you again, pulling at your shirt, up and over your head, and it lands with a soft thud on the carpet.

He’s looking at you now, up and down slowly, but different than all the other times. He doesn’t have to rush to take it all in this time, because you’re on display just for him now. So he takes his time, and starts with a soft kiss to the skin right above your heart, wondering if he can hear the hard thuds or if that’s just his imagination. You look at him while he continues his ministrations, wondering why he’s being so slow and careful, because you hadn’t expected this.

His lips work their way up, to your collarbone and then your neck, taking his time to suck on the skin and pepper it with kisses once he hears you hiss in pain. He murmurs an apology against your jaw, before his teeth take your bottom lip between them. He lets go soon after, too eager to feel your lips against his. He’s scared you might pull away, but you don’t. You know you’ve done something terrible, but it’s too late to take it back now.

He kisses you deeply, tongues finding each other and exchanging that heady taste of yourself. You moan into the kiss, your hands finding the side of Eren’s face and trying to push him onto yourself even harder. You’re not sure if you ever want to pull away from Eren’s lips, but he finally does, trying to catch his breath. You look into his green eyes for a moment, and find your own eyes watering.

“Don’t cry, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” Eren’s words send you scrambling again, too eager for the fullness you know is inevitable when he finally fucks you.

You feel yourself grabbing for the waistband of his sweats, but Eren’s faster than you. His one hand pins both of yours against your chest, as he clicks his tongue in that obnoxious way again.

“Patience. Only patient girls get daddy’s cock.” You want to scream at him about how patient you’ve been, all this time and all of tonight, but you bite your tongue. You don’t need Eren’s punishment on top of the torture he’s put you through already.

You let go of your resistance and watch with wide eyes as he removes the only thing that was in your way. His erect dick snaps up against his stomach once it’s freed, and you swallow without thinking, looking at the sheer size of him. He’s just as big as you had imagined, the tip a pretty, dark pink with white beads of pre-cum gathered at the top, and every vein causing you to descend further and further into a wanton state. It’s his thickness that you weren’t prepared for. If three of his fingers were such a tight stretch, you can only imagine what this would do to you. But at the same time, you think you might die if Eren doesn’t fuck you right now.

He watches with that damn smirk as you stare at his dick with more eagerness than he’s ever seen before. He holds his length in his hand, directing himself to your entrance but not pushing in. He holds himself there, running his dick over your folds and almost succumbing to the inviting wetness of your cunt, but he stops himself.

“Do you want my cock, baby?” Another surge of heat rushes through your body, feeling almost light-headed at how difficult he’s making this. But you weren’t about to start misbehaving now.

“Y-yes, yes, Eren, please-” You hiccup out, feeling yourself lose the battle against your watery eyes, as the tears roll down your face. “Please, I want it so badly, please, please, please—Oh!”

Eren pushes in without any warning, watery eyes being his own breaking point. He could have finished on the spot seeing you cry begging for his dick, and he was determined to make you cum again before then. The noises you’re making are incredibly obscene, and he knows you’re being loud enough to notify the entire floor, but he’s not going to stop you. He’s only about half way in, but he wants to be nice and let you adjust to him.

“P-please, Eren, please-” You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging Eren for. A part of you doesn’t think it’s possible to feel more full, and another part of you wants Eren to fuck you so hard you forget everything and everyone.

He’s about to chastise you again to be patient, and let you know that he’s doing this for you, not him, but he realizes his actions are louder than his words. With another thrust, he pushes his entire length in you. You moan again, this time with a breathy gasp, and he can’t help the smile on his face. You look so pretty crying, trying to take his entire dick and struggling immensely.

He thrusts slowly, wanting to make it last and make you feel every last vein of dick deep inside you, but the way your tight cunt grips him has him speeding up before he can help it. The noises filling Armin’s room are beyond lecherous, as the only sounds are of his tightening balls smacking against your skin with every deep thrust, and the lewd noise of your wetness taking him.

He’s got you on your back, sitting up between your thighs and one leg hoisted on his shoulder, and thrusting so hard you can feel his hip-bone bruising your skin. There’s only one thought left in your head, and that’s how good Eren feels inside you. The aching burn of his initial assault is long gone, leaving just the feeling of Eren filling you up. Your hands remember his earlier order and find their way to your hardened nipples again, pinching and teasing, putting on a show for Eren as he moans loudly. Every noise he makes goes straight to your core, making you clench around him harder than before.

His lithe fingers find your clit again, and you throw your head back and moan even louder at the feeling. You were so, so sensitive already and this was the last straw. One more of Eren’s thrusts, hitting that special spot inside you, and one more touch of his fingers on your clit sent you screaming to your second orgasm. You were clenching tightly, as Eren worked you through it again and kept his thrusts going. You were seeing black, screaming his name and God knows what else, as you came and waves of pleasure washed over you and heat radiated from your head to your toes.

Eren’s continued thrusts kept going, even after your pussy tightened around him. You were out of breath and sweaty, and you felt Eren’s hips stutter as he leaned forwards and found your hot mouth again. You were kissing again, his lips on yours as you swallowed his moans and grabbed his arms to steady yourself. With another rapid succession of thrusts, Eren moved his lips to your neck and groaned loudly as he came inside you. You felt the hot ropes of his cum deep inside your pussy, as he kept going and going, eventually pulling out of you with a heady moan. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and onto Armin’s sheets, as you laid incredibly still beside Eren, both of you trying to catch your breath. You were ashamed to look Eren in the eyes, avoiding his gaze still as you felt your heart rate return somewhat back to normal.

“Hey,” was all he said, breathlessly, and with a deep look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “Are you okay?”

He straightened himself up, leaning against the bed frame and opening his arms in an inviting manner. You wanted nothing more than to avoid his touch, but you felt the exhaustion in your limbs and you convinced yourself there was nothing wrong with being held by him for a few minutes. You leaned against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling up the covers to shield you both from the cold air. You were content to fall asleep right here, every sense of yours taken up by Eren, but you couldn’t just yet.

“What are we going to tell Armin?” you breathed out dejectedly. It was the one thought that was plaguing your mind, the one thought stopping you from being happy and peaceful beside Eren tonight.

“Oh, baby. You’re acting like this entire thing this wasn’t his idea.”

...

thanks for reading! part two with armin, anyone?

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren yeager smut #eren smut #eren yeager imagine #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #snk #eren jaeger imagine #armin arlert #fics

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reidjumpers · 3 years

Note

would you ever write something along the line of the minimal loss episode reimagined. so instead of emily being in the ep it’s the reader and spence has the biggest crush on her. it kills him knowing that she’s getting hit and bruised. yeah i don’t know if you would do it but i love that idea.

GUESS WHAT I really love this idea too so I tried to rewrite Minimal Loss reimagined. Please emphasize on tried.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer could feel his blood run cold at the question Benjamin Cyrus fired at him and you. He subtly glanced towards your direction, pressing his lips and tried his best to maintain his composure. He watched you shift on your seat a little bit, eyeing the gun on Cyrus’s hand intensely.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in faux confusion.

“God will forgive me for what I must do,” Cyrus said calmly. Too calmly. Spencer gulped as he heard the clicking sound of his gun. He caught the sight of you gaping and eyes widened in horror as a gun aimed against his head.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“One of you does. Who is it?”

“Me,” your voice was firm, slicing through the thick tension. Spencer slowly turned his head towards you with a wide eye. You glared at him with an eye that screamed don’t you dare at him, determination and fear swirled together in your eyes made him shiver. He could feel dread and helplessness slowly sinking in. “It was me.”

Cyrus lowered his gun that aimed at Spencer, slowly turned his direction towards you. Spencer shot you a glare and silently demanded you for explanation at your stupid sacrifice. You had just deflated your own fear and bargained for your safety in order to save him. There was a bitter taste curled and overwhelmed him at the tip of his tongue upon knowing he couldn’t do anything to diffuse the situation.

Spencer let his shoulder sink a little bit as Cyrus silently holstered his gun into his pants, allowing himself a brief relief upon knowing that he didn’t have to watch your demise today. It took everything inside him not to jump and inserted himself in between you and Cyrus as he yanked you to the ground by hair and a sound of your pained whimper filled the room. He couldn’t even bring himself to flinch when a rifle aimed towards him as his eyes fixated on the sight of you being dragged across the room.

“I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus snarked, releasing his hold on you and slammed you to the concrete floor. Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and could feel the tip of his fingertips go frozen as dread and fear pumped rapidly into his system.

The sound of you being slapped filled the room made him flinch a little bit. He glanced briefly towards the rifle against him, giving him a brief break from the horrifying sight before him. Spencer could feel anger and disappointment filled him with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything besides watching you being beaten mercilessly by Cyrus. It was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him who took all the beating instead of you. You were everything good left in the world and you are a living reminder that there are lights and hope in life despite all the horror and worst face of humanity he was constantly being contaminated with.

What would he do if you were gone then? The brief horrifying thought flashed before his eyes as he watched Cyrus slammed your defenseless body into the ground again. He could feel hot tears prickling in his eyes at the thought of living his life in void and helplessness if you ceased to exist before his eyes. Spencer collapsed his balled fist into his lap as the realization that he couldn’t live without you washed through him.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as your body was slammed against the wall and hit the mirror, refusing to picture the sharp shard of glass cutting your skin.

“Proverb 23rd tells us that bloods and wounds cleanse out evil,” Cyrus recited as he yanked you by the collar again and slammed you against the wall. Spencer could feel anger and disdain boiled inside him as he watched your body helplessly fall into the floor after the impact of your collision with the wall.

“I can take it,” you said with a firm voice. Spencer caught your eyes briefly as your eyes flickered in between him and Cyrus that stood in between you and him.

His heart fell into the bottom of his stomach like a heavy sandbag. He knew what you meant from your firm stares alone. You only said that to reassure him and signal the team outside not to come in a rush. It was a minimal loss situation, Spencer had concluded. He drew a sharp breath as he mentally prepared himself for a situation where he couldn’t possibly save everyone and had to accept however many people he could save while others perished.

Spencer glanced up to meet your eyes again before Cyrus moved to block his sight. He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of your eyes screaming I’m fine, I’m okay at him with blood flowing freely from your broken nose. Dread settled painfully in his bones that the possibility of the team having to choose between your life or his was too close than he liked.

He blinked his eyes to shoo away the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t risk blowing up another cover that guaranteed his life when you had sacrificed yours for him.

Cyrus beat and slapped you for another round with disdain painted clearly on his face. “Pride comes before the fall,” he said as he punched your stomach and slammed you to the floor, thinking you were antagonizing him as you repeatedly said you could take it. Spencer let out a relieved sigh as Cyrus took a step back from you and left you shaking with pain on the ground, instructed Cristopher to tie you up and took you upstairs.

Not today, he reassured himself. Forcing himself to be satisfied and grateful for your spared life. Not today.

***

Spencer had just successfully coaxed Cyrus into testing the negotiator for the FBI and proving them that they were not a liar and ensuring your safety. Disgust and anger brewing at the pit of his stomach every time Cyrus glanced his eyes towards him. He somewhat marveled at the plain trust Cyrus gave him effortlessly. The memory of him beating you hadn’t left his mind, still painted fresh and clear as if it still happened before his eyes. He had to mentally restrain himself from glaring in disgust at the thought of Cyrus molesting a child and beating you up until bloody and bruised.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus addressed his man that had been trying to shot down Spencer’s suggestion regarding the situation. Only then Spencer turned his attention fully at him who had been pacing around in agitation repeatedly.

“Some of them had been talking about leaving,” he sighed.

“Leaving?” Cyrus pressed his lips together as Christopher affirmed his question. Spencer balled his fist and hid it inside the pocket of his pants as he waited in antagonizing anticipation with whatever next step Cyrus would take. “Wake the baby. Let’s get them meet the orphan that they made.”

Spencer nodded mutely at Cyrus’s decision. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding this whole time, letting himself loose a little bit and allowed himself to feel relief washed through him. Cyrus had taken the big bait and he had ensured your safety with his lies and negotiation skill. It was the least thing he could do after what you did for him.

He knew he would be damned if he couldn’t get you out of his god forsaken place alive. For now he just has to give and surrender with whatever fate is waiting for him into the hands of the team waiting outside. He took one longing glance outside from the window, wishing that he would be staring into the starless sky with you right now.

***

Spencer watched from the back silently as the members of the cult filled the empty chair inside the chapel one by one. What was once an empty and quiet chapel now buzzing with life and the air was stale and raked with fear. The negotiation test went as smoothly as Spencer could wished for. He heard Rossi rattling out your identity to Cyrus in exchange for your safety from a speaker phone as they released the orphan into the team outside.

You emerged from the opposite end of the chapel, a swarm of children and women pushed through from behind you. Spencer stared and watched the way the sunlight that slips through the chapel window fell into your skin. The glowing sunlight from behind your back casted a halo behind your figure. He noticed that your blood had been cleaned up and there were a few specks of dried blood on the collar of your shirt. Some newly formed bruises littered your face, angry and red and was a painful sight to behold. He hated it.

Cyrus was listing out names from the list he had written the day before as Spencer slowly made his way towards you. Everyone’s attention was focused on their leader calling out the names on the altar, but Spencer’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes were watching Cyrus solemnly as you leaned yourself into the wall to support your weight.

Spencer lifted his hand to touch your face and stopped midair before he realized a tad bit too late. His finger twitched painfully with a burning desire to feel you underneath his fingertips, but he couldn’t risk another round of beating and blowing up plans that had been rolling quite smoothly so far.

Guilt surged inside him like the sea, disdain and bitterness brewing and threatening to explode from the bottom of his stomach. He could feel himself dying a little bit inside at the frightening state you were in, all because you were sacrificing your life for him. For his sake when he wasn’t even sure he deserved it.

You finally acknowledged his presence and spared him a glance. Your eyebrows furrowed together in distress and Spencer had to restrain himself from the temptation to put his thumb in between your eyebrows and smoothen out your stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. If he could take away all your pain, he would.

“He looks pissed,” you whisper-yelling at him. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to respond to your words. Even after you took the downfall and hard beatings for him, you still think about other’s well-being instead of yours.

You took another glance towards him from the lack of response from his part. Your eyes scanned his face briefly before your lips twitched into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Spencer shook his head, refusing to believe your words. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and full of regret scratching his throat painfully.

“No, no,” you shook your head and quickly squashed his apology. “No apologies. We both know one of us has to take it.”

“But why should it be you?” Spencer hissed through his greeted teeth. His distress and agitation, and overall emotions that he had been trying to tuck and buried it away seeped into the surface. He could feel his mask cracking and threatened to be broken, and he was thankful for the roaring voice of Cyrus listing out names that masked his own. “Why should it be you? Why couldn’t it be me?”

“He had a gun against your head, Reid!” you hissed back with an equal amount of emotions laced on your voice. “I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t let them kill you. I know they would kill you first if one of us refused to answer. I can’t, Spencer, I—” you took a sharp breath and glanced away from his prying wide eyes. He could hear your voice wavering and your eyes glossed with tears. “Look at the people he’s releasing.”

“It’s the one who failed the loyalty test,” he observed. The previous slip of emotions was being put to the back of his mind again as he noticed the new fact he just found. “I’ll get word to the team, wait for the sign from outside indicating what time the raid will come.”

You stared at him with a wide eye, confusion and fear swirled together. You looked so vulnerable and small like that, like a polished porcelain that could crumble into dust anytime. Spencer nodded firmly and gave you a reassuring smile, silently asking you to believe him. He almost jolted with surprise when you grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly and briefly, understanding what he was trying to do.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

He nodded and turned away to make his way to Cyrus, not believing himself to utter any single words without breaking down. He was determined to make sure you were safe and would make it out alive, whatever it takes.

“Told her she shouldn’t have blinded you like that,” Spencer told Cyrus with a faux exasperation and disappointment. He shuddered when Cyrus nodded sympathetically.

“To either of us,” he corrected him sympathetically, which made Spencer want to do nothing but curl up in disgust. Cyrus jerked his chin towards your direction and addressed Christopher, “Bring her back.”

Spencer watched you being dragged up by your upper arms into wherever they were keeping you. He forcefully gulped and shook away the lump of dread on his throat, disbanding it as soon as it was formed. His eyes were apologetic and yours were nothing but filled with determination and forced bravery.

Those who had failed for the test were ushered out of the farm through the front door. Spencer mentally counted the amount of people who walked out into a guaranteed safety, relieved that it held a much greater amount that he had prepared. It was only a matter of saving the rest and finding a way in for the team to bring you and him out of this place.

Cyrus was making his final and last negotiation call with Rossi, asking for a fried chicken and its sides for their last supper and the presence of media to document his sacrifice to God. A suicide attempt to bring down himself and his faithful fanatic followers was a more appealing option to him rather than surrender himself to the authority apparently. It was obvious from the first time Spencer stepped into the building, but it still didn’t fail to fill him with dread and fear.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come,” Spencer explained to Christopher with a polite smile after he demanded how he had known Cyrus’s plan of final act of sacrifice all along. He maintained his gaze firmly and silently wishing that the team would catch his words through the parable microphone planted outside. It would be his only hope and way for them to come in.

***

Thick smog and fire blinded his sight and blocked his way. Spencer stumbled upon a block of brunt wooden log as Morgan dragged his limping body outside the chapel. Cyrus was dead, but Jesse had finished his suicide mission by blowing up the chapel and the rest of the building. He could hear sirens blaring outside and faint sounds of wails and fearful screams mixed together in the air.

The thought of you trapped inside the building flashed before his eyes for a moment. He didn’t have a moment to glance back to make sure about your whereabouts as he kept coughing and stumbling, Morgan’s grip still firm on his upper hand to drag him outside into safety. Fear started to paralyze his body that he nearly fell into the concrete fall face first. He just needed to see you, to make sure you were safe.

He didn’t know that the sight of armed soldiers and police cars could bring an immense amount of comfort for him. Spencer nearly cried at the overwhelming relief that he was out unharmed, slipped by the last strand of his hair from his ultimate demise. But he couldn’t allow himself to be relieved and comfortable before he knew where you were. Before he knew if you were safe.

“Spencer!” your voice came faintly in between the chaotic sirens and the sound of angry fire eating up the chapel. “Morgan!”

Spencer watched you squirm out of Emily’s embrace, running limpy towards him. He knew he had burst into tears as soon as his eyes landed on you, safe, alive, although littered with bruises and dried blood on your shirt. His shoulders sank and shook as your arms wrapped around him tightly, all the horror, fear, and dread that he didn’t allow himself to feel in the past few days before had rushed into him and knocked all the air out of his lungs.

Relief and comfort of knowing you were safe in his arms was a breath of fresh air for his burned lungs. Usually he would squirm at the thought of touching someone, but the steady rise of your chest as you breath against him overcame all the unfortunate uncomfortable thoughts that came with the activity of hugging someone.

“You’re safe,” Spencer gasped as he released you from his embrace. He was aware that everyone was watching him hugging you and he fought all the mortification that slowly crept up his cheeks. He tried to mask it away as being a relief to find his coworker made it out alive from the sticky hostage situation.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured him with one last firm squeeze on his arms. He wanted nothing but to pull you into his arms again, shield you for any harms lurking in the outside world. The anger that had been forgotten on the back of his mind surged inside him again. But he had to be satisfied with only one final squeeze as you parted from him to be checked by the paramedics.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet and a peaceful one. Everyone was winding up and breathing from the horror of the case that just wrapped up. Spencer tried his best to distract his mind with his book, burrowed in the furthest corner of the jet as the comforting and steady hum of the jet lulled him to sleep.

You slipped into the empty seat right across from him. A weak smile and a timid greeting were exchanged between you and silence followed right after. Spencer knew what conversation would follow after this, and he didn’t want to face it just yet. He had stopped reading from the moment you took the seat and watched him with careful eyes, but he still put up the act in the hope it would steer you away from bursting his bubble.

It did not. Spencer didn’t put up a fight as you gently took his book away from his hands and placed it gently on the table.

“I need you to listen to me,” you started with a firm voice. You were wearing the nice lilac shirt that Spencer liked, and the bruises on your face had started to heal and fade away. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision and I would do it again.”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you tilted your head with your lips pressing together, discouraging him to counter your statement. He took a sharp breath and shook his head.

“Do you hear me?” your voice was softer this time. Your hands silently reached for his and held them gently. Your thumb made a soothing pattern on his knuckles, a reassuring and determined smile was on your face. Spencer couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Do you hear me, Spencer? I will do it again. It wasn’t your fault. It was my decision.”

“I know,” he answered finally.

“Thank you.”

“Please know that I will do the same for you.”

His words had caught you off guard. You stared briefly before nodding, patting the top of his hand gently with your hand as you gave him a really bright smile. Spencer let himself sink further into the comfortable leather seat and let relief washed through him again. Everything will be okay.

#spencer reid #minimal loss #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #cm #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #cm fluff #cm angst #mgg #matthew gray gubler #minimal loss reimagined

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction

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punemy-spotted · 3 years

Text

The Price You Pay Chapter 3: Counteroffer

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements Continue; Dub-Con; Angst; Politics; Possessive/Manipulative Behavior; Spanking; Choking; Crying; The Dove is Probably Dead: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The return of an old friend brings back the ghosts of old memories.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2

Notes: Shorter chapters my ass, these outlines are getting unreal. Andy Barber has arrived, Steve Rogers does not approve, the Reader bears the consequences. Things are going to be angstier from here on out and I can feel it in my bones. Please don’t yell at me — or do, your feedback is well-loved and appreciated even if it’s yelly.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

You met Andy Barber fresh from the ashes of his divorce, escaping the gossip and scandal and pain of his past life only to dive into the gossip and scandal and pain of politics. Senatorial campaign, in need of an aide and a law student desperate to do more for the people than hours in clinics and mock trials. Hungry for something grassroots, angling for the impossible.

A match. Whether made in Heaven or Hell feels irrelevant now, long ago as it was.

It was then. This… is now.

Hey Sunshine, didn’t think you’d be able to make it.

He looks the same. Keeps the same beard. Same hair. It’s uncanny and familiar and safe all at once and you slide into the booth with your purse by your side and feel genuinely smiley for the first time in a long time.

It’s been a while since I heard that name.

Yeah? It’s been a while since I got to use it.

The silence is heavy, unwelcome, unwieldy, a reminder of the space between what was and what is.

How’re you doing? Last I heard you were making a name for yourself taking down the…

He trails off, eyes fixed on the slide of your gaze, the sudden interest in a drink menu you wouldn’t normally touch, the tremor of your lips. A man doesn’t serve as Assistant District Attorney for the many years he has without picking up tells.

Sunshine.

Andy…

It’s a warning, a plea, a… confession, all at once, and all the dogged determination in the world can’t hold against the break in your voice, in your control. You’ve cried more in the past few weeks than you can recall and now here he is, soulful eyes and a worried expression and he’s never hugged you really, but suddenly you might want it just that much more.

Don’t be an idiot.

It’s dangerous, your stress, and you know it.

Dangerous enough to send you into the arms of the next safe thing — this is why you don’t do this, isn’t it, this reaching out bit, but no advocacy group on the planet is going to save you from yourself today.

I saw… I saw you win that case. Pretty brutal, standing up to the Syndicate, and getting what you did. He steamrolls past the way you wince, his thumb on that metaphorical bruise and pressing, the Prosecutor’s dogged determination demanding answers, I have a friend in the office, he was convinced you’d be climbing the ranks.

Every word is a twist of the knife, couched in quiet concern, gentle admonition, a warm hug in a smoky tenor and you want to tell him everything, you want to break down in his arms and tell him every word, every buried piece of you he never learned, everything that’s led you to this.

You don’t.

You know better than to trust him too. No one’s going to take care of you but you so instead you shake your head and wave it off and Decided going into the private sector was the better option — one big win doesn’t really make up for the stress, you know.

Private sector. That’s what you’re calling the SHIELD Syndicate now? C’mon, Sunshine…

Look. It’s the Syndicate’s New York, when he made the offer it was… safer than saying no. It’s a cushy position anyway, and I didn’t want anyth—

He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you and you’re digging a hole trying to explain your way out of it so you just… shut up, shaking your head, It’s not important. I’m fine. I’m more curious about you — what year is it now, your fourth? What are you doing in New York?

The deflection works, but the look on his face is obvious — you’re not getting out of this so easily. He gives in for now, just for now, for you.

Almost fifth, gearing up for re-election. Had a meeting up here… about the organized crime situation for both states, and I remembered you were in the area.

Oh. You… it’s been a while since we talked, you remembered?

You expect me to forget you, Sunshine?

That stops you in your tracks, or whatever road your mind had been racing on, thoroughly not enjoying the defensive you’ve been on since you met with Steve, constantly under watch and waiting for yet one more shoe to fall on you.

That’s fear, sweetness.

Andy…?

You were the best campaign aide I had — I told you then too, I would have made you Chief of Staff if you’d let me.

It’s a good save. A clever save, and you want to believe it more than anything, want to believe it was all business and no pleasure because the alternative makes your nails bite into the table and want to turn tail before he can say another word and he… sees that panic flicker over your face so keenly it’s almost embarrassing.

You’re not used to this.

You’re not used to the warmth of his eyes when he searches your face for the answers you can’t give voice to. You’re not used to the way he reaches for your hand and rests it over your fingers, curling around your palm like he might actually keep you close and keep you safe and keep you free of the demons you made a part of yourself too.

Sunshine, why does his voice have to be so soft, why does it have to sound like molten honey on your senses, why does he have to say your name like it’s the very definition of the word hope, If you’re not safe…

No. No you’re not, tell him tell him the truth, tell him you’re atoning for the girl you could not protect tell him you aren’t worth it tell him this is your penance tell him you signed a death warrant tell him tell him tell him.

Andy, really. I’m fine. It’s a good job.

It’s a shit lie.

He drops it. Drops it just long enough for a waiter to finally come by, for his hand to leave yours while he talks through the wine menu. Drops it long enough for you to check your phone, realizing with horror that you must have silenced it absentmindedly sometime on your way here.

Ten missed calls.

All from Steve.

And one text, stamped from just five minutes ago.

[SMS] Either you pick up your phone or I pick you up, Counsel.

The next one comes right before your eyes, a picture of a map and a GPS pin. Your location.

You glance up at Andy, still talking to the waiter about the small plates options, feign a smile and Go ahead and choose, you have better taste than me, and return to staring at the picture and the three dots at the bottom of your screen, waiting to see his next message.

[SMS] Make your choice.

The haptic feedback of your keyboard feels like an electric shock with every letter, hurried fingers until you manage to tap out something that won’t immediately put the man in front of you in the crosshairs of the most dangerous organization in New York.

You can’t do that to him. You can’t.

[SMS] I’m at a dinner with a friend.

[SMS] And since I know there’s no emergencies pressing, I’d like my time, thank you.

You have the good sense to set it next to you this time, watching your screen light up with whatever furious response he sends next, glancing over only occasionally every time another one comes through. Don’t let him control you. Don’t let him think you’re at his beck and call.

You’re not.

You’re free, you’re free and you’re going to prove it.

Sunshine? What’s going on?

His voice cuts through the haze of panic like a knife and you swear you don’t mean to jump but you do and there’s no denying what he notices, eyes narrow and lips turned down in a sharp scowl, Sunshine…?

You are not that girl. You cannot be that girl, never again.

Steel. Steel yourself, flash him a smile, take a sip of the ice water left in front of you while you’d been checking your phone, reset yourself. Steady. Steady on.

Don’t let them know.

Nothing, nothing, just the boss — let him know I was busy.

Why is he texting you after hours? The Syndicate can’t be that busy.

He’s too watchful for your own good. Probably just making sure I’m staying out of trouble.

Are you?

Are you calling yourself trouble, Senator?

You like this. You can handle this, the trading of jokes, the crooked way he smiles. His eyes are a little more distant than you remember but you can still see them sparkle softly when he suppresses a laugh, lighting up properly when the joy reflects in them.

Briefly, you wonder when the last time he really laughed was.

By the time dinner is over, his hand, warm and steady, is back on yours as you talk — and for a moment you almost enjoy the way he runs his thumb over your knuckles absently, like he’s making careful appraisal of each one. Could use your skills for the re-election campaign, you know.

Really? You’ve got a gorgeous approval rating, what are you afraid of?

Not having my good luck charm on the staff.

Andy…

I’m dead serious, Sunshine, you ran that ship. You were what, a 2L? Rising 3? You had canvassing down to a science. We need that energy down on the Hill.

The curve of his fingers is a little tighter now, squeezing yours, like proof of his earnestness and oh, you want to keep believing him. You need to keep believing him.

There’s so much in New York I have to get done first. And besides, you know me. I want a life on the bench.

Justice Sunshine, and it sounds absurd when he uses your nickname and it sounds so real when he uses your nickname and in the warm smoke of his voice those contradictions can live together all at once.

That’s the one. Closest you’ll see me to Washington is when I’m appointed to the Supreme Court. It’s a dumb, arrogant, silly joke but it’s the same one you used to make with him over drinks, teasing him about his political goals and making him promise to “go easy on you” at your eventual Senate confirmation hearing.

It’s the one that makes him crack that too-beautiful crooked smile while he takes a sip of his drink — hiding the curve of his lips behind the rim of a heavy glass.

Well. If you ever decide to ditch—

Ever decide to ditch what?

The world moves in slow motion: hearing the low growl from behind you; Andy Barber looking up and rising to his feet, his hand slipping from yours with just the ghost of his comfortable touch to assure you; Steve Rogers coming into view as you turn, flanked by the not-entirely-unfamiliar faces of two of his enforcers — it looked like Wilson and Banner had been selected this evening — and the sudden pressure of knowing you’ve done something terribly, terribly wrong.

You stood me up, Counsel. Steve’s voice is a threat, a half-drawl as you stand up and face him, Andy right behind you, Something wrong with taking my phone calls?

She was busy, the sound of Andy’s voice is a balm to your soul and fuel to Steve’s fire, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he grits his teeth and resists the temptation to throw the first punch — you can see the fingers of his right hand curling into a fist, can’t you? The slow curve, the watching, wondering if you’ll make the right choice now that someone has chosen to try to lead you astray.

And who the fuck are you? If he can’t get you to respond, he’ll get something from the man talking for you, eyes trained on him like he’s debating whether his own frustration will make this interloper turn to nothingness and return you to his arms where you rightfullybelong.

Do you? Rightfully belong?

Senator Andy Barber. The title practically knocks the wind out of Steve’s sails and you can see it — he may be the Captain here, King of New York, ruler of his domain but he’s not stupid enough to openly attack a man with connections beyond the Syndicate’s web of influence. It’s a comfort and it’s not, all at once.

The room is still, vibrating with tension, the two men staring daggers at one another and you caught in the middle. I worked on Senator Barber’s campaign when he first ran for election, you manage out in some vain hope it might explain and mollify, only to be thoroughly disappointed — and judging by the way Banner winces, only to dig your grave further.

We’re talking about this later, Counsel. You’re coming home.

And what gives you the right to give her orders? You really are going to have to look back at Andy and beg him to not make this worse. You really are going to have to let him see your face, see that you’re afraid, sweetness. He’s not going to let you go easy and this should not terrify you as much as it does.

Senator Barber. It’s fine. Something must have come up,turning to face his burning eyes, until his face softens like he’s seeing you for the first time. And is he? Is he seeing how you just need him to let it go, let you go, drop the protectiveness and step back?

He has to, because he does, nodding before he grabs his coat and glances to the host station. If you say so, Sunshine. Take care of yourself. He doesn’t press, not knowing when he’s beat but knowing when you don’t want him to. When you’re not safe.

And Steve Rogers offers you his hand to walk you out.

And just what the hell did you think you were doing!?

Oh, and you control my time off the clock now too?

He dragged you back home.

No. Not to your apartment, that sanctuary away from all this you’d been allowed to keep as part of the “deal.” His home, the bedroom where you signed yourself away, the space he unraveled you and left you tangled in your new life.

He dragged you back home, in the grim silence of the backseat of his car and you waited. Waited for the inevitable explosion, the one prefaced by Wilson’s nervous looks and Banner’s cautious stare.

This explosion, where he rounds in on you, where livid is still too tame a term.

Meeting with a Senator? Ignoring my calls? I told you, you were mine tonight.

And I told you I had plans.

After I told you that you were mine, Counsel.

Okay. That’s true, even if you’re loathe to admit it.

Plans adjust. Andy wanted to—

Oh, Andy now? I thought it was Senator Barber? You’re really familiar with him, aren’t you, Counsel?

Just what the fuck are you implying?

Maybe you need a reminder of who you belong to.

He loves to do this. Wrap his big hand around your throat, remind you just how easily he can impose his power onto you, watch your protests die behind your eyes when you realize how useless words are in the face of his violence.

The furious look in your eyes is something to behold, the way you embed your nails into his wrist to try and drag him off you, all soft snarls and indignant huffs, You fucking asshole…

You’re mine, Counsel, and don’t you forget it. You gave yourself to me, remember?

Like I… like I had much of a choice, breathy, furious, and clawing at him.

Doesn’t matter. You’re mine, and clearly I need to make sure you know it…

Steve—!

Captain, sweetness, Captain, and don’t you forget it.

There’s a moment, when anger becomes transcendental, when it turns into something cold and calculating and prepared, when a plan forms behind his eyes and you watch as he looks down at you, so full of fury and fear all at once and you watch as he leans in so close and you feel his hand slide until he has you by the back of the neck, until his thumb is the thing pressing under your chin to keep your eyes on him, until the heel of his hand is the thing keeping you from shouting at him further. Such a stubborn little bitch…

You can almost see the words forming in his mind, the ones his mouth won’t say, I could be so good to you, but he doesn’t say them, sliding his lips over yours instead and it is… soft. A capturing of your mouth with his, not caring that you protest, only insistent on leaving you breathless and hazy-eyed from each tug of his lips on yours and there stokes the warmth of more than your rage, a different fire rising in your core, unbidden and unwelcome but yours to own and his to play with.

He can sense it, practically feel it, that mad serum racing through his veins and making his nostrils flare as he pulls back and watches you, lets the scent of your perfume fill his senses like a drug he can’t get enough of and, I should hate you too, for this, whispered low and hushed and you barely catch it, don’t you? Barely, but enough, enough to remember it was said just before he pulls you down with him into the depths of his own lust.

And into his lap, it seems, as he drags you down, sitting on the bed with you draped over his lap, an effortless shift in his skillful hands. You can protest, and you do, even daring to try to pull away with a kick of your legs and an indignant, What the hell do you think you’re doing?But you know it’s all futile, useless as he places one heavy hand on your back and lets the other slide over the smooth chiffon of your blouse, tracing a line along your spine with careful, practiced ease.

Would have preferred this with a little more… circumstance, sweetness, but you need to learn a lesson now and drastic times call for drastic measures.

You can turn your head slightly, to look at him, that wild-eyed fury so sweet on your face and you are still a wild creature he needs to tame but he is patient and he can do this for as long as it takes.

But you’re a sight like this, draped over his lap in a pencil skirt and blouse, so put together and proper and now so prone to him, helpless under the appraisal of his hands and the way he takes no time in hiking your skirt up around your waist. Captain! Your protest is met with a low chuckle, especially as he lets his palm curve around the round swell of your ass, before leaving a light swat on the soft flesh, to draw a yelp from your furious mouth.

If that’s all it takes to get you shouting, sweetness, you’re going to hate what comes next, smug and cruel, as you try to hold yourself up enough to look at him, met with his smirk and the simmering fury still bubbling in his eyes. To say you’re in danger still is an understatement, no doubt, and you know it.

I won’t make you count this time, but piss me off again, sweetness, and we’ll just see how much you can take, you hear me?

Oh you loathe him, really and truly loathe him, hissing with anger and embarrassment, so close to twisting in his arms and clawing at him but remembering his size and just how much worse it could get — but then there lies the undercurrent.

The one you loathe too, more than you hated him, that warmth. Seeping into your core, a low heat kindled by the sly softness of his lips on yours and the sure tenor of his voice, low and soothing even as he promised damnation. The one that — just like now — leaves you flushed and writhing while he purrs threats to you, massaging the soft skin and sliding the lace of your panties down to remove all barriers to the sex he owns so surely.

You open your mouth to argue with him but as you do, you feel his hand lift from your flesh and then the resounding SMACK of palm on skin, turning words into nothing but a sharp cry of pain, surprise, and lust. The heat rises just as your body tenses, reacting to the sudden attack on your delicate form, cheeks flushed. Even as your eyes well with tears your sex strives to betray you and — Oh do you like that, sweetness? — damn him for noticing.

Let me go, Captain, the threat is shaky, your voice wavering with something like want and panic all at once, and all it does is draw another laugh as he soothes the stinging mark left on your cheek, gentle as a lover and four times as cruel.

Do you know what I think, sweetness? And another raise of his palm, to strike you once more, listening to the way that cry of pain and surprise turns into a soft, involuntary moan the moment he begins to soothe the ache, I think you need this. Always so uptight, trying to be the head bitch in charge, aren’t you? Just looking for someone to take over, take control, remind you where your place is.

His fingers slip further, more interested in exploring the soft slickness of your sex, listening to your protests die in your throat with every press of his fingers into your plush folds. That’s why I’m here, to keep you in my lap, all fucked and soft, sweetness. Don’t you worry, I’m going to take care of you. Even if I have to teach you just like this.

You should hate the way he talks, hates how he finds your center with effortless ease, like he’s known your body for years. Holding you down in his lap still as he draws mewling moans from you with every curl of his fingers, finding the proof of his accusations in the slick need coating your thighs, soaking his fingers, You’re making such a mess of me, sweetness. Are you going to be good?

Hiss at him. Snarl at him, buck your hips and twist in his arms, push him away. Do something more than what you are now, with red-rimmed eyes and tears staining your face, do more than listen to him talk, feel his cock pressing against you as you lay in his lap, I’m going to ask it one more time, sweetness. Are. You. Going. To. Be. Good?

He punctuates each word of his question with a harsh smackagainst your ass, leaving little time for you to do more than cry out, until the last spank draws something like a moan from your perfect lips and therein lies your surrender for tonight, that soft mewl of pleasure born of pain and he soothes you again with soft shushes and gentle touches, back to inspecting the renewed slickness of your cunt, back to enjoying that plump tightness wrapped around his fingers and back to trying to control the shift of his own hips and you can feel him, hard against you, needing you as much as he is compelling your body to need him.

Captain… a low, desperate sort of mewl, the squirm of your body less to escape and more to enticeand he notices. Notices the way your fingers try to cling to him, notices how you look so very sweet when you’re so very desperate and in some way this is your own game of control, a push and pull and the curl of his fingers is suddenly so much angrier, driving you to the precipice of the fall and you are tumbling, tumbling down into a darkness of want you may never recover from.

Say it again. Tell me you need me, sweetness, tell me you need me and I’ll give you everything, and there’s an edge to the way he says everything, like he might meanit, like he might give you the world if you just gave in and you hate him, sweetness, you hate him but you need the things you hate once in a while and you can’t keep bearing his fury on your body and so you sob out your surrender and whine—

I need you, Captain, please…

And that is enough.

Let him believe you.

#steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #steve rogers smut #andy barber smut #this fic is murdering my ass

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

Promotion: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You don't ever make it to the convention. At all.

wc: 2.4k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

"Hey, y/n, are you coming out to lunch with us?" You turn your chair around to face your co-workers, all of them gathering their things to leave for the day. A half-day, right.

You'd completely forgotten about the half-day your boss offered as a reward for meeting every single editing deadline for a month straight. And now you were knee-deep in a manuscript, your mind completely focused on the task on the computer in front of you.

"I think I'll stay here and work on this for a little while. You all enjoy yourselves!" Your co-workers wave goodbye, chattering about their weekend plans as you turn back around, shifting the feedback sheet from your desk and onto the printer.

You dive back into your work - frowning as you come across a massive plot hole - the door to your boss's office flies open. You jump a little, startled by the sudden movement, and watch Nanami Kento adjust his clear frames before sliding them back on his handsome face.

"Y/n, could I speak to you for a moment? I'm sorry to interrupt your workflow, but this is urgent," he begins, and you stand from your desk, saving the work you've done before walking into his office. As you take a seat in the only other chair in the room, you cross your legs at the ankle, waiting for Nanami to take his place at his desk.

"Did you not want to take the half-day?" The blonde man wonders, sitting in his chair and unbuttoning his jacket.

"No, I really want to get as much work done as possible before the weekend."

"Big plans?" His brow lifts, and you inhale sharply, wondering what he's implying.

"No," you admit, looking down at your fingers and feeling your cheeks heat up. "I like to rest on my days off, is all."

"I won't keep you long, then. One of our managing editors - Hisoka - is leaving at the end of next week. You've been working very hard on making sure manuscripts are done right, clients are satisfied, and book deals go smoothly that I was wondering if you'd be willing to accept her position and her spot at the conference next week." A promotion? And a spot a the Editor's Conference?

"Sir, I'm flattered by your consideration--"

"Then it's done. I'll send over the paperwork on Monday morning, and I'll make sure you're settled in your new position by Friday." Nanami begins typing at his computer, and you stare at him, open-mouthed. "What's wrong?"

"I mean, this is all so sudden, I..." you trail off as Nanami frowns at you, his confusion evident. "Thank you, sir."

"You're the most qualified for the position, so I think you'll do just fine." He smiles as you stand to leave, giving him a slight bow.

"I'll do my best."

_____________________________________________________________

You shift nervously as the taxi takes both you and your boss from the train station to your hotel, where you hope the assistant booked you a decent room so you can get some rest before the big day tomorrow. Nanami is checking his phone, reading through emails before the taxi stops, letting you both out on the sidewalk in front of the ritzy hotel in the moonlight.

"I'll check-in for both of us," Nanami murmurs, and you go to sit in the lobby area while he speaks with the receptionist. Before long, you can hear a slight disagreement break out, and you turn your head to watch your boss approach you slowly, head bowed a little.

"What's wrong?" you wonder, clutching your bag close.

"Takada booked us only one room instead of two. I think she might have gotten the idea that since Hisoka left, that I would just be going."

"Well," you begin, standing. "Surely we can get another room."

"There isn't any room," he mutters, rubbing his eyes. "All of the hotels in the area are booked." You deflate, wondering what to do next. Nanami watches you carefully, picking up his briefcase before you reply,

"Well, I guess we have no choice, then."

He escorts you up to the elevator and swipes his keycard, pressing the highest floor before clearing his throat. You feel sweat pooling under your arms as you think about possibly sharing a bed with your boss. Yes, he's handsome as hell. But... sleeping in the same bed as a co-worker is... wrong. Right?

When the door to the suite opens, you look around at the lavish furnishings and beautiful view it affords you.

"I'll take the couch," Nanami announces, sighing as he drops his luggage beside the less than appealing couch.

"It looks uncomfortable," you state, and he takes off his glasses.

"I'm not going to assume you're comfortable with me sharing a bed with you, so I'm offering it to you by default."

"I'm sure we can both fit," you offer, and he glances up at you curiously. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." Nanami thinks for a moment, then moves his things into the bedroom, placing them on the other side of the king-sized bed. "And I promise I won't tell anyone," you tease, but he just gives you a blank look that makes you look away, cringing internally. Cool it with the jokes, you tell yourself.

As Nanami takes a shower, you pull out the various items you have to sleep in, groaning at your selection. There were only short, frilly things, instead of what you normally brought - baggy t-shirts and sweatpants. Why did you choose to bring these of all things?

Grumbling, you walk over to the mini-fridge and pull out a small bottle of Moët, tossing it back for courage. You feel the champagne hit your system moments later- and you wonder how you made it through college at this point.

The sound of the shower shutting off makes you squeak, and you throw on the silk slip before climbing into bed and facing away from the bathroom door. When Nanami emerges, you hear him shift around before climbing under the sheets, and muttering,

"Good night, y/n."

"Good night, sir."

_____________________________________________________________

Your arm is on someone's chest when you awake. You moan, lifting your head and coming face to face with your boss - who is already awake.

"Oh!" you shift off of Nanami, heart beating wildly. "I am so sorry, sir, I--"

"No, it's fine," Nanami chuckles. "It's not every morning that I wake up with a beautiful woman in my bed. Or have her talk about me in her sleep."

"Huh?" you stop, feeling your stomach drop.

"You said some... interesting things about me while you were asleep. If I had known you were a sleeptalker, I would have--"

"What did I say?" you whisper, frightened.

"Oh, nothing," Nanami chuckles, getting out of the bed and stretching. "Just something about how you found me good-looking and how you wanted to--"

You look away from him, rubbing your face in embarrassment. "I am so, so sorry, Mr. Nanami, it must have been the Moët I had before bed."

"Oh, I'm not upset. I just wish you would've said something sooner, y/n." You turn back to him, your eyes widening. "I find you attractive, too. But I had to be sure you weren't just dreaming before I said anything to you." He climbs back onto the bed, touching your face with a tender hand.

You instinctively lean into his palm, and he tilts your chin up, leaning forward. His lips ghost over yours before pressing against your cheek, and you moan. "Is this okay?" Nanami wonders, and you nod, feeling goosebumps run across your skin.

"Yes," you reply, and he leans forward again. This time, he kisses you gently, hands drifting from your face to your hips, where they play with the edges of your slip.

"Do you know how hard it was to sleep with you next to me?" he breathes, kissing down your neck. "Your beautiful hands fluttering from my face to my chest..." He cups your breasts over your slip and thumbs your nipples repeatedly, making you shudder.

"Nanami..." you exhale, and he removes one of the spaghetti straps of your slip slowly. "Sir, I--" He stops, replacing your strap quickly.

"I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to do this," The blonde man shakes his head, closing his eyes. Your breath hitches, but he doesn't move away from you, still. "I shouldn't--"

"Please," you interrupt him, grabbing his wrist. "Please." At your appeals, his lips crash into yours again and you tangle your fingers into his hair.

"Tell me when you want to stop," he urges you, hands running up your slip and gripping your bare thighs. But you allow him to lay you across the bed, tongues tangling as he undresses you with care.

"I need you," you breathe, and Nanami hums in response.

"We'll be late to the conference," he notes, but you shake your head. "We might not even make it the first day." But he makes no move to stop, again, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. "You alright with that?" The only thing you can do is moan as your body writhes underneath his grip, his hands orchestrating the symphonic melodies coming from your throat.

Nanami blinks slowly, leaning down to capture one of the buds between his lips. He sucks and pulls with precision, and your mind goes blank, not even registering that the color of the ceiling. All you know are the sensations you're feeling right now.

"How do you feel?" Nanami wonders, a hand sliding down to your core. As his fingers slide between your folds, you whisper,

"It feels good." He presses a finger into you before adding another, hovering above you as he strokes your g-spot.

"You're so beautiful," Nanami moans, eyes roaming over your exposed body as he drives you to madness, adding his thumb on your clit. You want to let go, you want to cum, but the fear of your boss seeing you in this way is just-- "It's okay," Nanami whispers, pressing his lips to your ear. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Oh my god," you shudder, his fingers being coated with your slick and cum liberally. Nanami croons at the way your hips jerk into his palm while you squirt all over his hand. You pant heavily once it's over, and he removes his shirt, revealing a body you've only dreamed about. His muscles are just as defined as you thought, and as he removes his pants dutifully, you watch his thick cock spring free.

"Can I?" he wonders, pumping his cock with his slick covered hand. You spread your legs a little more, inviting him to fuck you just like you've wanted for so long.

All those days he walked by your desk with his sleeves pushed up around his arms... all those times he stopped to speak with you about your day... and all those times you watched him give a presentation, imaging his lips rolling across your skin during the meetings... You would faint if you knew just how close you could get to him in one morning.

As Nanami sinks into you, you exhale deeply, and he grips your leg, leaning down and pressing himself onto you carefully. Your arm winds around his back and he stares at you as he pumps into you, his warm breath caressing your face. "Is that good?"

"So good," you whine, curling your nails into his skin. "Nanami, I--"

"Kento," the man whispers against your skin. "Please, call me Kento."

"Kento," you instantly moan, and he presses a kiss to your throat, picking up his speed. His free hand snakes behind your back, lifting you up a little as he fucks you. His breathing becomes ragged as his cock strokes your insides, pulling sounds out of you that you never considered being in your lexicon.

The smacking sounds and wetness between your thighs are enough to bring you to the edge, but Nanami slows his strokes, making them long and deep. Your orgasm abates, but you don't mind. Being beholden to Nanami is heaven.

"I'm going to make you feel some things," he warns, and you open your mouth to reply, but he continues. "You might not like being edged, but I want you to feel this next orgasm in your soul." Edged? He picks up his speed once more, knocking the thought right out of your head as you're jostled back and forth on the sheets. You can't really think rationally, anyways. Why bother?

"Mmmm," you grunt, face scrunching together as you feel another orgasm building again. And you think maybe he'll let you cum, but he slows down again, sweat dripping from his face onto your chest. "Kento, I can't take it!" you pant, but your boss nods.

"Just one more, y/n." You oblige, toes curling painfully as he quickens his thrusts and pulls you up and leans back, pumping into you from below. The sensation is remarkably different, you note, and his dick curves into you perfectly as he continues thrusting. You gasp, fingers curling into his shoulders as you feel the same orgasm building. "Ken--"

He slows down again, and you cry out, thighs quivering with the need for release. "Hold on to me," Nanami breathes, smoothing his hands down your arms and taking your fingers in his. "I'm going to let you cum this time." You tuck your face in between the crook of his neck and shoulder, moaning obscenely as he fucks you back to the brink of insanity. But this time, when your thighs clench and your hips stiffen, he keeps going, squeezing your hands carefully.

"Kento, oh my fucking god," you shout, losing yourself in the intensity of the orgasm. You might have blacked out if it wasn't for Nanami holding you against him and his hips stuttering violently as he came inside of you.

"That's it," your boss moans loudly. "That's my girl..." You're so overwhelmed that you don't register where he stops and where you begin. Everything is hazy, and you wonder if this is what it's like to be fuck drunk. You feel something being pulled over you and the way Kento holds you close, whispering sweet nothings to you as you try to keep awake, but your whole body surrenders to the finality of the moment, to the peace, and you fall asleep in his arms.

#Nanami kento #jjk smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen

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